TV Dinners from Hell Page 9

  “Are you ready, Amanda?” Blakeslee asked, all formality set aside.

  “Yeah.” Amanda forced a smile. She was having more trouble with the recent deaths onboard than her fellow crewmembers, especially in regards to Jacob Neetles. Unbeknownst to the rest of the crew, they had been seeing each other since well before the start of the mission. The sounds of momentary surprise, then an intense whooshing, sucking noise—her boyfriend’s last living moments—echoed in her head almost constantly.

  The trio of researchers watched as Adam drew nearer in the clunky surface cruiser. By the time he had parked it, just beyond the hatchway, they had already donned their helmets and pressurized their suits.

  Blakeslee opened the airlock, allowing Adam to enter the crowded space.

  “Commander.” Adam snapped a sharp salute before shaking the man’s presented hand.

  “Lieutenant,” Blakeslee returned. “My crew and I thank you for your assistance.”

  “Happy to be of service. Now, who’s first in line for a ride?”

  Blakeslee and Hahn both gestured towards Amanda, who stood there awkwardly and approached Adam.

  “I brought some water and V-bars, in case you needed some.” Adam held the pack out to Blakeslee before turning towards the open airlock and the cruiser beyond. Amanda followed hesitantly, glancing back at the Nye as she went. Again, she thought she saw the faintest flicker of movement off in the distance.

  Adam got behind the wheel after helping his passenger into her seat. He secured the airlocks and waited for the telltale hiss before removing his helmet. Amanda followed suit.

  Amanda looked nervous. “Is there…anything living here?”

  “Here, like on the Republica?” Adam cocked a disbelieving eyebrow.

  “Yeah, I thought I saw something.”

  “No, nothing lives here. Nothing could. There’s no atmosphere. Just artificial gravity. What did you see?” Adam spoke between turns of the wheel as he navigated the obstacle course of trash on his way back to his living quarters.

  “I don’t know. I’m probably just tired.” Amanda smiled wanly and shook her head, staring out the window at the odd, dismal landscape.

  Even though the Nye had managed to land less than two miles from Adam’s home away from home on the Republica, it took them nearly an hour to make the journey in the cruiser. The terrain was rough, not that the cruiser would’ve gone much faster under ideal conditions. It wasn’t built as a racecar, after all.

  “Helmets on!” Adam grinned as they neared the airlock door. “I’m going to let you out here. Push the big red button to open the airlock and the green one inside the door to close it. Go straight back from there and you’ll find my living area. It ain’t much, but you’re welcome to it. Shower’s on the left.”

  Amanda tried to look grateful, but she didn’t quite manage it. Adam shrugged, resealing the airlock after she left and turning the cruiser around to pick up another crewmember.

  * * *

  As dirty and gross as Amanda felt, she was extremely anxious for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She tried chalking it up to survivors’ guilt or the trauma of losing her boyfriend only days prior, but that wasn’t it. Rather than going to clean herself off, Amanda closed the airlock, removed her helmet, and stood watching through the tiny porthole windows as the cruiser departed. She’d wait until Adam returned with Commander Blakeslee and Corporal Hahn, then she’d feel better. They would radio down to Earth and arrange for a shuttle transport home, where she could mourn Jacob properly.

  * * *

  Adam sighed as he bounced along the uneven terrain. How had he wound up here? Ferrying crewmen from a spaceship accident to his tiny living area on a garbage barge orbiting the Earth? Oh, yeah, being a mouthy jerk. Right. He hoped Blakeslee would be able to pull some strings and get him an early reassignment, at least. His thoughts drifted back to Marcy and how she’d react if he were to show up unexpectedly with flowers months ahead of schedule.

  His daydreaming was interrupted by the shrill warbling of an alarm. “Shit!” Adam swore, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. A tiny light shaped like a steering wheel began blinking furiously on the dashboard. Fuck.

  Would it be possible to somehow jam both remaining crewmen into the vehicle and limp it back in one shot? Would the cruiser even make it? This was definitely more trouble than he needed, and he couldn’t figure out how to disable the alarm.

  * * *

  “Couldn’t we just hike it?” Hahn asked, looking up at his commanding officer for approval.

  “You could…but there’s no telling what’s out there. It’s toxic waste, at best. It might eat through your suit if you suffer so much as a scratch that compromises its integrity…and, well…” Adam let that thought hang in the air. “Besides, two miles might not seem like much, but out there? Without atmosphere, climbing over mountains of trash? It might as well be the other side of the world.”

  “All right.” Blakeslee said, holding up a hand to silence Hahn’s protests. “You’ve made your point, Lieutenant. What do you suggest?”

  “There’s a bank of equipment on the back of the cruiser. Monitoring stuff, I think. We can pull most of it off and give someone a place to stand on the back of the vehicle.”

  “Exposed, you mean?” Hahn asked. “In the open, with no atmosphere?”

  Adam scowled. “Weren’t you just asking about hiking the whole way? Do you have your own atmosphere in your pocket, or did I miss something?” Hahn took a step forward, readying for a fight, but Blakeslee interjected.

  “He’s right, Hahn. Let’s not argue. I’ll ride on the back of the vehicle.” Hahn’s face twisted into a frown before relaxing into resignation. The three of them exited the airlock and began removing instrumentation and large sensor arrays from the back of the cruiser.

  When they had completed their jury rigging, Hahn climbed into the passenger seat before making sure that Blakeslee had been situated. Adam checked to make sure that the Commander was as secure as he was going to get before giving him a thumbs-up sign. Blakeslee returned it, and then they were heading back to Adam’s living space as quickly as the cruiser would carry them, alarms still blaring.

  * * *

  Amanda knew something was wrong. She could see the sun glinting off the Nye, but couldn’t make out much detail. Still, she knew something was wrong. She was pacing back and forth in the airlock, wrapping her arms around herself to try and force herself calm. She wasn’t looking out the window when the creature skittered into view, or when several of its companions followed. They were hidden behind a mountain of sludge by the time she glanced back outside.

  * * *

  “Can’t you do something about that noise?” Hahn shouted as Adam navigated the trash mounds as carefully as he could, mindful of their additional passenger.

  “I’d rather not risk messing with it. You’re welcome to switch places with Blakeslee, if you want.” Hahn’s scowl reflected back at Adam from the passenger side window. Adam shrugged and resumed focus on the path ahead.

  The cruiser was on a relatively even path when Blakeslee began pounding on the roof. Adam parked and pulled on his helmet, waiting for Hahn to put his on before he could release the airlock. Blakeslee’s pounding grew more furious as the seconds passed.

  Even though there was artificial gravity, the lack of atmosphere made it impossible for the men to hear each other while they investigated. When Adam and Hahn got outside, Blakeslee was gesturing wildly.

  “I saw something!” he mouthed, eyes as wide as saucers. Adam and Hahn got the message, looking around for whatever the Commander had seen, but they found nothing.

  “We should go!” Adam said, gesturing towards his quarters. Blakeslee, eyes still wide, heart racing, nodded and climbed reluctantly back onto the step they’d cleared on the back of the vehicle. He knew what he had seen, and it didn’t belong here. It didn’t belong anywhere.

  Blakeslee clutched th
e roof of the vehicle as Adam started it back up. They were almost halfway there, and he was sure they could make it. Whatever he had seen—that abomination—surely couldn’t penetrate the airlock. Once they got inside, they’d be fine. They’d have showers and call back to Base. Soon, they’d be heading home.

  They were nearing Adam’s living quarters when he saw them. More of them. Those things! They were everywhere. Long, red bodies like lobsters, but larger. Darker. More menacing. Huge claws and curved tails like a scorpion’s, tipped with cruel-looking barbs. Half a dozen of them swarmed from behind the comm satellite.

  “What the fuck?” Adam cried, trying to turn the cruiser sharply to avoid running into the things that had appeared in front of them.

  The wide rubber tires were the only thing that stopped the cruiser from tipping. It went up on two wheels as it struggled to obey the driver, bouncing back on four and knocking Blakeslee from the back.

  Amanda was at the porthole window instantly, banging her fists futilely on its triple-thick glass. She watched helplessly as those things, those awful red things, rushed towards her Commander, her friend.

  Blakeslee got to his feet as Adam and Hahn jumped out of the cruiser, still struggling with their helmets. They turned to go back for the Commander and were mere steps from him, but one of those things beat them to the punch.

  A creature the size of a dog with pincers like sharpened tongs skittered around a rusted chunk of what used to be a Coastguard vessel and plunged the tip of its scorpion tale into Blakeslee’s leg. Before Adam or Hahn could react, the tiny tear made by the stinger widened as the air inside escaped in a rush. Commander Blakeslee fell to the mucky ground, looking up with an expression of shock and agony on his face. His cheeks were swelling, eyes bulging before they popped like overripe tomatoes, splattering the inside of his helmet with blood and gore.

  Amanda shrieked as Blakeslee’s body continued to swell and expand, bloody oozing flesh now running from the hole torn in his suit like lava from a child’s volcano science experiment. More of those things rushed to their comrade’s kill, scurrying over trash like enormous, mutant roaches. Hahn took off running for the airlock, not waiting for Adam, who was trying to drag the Commander’s still thrashing body away from the things that picked and jabbed at him with black-tipped claws, their hungry mandibles churning faster and faster as they pursued their prey.

  “Amanda!” Hahn screamed into the void between them, pounding on the outside of the airlock door.”Let me in! Oh, God, let me in now!”

  But Amanda was frozen in shock and fear. She watching in helpless horror as more and more of those evil crustaceans emerged from the refuse all around, converging on Adam and Blakeslee. She looked into Hahn’s eyes as one of those things jabbed him with a poisonous stinger, her mouth hanging agape as his eyes popped just as Blakeslee’s had.

  Hahn screamed into the void where no one could hear him, not even the things that began devouring him before he was dead.

  * * *

  ODESSA

  Davik’s hard-soled shoes slapped against the cobblestones. Perhaps it was his aggressive stance that gave him an aura of menace, or the scars that crisscrossed his rugged face. The beggars who would ordinarily have had their hands outstretched to passersby cringed away and receded into the shadows like vermin. Davik scowled in disgust.

  He passed an alley from which several prostitutes displayed their wares. Hungry-looking faces with eyes like chips of coal and rouged mouths gaping as he examined them. Davik wondered how any of the women survived the winter, exposed as they were, but dismissed his curiosity with a toss of his head. He felt pity for them, but also disgust and loathing.

  He grabbed a frail-looking waif with a wan complexion. Turning her arm over with little regard for her discomfort, Davik inspected her for marks. Not liking what he saw, he roughly shoved her away.

  “Clean girls!” he spat, scowling. “Which of you has not been kissed by the needle?” He examined each one, waiting for an answer. Many of the girls cowered, or pressed themselves into the shadows. Three of them fought to move behind each other and nearly fell over one another, drawing a disdainful look from their potential client.

  One girl stepped forward, raising her arms so the sleeves of her loose coat slid back, exposing smooth flesh that bore no track marks. Her golden hair fell over one sapphire-colored eye. She was far from healthy, but looked livelier than the rest. Davik jerked her into the roadway, looking her over. “Show me your hands!” he commanded, examining the skin between her fingers, as addicts tended to inject themselves there to hide the scars.

  Satisfied, he nodded. “How much?”

  She held up two fingers.

  Davik reached into his jacket and pulled out a pair of large coins, tossing them at the girl's feet. He barely gave her a chance to pick them up before he yanked her away roughly, dragging her into the wintry night.

  A frigid wind blew through the network of alleys and streets that Davik steered them through. The whore pulled her moth-eaten coat more tightly about her.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, teeth chattering. Davik refused to acknowledge her; he merely continued on.

  The watery slush that coated the ground was beginning to freeze. It made the surfaces of the streets and alleys slick and treacherous. Davik, with his heavy shoes, suffered no ill effects due to the lack of traction. The harlot was not so lucky. Her flimsy shoes didn't fare well. Twice she slipped and she would have fallen, were it not for Davik's grip on her arm like an iron band, yanking her along behind him like a dog. The poor girl was nearly frozen and out of breath, cheeks flushed and nose raw by the time they reached their destination—a stone building with brightly lit windows huddled between several dark and foreboding structures. Chatter echoed in the alley, muffled by a wooden door.

  Davik shoved his captive into a corner, roughly pinning her against the icy stone. She was too frightened to move, too startled to scream. He raised his hand, a grin on his face and a bulge growing in his trousers, as he backhanded the girl with enough force to tear her from consciousness. An angry red welt was already springing into coloration on her cheek as he tied her up, binding her wrists with cheap rope taken from his pocket before shoving rags into her mouth.

  She slid limply down the cold stone, collapsing in a graceless heap on the frozen ground, where Davik proceeded to bind her ankles. He struck her once more for good measure before throwing his coat over her. His eyes lingered on her pale fingertips just barely visible beneath the edge of the heavy garment.

  Davik trudged toward the wooden door that opened on the alley. His footsteps crunched on the hard-packed snow. He stretched his fingers, splaying them before him, and grasped his wrist. He hadn’t realized how hard he’d been clutching the girl’s arm, anticipation and excitement getting the better of him. He worked the soreness and stiffness from his joints, which popped and cracked as he flexed his hand.

  The door loomed, the light from inside filtering through the narrow gaps between the wooden slats. Davik pulled it open and stepped inside, brushing the snow from his shoulders. At his entrance, the boisterous conversations and rowdy arguments ceased. All eyes were on the newcomer as he walked slowly to a table at the back of the bar. His footsteps sounded like thunder in the silent room.

  Onya did not bother lifting her eyes at Davik’s approach. In front of her sat half a dozen intricately carved nubs of bone. She stared at them as if entranced. In one hand, she held a smooth, cylindrical container of deep gray marble. The fingers of her other hand played delicately over the rim as she focused on the ivory-colored fragments before her. Her eyebrows slid upward on her forehead as she leaned in closer to examine the mystical relics. Her expression was one of disbelief, doubt, and possibly even fear.

  Davik paused for a moment, eying the ivory-colored pieces. “Onya,” he said, his voice resounding in the silent barroom. Onya looked up, her glacial blue eyes concealed beneath sleepy-looking lids and pencil-thin eyeb
rows. Her age was indeterminate. She could have been thirty or sixty. Her pale skin was stretched tight over her gaunt face. She was all angles: sharp cheekbones, thin nose, pointed jaw, and pronounced clavicles. Her bony fingers nimbly gathered up the bones and deposited them back in the marble vessel. Onya gestured at the chair across from her, pulling a fur stole around her shoulders in the same movement.

  “Davik, my darling!” Her smile was like a razor edged with poison. “Please! Sit.”

  Davik obliged her, resting his heavy bulk on the chair's weak wooden frame with all the grace of an untrained elephant. The chair groaned in protest but managed to bear his weight.

  The glow of the candles around them shone on Onya's pale hair, which was pulled into a severe bun at the back of her head, heightening the appearance of her flesh being stretched over her skull like a taut canvas. She wore a pale blue dress of thin fabric, but she didn't seem to mind or even notice the cold. She lifted a bare, skeletal arm and flexed her fingers like a cat displaying her claws.

  “What is it you see in those little bones that has you so worried, moim drukk?” he asked.

  Onya turned her face away, casting her gaze downward. “It is nothing.” She said, a bit too quickly to be truthful. She lowered the cup into her lap as if hiding it would erase it from his memory. The bones clattered gently within their stone-walled tomb.

  “What is it you seek?” she asked.

  Davik's expression shifted so subtly that most would not have seen it, but Onya did. For the second time that evening, her eyebrows leapt up. “You wish to raise Kassogtha,” she breathed, drawing her back straight against her chair and assuming her full height.

  Davik watched her for a moment, attempting to gauge her reaction. Then he nodded once, his eyes never leaving Onya's deceptively frail face.

  “Do you know what this entails?” Her eyes narrowed to piercing blue slits.

  Davik nodded once more. “I have the girl ready and waiting outside.”

  Onya's mouth drew in on itself, becoming a tiny pucker below her sharply angled nose.