Kill Them Dead (Zombie Apocalypse Fiction) - Scene 3

If you missed Scene 1 and 2 click below
Scene 1 - https://steemit.com/fiction/@pwpretorius/kill-them-dead-scene-1-zombie-apocalypse-fiction

Scene 2 - https://steemit.com/fiction/@pwpretorius/kill-them-dead-zombie-apocalypse-fiction-scene-2

Jason Clark

The moment they met seven months ago, Jason Clark knew he and David Taylor had only one thing in common: both were driven by ambition. David’s ambition was simple: the care and prosperity of his family.
Neither was something Jason had, nor anything that he particularly desired. Since childhood, he learned to depend only on himself and adding strangers or blood to the mix always seemed silly and burdensome—the very thing a man like David Taylor would do.
Ironically, Jason had many opportunities to settle down, and though his sexual conquests were something to brag about, he loved none of the beauties that shared his bed.
For Jason, love was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow: unreachable and totally make-believe, the chasing of fairytales that collided head-on with his own ambition: a duty to something much bigger than himself.
The continuous, repeated flicker of red emergency lights brought him back to reality. Jason forced himself to focus on the situation at hand, and even though he was no stranger to unusual situations, the sense that something significant was up—or went down—sprung from deep inside. He could not shake the feeling. For him and the rest of the people who called the cold space station home, Orion was one of the most secure facilities ever developed and operated within a framework of unbendable rules and strict protocol. The mere fact that emergency lights led their way, their unauthorized docking and what seemed to be a deserted space station were before this moment unthinkable. Even for him.
“So who was the idiot that turned down the heat?” one of Jason’s three companions, Charlie Lecky asked. The medium-height man looked much older than his age of twenty, with deep wrinkles planted on a round, dark-skinned face, some concealed with a full, untrimmed beard. “Yo, boss, what ya think is up, man?” he continued before humming a low pitched version of Amazing Grace.
Irritated by the level of unnecessary noise, Jason’s mind began to subconsciously count a feat that took months to program, and right on the count of three, he heard the predictable, “Yeah what’s up, boss-man?” from Charlie’s best friend and fellow idiot, Nicolas Saint Clause. In Jason’s opinion his name meant nothing, but for the rest of the world it was a cruel joke from deranged parents. Add to it a pear-shaped, overweight body and ash-blonde hair, and you cannot help but have a chuckle at the twenty-two-year-old’s predicament. It came as no surprise that he held the nickname Santa, and the two friends were on board the Orion for two reasons: adventure and a good paycheck. Not many vocations allowed twenty-something men without any formal tertiary training the opportunity to visit outer space, let alone mine asteroids. In fact, none did, and the only reason that they were part of the team was because they were family of people with loads of financial clout.
“Nothing, be quiet and keep your eyes open,” Jason answered and continued to scan the corridor for any sign of activity. Besides the emergency lights, everything else was bathed in darkness and formed strange silhouettes in a disco of red and black. But it was the silence, apart from the men’s babbling, that struck him the most. It was impossible to play hide and seek with more than a thousand people without hearing a sneeze from some snot-nosed kid, not to mention inevitable conversations during an emergency drill.
Bam!
Everyone flinched when the noise that came from behind echoed down the metallic hall. Jason instinctively hunched down and reached for his ankle, but in the motion he saw the origin of the unexpected sound.
“Come on, dude!” Santa shouted and turned around in anger: “Hold on to that thing, will ya!”
“Yeah, dude! Not cool!” added Charlie. “Again, boss, why are we babysitting the Chink?”
Noah Lee was already on all fours, fumbling to regain the fallen battery pack, only to drop it a second time. Thankfully the sound traveled with fewer decibels than before, but it did not dampen the anger of the two friends.
“Do you want me to punch your lights out?” Santa said and raised his fists into a boxing position. “Really, just say the word...Charlie, hold me back.”
“Sorry,” Noah said and regained his composure. The root of the frustration was deeper than a fallen battery pack, and the miners had to endure the short, thin Chinese-American, his white light, lenses and crooked smile for long enough. Most of the base felt it was time for the documentary crew to take a bird back home.
Although Jason’s opinions differed from the rest most of the time, on that one matter they agreed. Why on earth they were stuck with him was beyond reason, but David Taylor decided that he needed more hands for the control room scouting mission, that he needed Noah Lee. If it was up to him, there would be no one with him. He simply worked better alone.
Jason cursed at the thought of David, shook his head back to reality and continued towards the elevator.
“Where does the elevator lead to?” Noah asked in an obvious attempt to force the battery incident out of his companions’ minds.
“Well, Bruce…” Santa said with a smirk.
“My name is Noah.”
“And is your surname by any chance Lee?”
“Yes.”
Santa rolled his eyes and gave a dramatic sigh. “Well then, like I said, Bruce, the elevator goes up and down…”
“Just like your girlfriend,” Charlie interrupted and chuckled at his own joke.
“Hey, watch it, dude…” Santa said.
“I am just saying, bro, with an ass like that...hhhmmmm…”
Through it all Jason barley managed to control the urge to slap both men. About two hundred feet just left of the final bend, he saw the shadow from the frame of the elevator. In that area the emergency light was dead and left a circle of darkness.
“Let’s go,” he said and picked up the pace. Something was seriously wrong, and he felt it chewing away at his stomach. Every sense was on the highest alert, and every visual was processed deep into his subconscious. He wanted to shake the feeling and arm himself with something powerful, and for that they needed to get to the control room, preferably sooner rather than later.
They made swift progress towards the elevator, and the light from their shoulder torches drove back most of the darkness around the elevator. Pitch-black still engulfed most of the area, but even from a distance it was clear that the elevator wouldn’t take them anywhere. Small sparks sprinkled out of open wires where the operating control panel was supposed to be. When they finally arrived, it took him one glance to determine the cause. A bullet was lodged where the up button used to be.
“What the hell happened here?” Charlie asked.
“Can’t you see it’s a bullet?” Santa said, his voice dry. “And that’s blood!” He couldn’t contain the shriek that escaped from his lips.
“Whoa! No, no, no!” Charlie said, almost as frantic as Santa. “I did not sign up for this!”
Jason did not waste time to explain. The answer was obvious for all to see, spattered across the broken elevator. Instead he glanced and locked the image into his mind. He memorized seven bullet holes, two separate blood spatters and one long bear-like claw scratch that stretched vertically across the entire length of the elevator door.
“Let’s move, girls,” Jason Clark said and hurried off.
“Boss, where are we going?” Santa asked.
“Taking the stairs,” he answered and opened the door to the staircase.