Authors: S. A. Lusher
Greg considered this for a long moment. “No...I guess not, but what if we
do
survive and everything goes south afterward? What if I suck as a boyfriend? What if-”
“
What if? What if?” Cage's face hardened. “You aren't asking yourself any questions that every other man and woman hasn't asked. There are no guarantees in this life, Bishop. Nothing but death and misery.”
Greg was silent after that, considering Cage's words.
“I guess you're right, but I'm not making a move first. I don't want to make her uncomfortable. And I'm still not entirely convinced that you're right about her flirting with me. Who the hell wants a guy with a fucked up brain?” He sounded more than a little bitter to himself.
He thought Cage would have something more to say on this, a tough-love sentiment of 'stop feeling sorry for yourself'. He merely shrugged and returned his cold gaze to the miles of wasteland emptiness that surrounded them.
Greg finished off his cigarette, flicked it off the edge and stood. He took a good, long look around them, hunting for any sign of movement.
They were still alone here.
He reactivated his radio, bid Cage farewell, and then headed back down the elevator to the ground floor, thinking of Kyra. If he was honest with himself, he was attracted to her. Beyond just being beautiful, she seemed smart and competent, and he liked to think those were features he would have found desirable before.
When he came to the comms room, he found Kyra packing away her tools. “Done?”
“Yep. As done as I'm going to be. All we need now is that damned part.”
“
I really don't want to go down into the basement, but, if we have to...” Greg shifted uncomfortably.
“
What the hell is down there, anyway?”
To that, nobody had an answer. Kyra finished packing and stood, popping her neck.
“I was thinking about some places we should hit up tomorrow. My own outpost and the one Cage came from.”
A dozen points against visiting those outposts took up residence in Greg's mind, but he just nodded and thought of Kyra's statement from before. 'Who dares, wins.' If they wanted out of this situation, there were times where they would have to dare.
Greg yawned.
“
Yeah, I think it's about time for bed. We should get an early start.” Kyra headed for the door and Greg followed.
Chapter 10
Dawn.
Breakfast.
Already, Greg could see that neither of his companions relished going back to their respective outposts, though Kyra appeared more apprehensive about it than Cage. Perhaps he was just better at hiding his feelings.
For once, Greg found a small blessing in his lost memories. He couldn’t recall any great tragedies in his life. No lost love. No immense suffering or pain. That made him think about a question he hadn't considered until just then.
Why wasn't he more freaked out by all this?
Zombies were scary.
Smart
zombies were downright terrifying. When he woke up in a dead ship full of deader bodies, why hadn't he panicked more? When he encountered his first undead horror, why hadn't he simply frozen, unable to comprehend what he was seeing? Just a few answers came to mind, but only one seemed to stick.
Greg now felt certain that he was a soldier. There was enough evidence to support this, but perhaps the biggest clue was that he hadn't lost his cool in a ridiculous situation.
Was
that an instinct? It must be, he realized. So he must be more than just a soldier. He must have a lot of experience in the field.
Breakfast came to an end. Greg remained brooding in silence as they disposed of their garbage. They'd already checked the base over and found no unwanted visitors before breakfast. The three of them loaded up into a pair of jeeps and pulled out of the garage, then took off into the infinite gray wastelands.
“What's on your mind? You look grim.” Kyra glanced at him from her place behind the wheel. She’d felt it was her turn to drive.
Greg hardly registered the comment. After a few seconds, he finally caught it and glanced over. “Just...thinking.”
“Well, no shit. Thinking about
what
?”
“
Myself. My past. Will I ever get my memories back? I dunno. Cage said I shouldn't worry so much. I'm really tempted to believe his idea that my old personality won't suddenly reassert itself and I'll lose...whatever I am now. I like who I am now.”
“
Oh yeah? Why's that?”
“
Well...I dunno. I'm not lazy. I don't panic. I don't really get angry. I feel...heh, it sounds crazy, but I feel competent.”
“
You
are
competent. Even without your memories.”
Greg hesitated, staring at the floor for a moment. Then he glanced back over at her. “You really think so?”
“I know so. I personally think that maybe you should try not to dwell on it so much. I understand that would be really hard. I can't imagine how much of a mind-fuck you must be going through right now...but I see a lot of potential in you. Everything I've seen so far indicates that you're strong, smart and capable.”
“
Thanks.” It was all Greg could think to say in reply. Kyra didn't say anything in response, but he did see a small smile on her lips. She appeared focused on driving. He considered Cage's words from the night before.
Should
he make a move? Things were tense enough, how much worse would it be if he did and she rejected him? Why fuck up what was shaping up to be (from his perspective, anyway) a nice friendship?
What if she was just waiting for him to say something? It didn't seem likely, but there was one thing that Greg seemed to recall. It was that men pretty much had no idea when it came to how women felt about them.
He sighed and opted to just stare out at the wastelands and watch the rain streak on the windows for now.
* * * * *
They went to Kyra's outpost first.
It was double the size of the camp they currently occupied, though all of it was centralized in one structure. They parked the jeeps at the edge of the compound and waited for several moments, staring at the inert building.
Kyra remained in her seat, motionless, after killing the engine. Greg didn't say anything, neither did Cage. Finally, she opened the door and stepped out in one smooth motion, as though no time had passed at all.
Greg got out with her, spying Cage next to them opening his own door. Greg studied the outpost. The walls were a bland metal, painted over in some gray, weather-resistant paint. For the most part it was a single-story sprawl, broken occasionally by a few second-story rooms that were trimmed with communications and radar gear.
“Home,” Kyra murmured.
Greg almost asked if she wanted to wait outside, but knew that it would be an insulting question. She strode off toward a side entrance with a stuck-open door. Greg checked out his shotgun and pistol, making sure one more time that they were ready to go, and followed her. He didn't need a misfire or anything.
Cage brought up the rear. They entered the outpost. The ugly reek of death, blood, and decay invaded Greg's nostrils. In the distance he heard uglier sounds…chewing. He let his shotgun hang over his shoulder and pulled out his pistol.
Kyra led the way, her own pistol pointed low, but ready to snap up at a second's notice. They came into a dark corridor bathed in filtered gray sunlight. A large stain smeared the wall ahead of them.
It was black, like oil: zombie blood.
“
God, why do they bleed black?” Greg whispered.
The corresponding corpse lay slumped on the tiled floor, half its skull torn away. Kyra hesitated and knelt by the corpse. She studied the ruined face for a moment, then stood back up, something like relief painted across her strained, pale features. She led them down the hall, eventually coming to a central antechamber with several corridors branching off it.
“We can get to everywhere in the outpost from here,” Kyra stated, her voice terse. “Cage, can you search the security wing and armory? They're down that corridor.”
“
Affirmative.” Cage disappeared down the corridor.
“
All right...come on, Greg. We need to head up for the comms array, and...there are a few stops I need to make.”
Greg nodded and followed her down another corridor. They came closer to the hungry chewing sounds, which were now accompanied by a series of brittle snaps. Greg’s stomach twitched. He held his pistol at the ready.
They passed two closed doors, and then paused by one that was incapable of closing. A pair of legs, bloody and ripped to shreds, blocked it. Something moved just inside the room. The chewing sound was quite clear now.
Kyra moved forward, pistol drawn, and fired once. There was a thud and the legs jerked. Greg joined her and glanced in. He felt his stomach twitch again, but that was it. The torso was missing the majority of its flesh.
Kyra just stared. “Oh, God,” she moaned and turned away.
“
Did you know him?”
“
I think the guy on the floor was Oliver...Christ, that kid. He was the assistant cook. Did nothing but goof off all day...but he made a great steak. He was always good for a joint...”
“
What about the zombie?” Greg reached a hand toward her shoulder, but hesitated.
“
That's John. He was...fuck...he was a security officer. I didn't really know him. He creeped me out. Always staring at my tits.”
She took a deep breath and moved on. Greg followed. They reached a stairwell at the end of the corridor and ascended silently, cautiously. No
zombies waited for them.
“
So what was this place?” Greg asked.
“
Security, mostly. And radar.”
“
Two security outposts in the same region?”
“
Yeah. Though technically my outpost is for this region and Cage's sits twenty miles north of here, at the edge where our two regions meet. His outpost is pretty isolated. Brass is known for being paranoid and besides,” she shrugged, “it creates jobs, doesn't it?”
Greg wasn't sure how to respond to that.
They checked in with Cage, learned he had put down three zombies, and began their search. It seemed that a vicious firefight had gone on here. Two of the windows were broken out and many of the screens were cracked or shattered into oblivion. Those that remained active were awash with static. Greg walked to the windows while Kyra searched.
He didn't have much hope for this outpost, or for Cage's. It seemed to him that either blind bad luck or a group of assholes were conspiring to fuck them over. One thing that kept him from really worrying was the knowledge that they could just drive out of here...but it would be
really
nice to have an idea of what was going on across the rest of Dis.
“
Ah hell,” Kyra muttered. She sounded less pissed and more defeated.
“
The part we want is ruined, right?” He didn’t bother to turn from the windows.
“
Yeah. That.”
“
Well...I guess we should wrap this up.”
“
Yeah. We should. I need to check out one more place, though. There's...something I meant to grab before I left, but never got the chance.”
Greg followed her back downstairs and into the dormitories wing. The place was an absolute mess. They put down another two zombies still milling about in one of the dorms. Kyra stopped by a closed door, her finger hovering over the open button. Finally, after a lingering silence, she pressed the button.
The door slid open. Nothing terrible waited within. She slipped in while Greg waited silently in the hall.
“
You can come in,” she said after a few seconds. “I've got no real secrets left.”
Greg stepped into the room and looked around. It was a smaller version of the bedroom they currently occupied back at the communications relay. Just one bed, one dresser, one desk. A door that led to a squalid bathroom in the back. A window on which rain beaded and cold gray sunlight spilled in through.
“This was my home for two months.” Kyra stood unmoving in the center of the room.
“
Did you hate it here?” Greg asked because he felt he should say something. Although, that didn't seem to be quite the right thing to say.
“
No...I didn't hate it. I think...it felt more like a dream, most of the time. Maybe that's too vague. I guess when I got sent out here, it didn't really feel real. Or, at best, it felt like some kind of temporary transition. Like, I'd only be here a few days and then I'd get rotated to a
real
job. And it just kept feeling like that. Like I didn't have to settle down and get to know anybody, because I'd probably be leaving tomorrow.
“
I knew it was ridiculous, but...it's just how I felt. It seemed easy to live like that. So I didn't really make many friends, I didn't really let anyone get close. I dunno. Is this weird?” She finally looked at him.
“
No, not really. I'd like to comfort you with a tale of my own experience at an isolated outpost, if I indeed was stationed at one, but...” Greg shrugged.
Kyra nodded and then walked over to her desk. She opened the bottom drawer and fished out an infopad. She stared at it for a long moment, and then finally turned back.
“Okay, this is all I needed. Cage, what's it like on your end?” They stepped back out into the corridor.
“
Not good. The armory is cleaned out. Same for the security center. I've managed to secure a very meager inventory for our arsenal.”
“
I figured as much...shit. All right, let's hit up the infirmary and the mess hall, then we'll check out your base.”
“
Understood.”
“
What’s that infopad?” Greg asked as they made their way through the base.
“
My diary.”
* * * * *
They cleaned out what little supplies were left from the ruins of Kyra's outpost. There were only a handful more undead lingering around, all of which were put down. Once everything was loaded, they continued their journey.
Greg had fallen into another session of deep brooding when the jeep abruptly came to a halt. Kyra made a surprised sound. “Holy shit.”
He glanced up and echoed her sentiment. Cage's outpost was now nothing more than a crater in the ground.
“
I suspected this.”
Cage’s cool voice echoed over their radios.
“
What? How?” Greg asked.
“
I heard a distant explosion two nights ago, while I was standing watch. It was a simple process of elimination. The reactor must have malfunctioned or been damaged in the attack. With no one to tend to it, it blew.”
“
Great,” Kyra muttered. “That just leaves the mining installation and...”
“
The basement,” Greg finished.
They sat there in their jeeps for several minutes before finally turning around and heading home for the night.