The DOOM Chronicles

Chapter 38: Back To Basics

When Jack snapped back into reality yet again, he immediately felt much lighter. Looking down at himself, he felt a wave of cold terror sweep over him, but it was immediately extinguished and replaced by a far more powerful burning rage.

"Oh you stupid fuck!" he screamed, staring down at his own naked body.

The armor. The guns. The ammo. Everything.

All of it was gone.

"What in the fuck is the point of being a fucking goddamned genius if you're going to be such a goddamned fucking moron!?" he shrieked in pure white-hot rage. Why hadn't that dumbass mentioned that they would lose everything in the transition?! Why hadn't he remembered to ask?! Jack looked around, clenching and opening his fists rapidly, looking for something to take his frustrations out on. The idiot had even suggested they gather whatever resources they could before going through the gate! Why? WHY?!

He'd appeared in a simple square room of green marble and pockmarked gray stone, nothing in it but a wooden door ahead. Jack marched forward and smashed his fist into the big red button set into the wall next to it. The door slid open. A hallway, lit by flickering torches in black sconces along the walls, was revealed. A pair of zombies stumbled around and let out loud groans as they caught sight of him, then began stumbling his way.

Jack lunged forward.

He wrapped his hands around the pallid, half-decayed stumbling former human's neck, whirled around, and threw it back the way he'd come. Letting out a scream of effort, he sent it stumbling and falling to the floor. The second zombie groaned and reached for him. "Oh shut the fuck up!" he screamed, punching it in the temple and sending it lurching away. He hissed in pain, it was like hitting a fucking wall.

But that just pissed him off more. He grabbed the thing's skull and slammed it into the wall, then did it again and again and again until he heard something crunch wetly and a spray of darkened gore escaped its head and it stopped struggling. He dropped it and began to turn around when he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder. It was as lifeless as marble. Normally that would terrify him, but right now his blood felt like it was on fire. He spun around, grabbed the thing's wrist, yanked it forward, and brought his elbow down on its forearm.

The bone gave with a wet snap, but fuck did it hurt!

Most of his right arm went numb. That took some of the fight out of him. Pissed off and in pain, Jack used his left palm to smash the zombie's nose in, driving the shaft of cartilage up into its brain, piercing it and killing it instantly.

He'd had to kill more than one guy like that.

As the body slumped to the floor, Jack got his breath back, wincing as he rubbed his arm and looking around. Now that his anger was slowly bleeding away, he realized that he was exhausted. He looked at the two corpses he'd made, then looked down the corridor, the way yet gone. Something growled, out of sight. He sighed and knelt, patting down both bodies to see if they had anything useful on them.

All he found for his troubles was a combat knife.

Well, it was better than nothing. Some semblance of sanity began to return to Jack as he padded down the corridor, naked and bloody and holding a combat knife. It looked like it was back to basics. He had to find clothing, armor, weapons, a radio, medical supplies, and, most importantly, his team. He was in Hell again. He found that a little hard to believe, not that it was necessarily unbelievable, but that he would ever willingly go back. Looking around, smelling the air, he had to wonder if maybe he was a little crazy.

But what choice did he have?

They had to be stopped, and he and the others were the only ones to do it right now. There was no sense counting on someone else to finish the job. At this point, was there honestly anyone more qualified? If there was, he felt terrible for them. Jack shook his head as he reached the end of the corridor and came into a low room with weird green brick pillars to either side of him. "I'm so sick of this shit," he muttered, raising the knife.