A high-pitched ring was all Jack could hear. Then, pain walloped him like a blow. He retched, opened his eyes. His vision was so blurred all he could see were distorted colors. Slowly, they transformed into a veering landscape, teetering up, down, up again. Vaguely, he was aware of his own hand appearing before his face, covered in blood. Then a face appeared into his, frenzied. He could not tell who it was, only that it was there, then gone, and he felt himself being dragged momentarily, then stopped. The landscape teetered before him again ... up ... down ... up ... down.
Sound—as though emerging from water.
"Jaaaaaaack!"
It swooped out of a chasm—louder, louder, louder—then bang! He could not distinguish the sounds apart, except one, which kept reiterating: "Jaaaaaaack!"
The landscape teetered again, like a seesaw. He suddenly realized what he was seeing was the craggy edges of mountains, and then a bottomless chasm. He felt light-headed, like his head was filling with pressure, ready to explode—a balloon; he thought he should feel an emotion, but emotion—any emotion—was a long way off.
"Jaaaaaaack!"
Something grabbed him again; he was being dragged away. He couldn't identify what was holding onto his ankle. Now, emotion swelled inside him—it was terror, coursing through him like a current of electricity.
"Jaaaaaaack!"
The voice was different this time. He was somewhere else. Vaguely familiar. And the thing holding his ankle was a hand. He pulled his ankle free and began to worm his out of a door.
"Jack!"
He turned around to see him: Captain Bob Marley. His face swam with consternation. "You have to understand. We've been infected!" he shouted. "Right now, it's eating me inside out! But only I can stop it! Only I can stop it before it reaches Earth!"
Jack smacked a button on the wall panel, and the door closed behind him.
Now, he was back on the shuttle, poised over destruction. I'm in danger, he thought, as he felt the craft bob downward again. I have to get out! Gravel crumbled beneath its hull. He was aware of the sound of the frantic crew behind him, trying to free him. Something still had his ankle, and it was pulling him into the abyss.
This time, it was just a seat strap.
"It's gonna fall!" he heard someone scream. "Cut him free!"
"I'm trying!"
"Get out—now!"
"Not without Jack!"
He was numb. Everything went silent again.
He had been crawling away from the door—away from the mad captain. It was very important he put space between the two of them. Why?
Because he was infected, Jack thought.* * *
The next time he came to, he was away from the spacecraft and he could see the twisted doorway, and the smoke pouring out of it and sweeping outward to evaporate into the wind. Now, he became aware of that wind assailing him, whipping past his face like an ice-cold chisel, gouging out his cheeks and eyes with sand and dust. His breaths came up shallow. Oxygen, he thought. I need oxygen!
Peripherally, he was aware of a body laying on the ground amid silver-wrapped casings and packages and crates strewn about a smoking trail that led up to the precipice.
"Wh-what's happening?" he heard himself ask through gasps. His lips felt like lead, cold lead. He could see his legs dragging, leaving a trail, and he tried to move them.
"I've got him!" the person dragging him shouted ahead of them. He knew from the voice, even through the shrieking wind, that it was Reeves—Reeves who was now first-in-command. His full name was Joseph Reginald Reeves, but everyone just called him Reeves. "Don't you pass out on me, you sonuvabitch!"
He felt Reeves collapse, and Jack could see the craft balancing on the precipice between his lifeless feet.
"He needs oxygen," someone said.
"I'll give him mine."
A moment later, he felt someone hold him up.
"Here, Jack—take my helmet." A hollowing sound filled his ears, like he was being confined—suffocated; then his hearing swam back to sixty decibel-life. His breath fogged the visor. In the muted world, he heard the sound of something being fastened, then a hiss of oxygen. He took a deep breath as the O2 gushed into his helmet.
"Toldja it'd hold," Reeves said, referring to the escape capsule they'd come from, his voice muted. The comms unit was out.
"That was so dangerous!"
"I'd do it again."
"Please don't!"
"Everything we need is in there."
"Reeves," Jack mumbled, his voice smothered from beneath his glass-faced coffin. "Reeves."
"He's totally out of it," said Audrey. "He might be suffering from a severe concussion."
"Is that his blood?"
"No; it's Jeremiah's."
"Thank God. There's a place over there where the others are. I'm gonna go back—"
"Reeves—"
"What?"
"Is it dead?"
Reeves was hunkered down, gripping Jack under the armpits. For a moment, he said nothing. "He blew up the whole goddamn ship to keep us from returning to Earth with it, Audrey," he said at last. "It better be dead."
He let go of Jack. "I'm going to go back to get the rest of our supplies."
"Reeves—please don't! It's too dangerous!"
But the large shape of Reeves lumbered quickly away through the wild storm.
Then Jack heard: "Come help me with him, Hal!"
Someone else was coming through the storm.
"Hal, take him! I'm going after Reeves. He went back, the bastard. Don't leave him alone!" And then Audrey rushed off through the storm toward the craft in pursuit of Reeves.
"Jack?"
"Yes?"
"Can you stand?"
He stood; the earth seemed to oscillate on its own volition. "Where are the others?"
"There's a cave."
"Cave?"
"Jack, what happened?"
"I dunno."
"You were there."
"Where?"
"Don't you remember?"
It was all just a dream to him, but it was coming back very slowly, like clotted blood. Sirens. Red flashing lights. A panicked crew. And Captain Bob Marley on the bridge. Something had happened to him. What?
YOU ARE READING
14 Surv1v0rs
Science FictionA spaceship crashes on a deserted planet. Fourteen survivors. An alien virus that transforms humans into homicidal alien beings. As banal as that sounds, Jack isn't about to rule it out...especially after the mysterious death of the first survivo...