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
“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
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