Greg wasn't sure if Kyra was a genius, but she seemed both confident and competent. The pair made their way across the rainy, uneven ground toward the central hub of the camp: the communications array. Kyra went first, playing her flashlight across the dreary corridor. She eyed the fresh corpse and then stepped into the radio room.
"Goddamn," she whispered, staring at the ruined equipment.
She spent a few moments inspecting it, making unhappy noises while she did so. Greg kept watch, his back to her, mulling over the recent developments.
So it was zombies. Stumbling, drooling, biting zombies.
Images of mottled flesh and blackened veins dredged up bursts and flashes of memories. Countless novels, vids, and games had been dedicated to the subject over the centuries, and he seemed to remember experiencing much of this media. Greg found it ironic that he, a man without memory, was more mentally suited to handle the undead than the average person. The status of this outpost seemed to hold up to the fact that the general population hadn't done well, probably spending too much time with the whole 'I refuse to believe this is happening' mentality.
"Shit!" Kyra's loud curse jarred Greg from his thoughts. He twisted around and glanced back into the radio room.
"Yes, this entire thing is shot to shit. I won't really know how salvageable the situation is until the power is back on. If the power station is anything like this...then we might as well just head to a different outpost."
Kyra emerged from the room and Greg followed her back out into the rain. He scanned for more of the walking dead, but the area remained void.
"There are more bases here?" Greg asked as they approached the station. Kyra nodded, she rubbed some rain from her eyes.
"Yeah, a storage complex and I think a mining operation. Maybe more, I didn't have time to look at the map and I'm not too familiar with the area this far from my base."
"Mining operation...maybe that's where they came from," Greg suggested, his mind working, trying to find some reason for the zombies.
Kyra shrugged. "Maybe. It's weird though...out of all the crazy shit out here among the stars, traditional zombies were the last thing I think anyone expected to find."
They reached the power station. Greg was happy to be out of the rain as they moved into the small lobby. Kyra led the way, moving slowly into the looming red-lit interior. He was content to let her do so, as she seemed to know that much more about the situation than he did. The power station held just a few rooms connected by a single corridor.
Each room housed some kind of equipment, big panels or large pieces of machinery. Most of it, Greg guessed, monitored the different processes of the plant. Kyra spent a few moments in each room, studying the equipment. At least inside the power station the emergency power worked, even if the lighting was low and dim. After they cleared the building, Greg stood guard, feeling useless. He played with the sight on his pistol while Kyra worked behind him.
"So...any luck?" he asked after several moments of uncomfortable silence had passed. All he could hear was the wind and the rain.
"Yes." Kyra's voice carried back to him from somewhere deeper within. She sounded the happiest so far since they'd met.
A loud click followed her response. Greg jumped in surprise. The lights, clear, beautiful, and white, flickered to life, replacing the eerie crimson glow. Kyra emerged from the generator room she'd occupied with a big smirk on her face.
YOU ARE READING
The first novel in The Shadow Wars. How terrifying would it be to wake up with no memories? How much worse would it get if you happened to be in a crashed vessel full of corpses? For Greg Bishop, this nightmare has just become a reality. With nothin...