Night of the Living Trekkies by Kevin David Anderson, Sam Stall, Kevin David, Sam Stall Anderson Page A

someplace, figure something out. Or maybe just die on our own terms. Wouldn’t that be better than suffocating in this box?”
    Jim thought about it. The woman made sense.
    The zombie mound was almost to the top of the Plexiglas. Another minute and the first creature would thump down onto the top of the elevator.
    “Let’s go to seven,” Jim said. “I hear it’s nice.”
    “Anywhere,” Leia said as she stared down at the floor. “Anywhere but here.”
    Jim pressed the appropriate code into the control panel and left the zombies behind. Leia shuddered as they cleared the writhing mass.
    “I have a thing about enclosed spaces,” she finally said. “Especially spaces enclosed by zombies.”
    The elevator stopped at seven, dinging to announce its arrival. The doors, at Jim’s instruction, didn’t open. They soon heard pounding and moaning from the other side.
    “Sounds like a par-tay out there,” Jim said.
    “Par-tay?” Leia said, still trembling. “Who says ‘par-tay’ anymore?”
    “You’d be surprised.”
    Jim tried to get the lay of the land by looking out the blood-streaked windows. With nothing to stimulate their appetites, the zombies in the lobby settled into a round of listless pacing. And the ones in the hotel rooms—the ones staring down at the atrium—also seemed calmer. The mess on the elevator glass made it nearly impossible for Jim and Leia to be seen.
    “I think we’re okay for the moment,” Jim said. “But there’s no way we can open these doors.”
    He picked up the Glock and ejected its empty magazine. He unzipped his bag, drew out the fresh clip, and slammed it home.
    “Seventeen rounds left,” he said as he looked down at the sea of undead. “I don’t think that’s going to be enough bullets for all of them.”
    “What the hell happened to you down there?” Leia asked.
    Jim pushed himself into the corner of the elevator next to the control panel. He crossed his arms and stared off into the middle distance.
    “What happened was, I made a mistake. I put someone in a situation that they clearly couldn’t handle. And she died. She died because I was stupid.”
    “Save your existential crisis for later,” Leia said. “Right now, we have to survive. We need a Plan B.”
    “Really?” Jim said. “I didn’t realize there was a Plan A.”
    “There was,” Leia said. “You thought it up. Go down to the lobby and fetch what’s-her-name, then go upstairs and find your sister.”
    “What’s-her-name was named Janice Bohica,’” Jim said. “She liked to play golf, she was pathologically afraid of spiders, and for some reason she followed the Astros. We didn’t like each other very much. But she deserved better than this. And better from me.”
    “
No one
deserves this,” Leia said, gesturing at the elevator’s grimy windows. “But that woman is dead and nothing can undo it. Getting your drawers in a knot won’t help you or me or your sister.”
    “Rayna’s dead,” Jim said. “I left her, too, and now she’s dead. She was eaten alive in a hallway somewhere while I was nowhere in sight. That’s how it works.”
    “We don’t have time for this,” Leia said impatiently.
    Jim looked at her with true anger.
    “How’s this for a Plan B?” he said. “How about I put the barrel of this pistol in my mouth and pull the trigger? You can take the passkeys and the stuff in the bag and go your own way. Trust me, you’ll live longer.”
    Leia stalked up to Jim and looked him in the eye.
    “You have no idea how much I want to go my own way,” she said. “But I can’t do this alone. You know the layout of this dump, you know how to handle weapons, and you know how to fight. As much as I hate to say it, I
need
you.”
    “I’ll get you killed,” Jim said.
    “I’ll take the chance,” Leia replied. “Now let’s put aside your personal baggage and try to think about how Kirk would handle this.”
    “Who?” Jim said.
    “James T. Kirk, commander of the