Chapter 06: Something Like Hope

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Kyra's tram was almost to the point in the glass-and-steel tunnel where it forked, right path leading to Research, left to Utilities.

That was when it happened.

That was when her radio chattered to life in a haze of static.

She was nearly napping in the driver's seat, waves of lethargy crashing relentlessly on the shores of her fortitude. The trams had a false sense of security to them. She knew the tram was clear at least, or as clear as she could be certain, but there were so many crazy-ass things happening that she no longer took even the most basic things for granted.

"...God's sake, is anyone picking up this fucking transmission!?"

Kyra jerked awake at the sound, her heart spiking painfully in her chest as she automatically activated her radio.

She recognized the voice. "Garret?!"

"Kyra?! Oh thank fucking God, I thought you were dead! Where are you? Uh...over." She had never heard someone sound so relieved before, and she felt about as relieved as he sounded just then. Finally, another person!

"I'm in a tram heading to Research, where are you? Over."

"We're in the Utilities building. Over."

Kyra looked up ahead and saw that she just had time to make the adjustment. Fingers flying across the control pad, she readjusted the tram's course, setting it to break left and pushing its speed even faster. "We? Over."

"Yeah! Uh, I'm here with Ross and Banks, and a scientist who survived this mess. We're on the move right now, pretty deep in. Over."

"I'm coming right now. Do you know where any of the others are? Over."

"Some of them. I saw Whitley die. Lance Corporal White and Private Finch are dead, too. White got swarmed by those zombie fuckers and one of the big pig demons took Finch's fucking head off. I haven't seen any of the others. Over."

Kyra sighed heavily. "Reed, Meyers, Peters, and Erikson are all KIA. Over."

"Jesus fuck," Garret whispered, his voice heavy with anger and fear. "We could really use your help, Staff Sergeant. I think-"

He cut off suddenly as something roared and machine gun fire came onto the airwaves. Someone screamed, a voice she didn't recognize, maybe the scientist, and then it all went to nothing. "Garret? Garret?! Talk to me!" she snapped.

But there was nothing.

She kept trying to raise them until she hit the airlock of the Utilities building, then gave up. She had to find them. The tram finished its gut-wrenchingly slow crawl through the airlock and settled into place at a platform of dark metal. Kyra stepped out through the doors as soon as they were open, shotgun in hand. A lone zombie was moving around the platform, and something about it made her hesitate.

It wasn't wandering.

It almost looked like it was...patrolling.

She shouldered her shotgun and squeezed the trigger. The slug shell rocketed from its dark metal nest and blew the awful thing's head off its shoulders, cleanly knocking whatever parody of life still lingered in its decaying frame out of it. She swept the corners and niches of the area, noting the more utilitarian nature of the building, and then made for the far door. She hit the access button. A red light flared and it buzzed angrily at her.

Kyra tried it once more and got similar results.

She ground her teeth together in mounting frustration as she stared at the unresponsive thing, resisting the urge to just shoot it. All at once, inspiration struck. Or rather memory. She looked around and up, quickly spying a ventilation grate. This one was big enough for her to fit into. For whatever reason that these were designed that way, unlike some of the other buildings, she took the opportunity presented to her and hurried over to it. Working fast, Kyra shoved a nearby silver crate, stamped with the ugly UAC logo of course, beneath the grate and clambered up on top of it.

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