Never Dead: Beyond Nightmares

XIX

Log 13:

Tyr Morgue...

Frank Jordan...

August 13, 2413...

Frank Jordan sipped his coffee. So far, as 'official morgue director,' a title he had given himself, everything was going quietly. There wasn't anything maddening about being inside of the morgue. Well, there are the blood stains from where Bennett shot himself, but that's only a little bit disgusting, not 'shoot myself in the head' crazy. Frank thought to himself about what could have happened to the former communication officer. A few people knew that he had lost his family on Io Station, but he had remained pretty level-headed about it. He must have finally snapped.

While Frank did feel sad about the loss of a fellow crewmate, the man had hardly managed to make his presence known on the Jericho, and he would probably be forgotten within a few weeks. Not only that, but any popularity points he had were erased when he defiled one of the dead bodies.

"This is Official Morgue Director," Frank smiled at the title, "Frank Jordan. Bennett Simms, the previous morgue Director, killed himself yesterday. His body has been placed within the morgue." Frank took another sip. The coffee's sweet aroma managed to drown out the wretched stench of rotting carcass. "According to the reports I've heard, a sandstorm or two will be tearing through this area, and it'll probably undo most of the mining process. Eh, I'm probably not going to be affected by it. Morgue's built to last, and there's an access hatch on the top of the morgue just in case the doors stop working. I'm in no danger unless, by some disaster, ten tons of sand get dropped right where the morgue is. But I doubt that."

Frank... Frank...

The Morgue Official sat up straight immediately. Who said that? The voice sounded slightly familiar, but he couldn't tell where it had come from. He waited a few seconds before deciding, "Must be hearing things. That's not normal." He cleared his ear with his little finger before taking another sip of his coffee.

Frank...

He dropped his coffee mug out of shock. The hot brown liquid splashed all over his beige garments. "Ah! God damn it, that's hot! Ow... Ow... ow..." he mumbled to himself while trying to wipe some of it off. He pulled his pistol out. "Alright, who's there?" Jordan asked as he stood up.

Frank... Frank... Come to me, Frank...

The Official raised his gun and began moving toward the sound of the voice. He had been down on Tyr long enough to know the risk that he could die by someone else's hand if he wasn't careful. "Who's there? Come on, show yourself! I know that I'm not alone here! Come out with your hands up!"

Frank... I have something to tell you... come to me...

Frank moved to the source, a few of the stretchers. Someone was probably hiding behind them. He made a quick sprint around to catch the speaker red-handed. But no one was there.

Frank... Come closer...

Frank shifted his gun to the source of the sound. Simms' body stared at him, with a sadistic smile on its' face. The mouth moved to form words, and soon the audio came with it:

Frank... I need to show you something... take my hand...

The corpse's hand moved to reach for Jordan. He flinched. It wasn't natural for a body to move by itself. It must be a trick. He raised his gun and prepared to fire. But then it occurred to him, Maybe this is what happened to Simms. Really, what's the worst that could happen by listening to a hallucination? He hesitated, battling this situation out in his head. Eventually, he let go of his gun with his left hand and took in the outstretched hand of Bennett.

The world went white. Bennett was standing in front of the Morgue Director, as if nothing had gone wrong the day before. He was completely unscathed, and smiling. "Frank... this is what will happen to us if you listen to me..." He moved back a few meters, and then exploded in a brilliant explosion of white light. The explosion became a glorious cloud of light mist. Soon, people started to walk into the mist. People that were dead, but now unscathed, like Bennett only seconds ago. Kyle Hendricks, the first suicide. Jason James, the acting first mate. Amanda Manning, the psychologist who had died in "the unfortunate accident." And... Jacob Duncan, out of his wheelchair. Was the man dead now? Apparently, based on the current context. Soon, the mist faded. Only one person remained out of all that entered. The man was a combination of all of them, combined to form a beautiful creature. In a soothing voice, it told Frank Jordan, "You see, Frank... If you do as I ask, then we will all become one. We will be one. But first, you must make us whole... Make us one... One being..."

The man awoke from his trance. He wiped his eyes upon realizing he had tears upon his face. He looked around, before realizing that it had all been just a hallucination, and he was holding the hand of a dead body. He let go, and brushed his hand off before nudging Bennett's to see if it would twitch. Obviously, it did not. The Morgue Director sighed in annoyance, and moved back to the chair he had been originally sitting in. He sat down, and began considering going back to the mess hall to get another cup of coffee.

"What are you thinking about?" A voice asked. Frank wasn't going to fall for it a second time. He didn't turn to acknowledge it a second time.

"I'm trying to decide whether I should get another mug of coffee. I spilled mine."

"You should probably do that. It's free coffee, and you only get it for a few more days until you have to go back onto the Jericho." Frank thought about what the Bennett hallucination was saying. It did make sense, what it was saying. It was coffee, and it would only be a while before he had to start paying for it with credits. Best to take advantage of the situation.

Frank stood up and went to the front door of the Tyr morgue, pausing only when he raised his hand to open the door. What if this is some part of some master plan brought about by the hallucination? He thought to himself about that, then shrugged it off. I don't think that a figment of my imagination could have that much control. We waved his hand in front of the glowing cyan OPEN sign. The door opened, and he stepped outside.

The sky around him was turning a dark tan. The whole world around him was preparing for the sandstorm that would soon be coming. A few miners ran to the mess hall, apparently trying to take a break from the unusual object that had fixated the attention of the Captain. Frank almost began to think badly of the Captain, but decided against it. Captain's probably having as much trouble up there with the politics of the ship as we're having with the psychos down here. He began to move to the mess hall.

When he arrived, he found it quite crowded, opposed to the usual small group that had been procrastinating with working. "Why's it this crowded today?" he asked a nearby miner.

The miner turned around to reveal himself as Zach James, the more 'optimistic' member of the higher circle of miners. "Oh, well..." He looked down and lightly chuckled. "You might want to get that checked out," he said, pointing to the coffee stain on Frank's lower garment.

Frank eye-rolled at this. "That doesn't answer my question."

"Heh... Well, apparently a few people got it in their heads that if they stop digging now, they won't have to worry about the sandstorm. But if they just kept mining, we would probably be done by now. Bunch of slackers," the man said, spitting after the last word. He sighed. "But you're probably here for a coffee refill. Get it while it's hot, a few people are starting to convince the others that it's the coffee that makes people go insane. Which would explain why the HMO's doing so well fighting it, man never comes in here," he joked.

Frank walked over to the coffee machine, and pushed the dispense button after placing his coffee cup in the right location. He waited for it to be done, then took his mug and left the hall. He took a sip. He looked at the brown sky. The sandstorm would probably arrive during the night. Who knew when it would end?

"It's really funny, isn't it?" asked the Bennett-llucination. "All of your fellow crewmates are dying by plasma picks. Plasma picks look a little bit like scythes. Funny, that."

"What are you talking about now?" the Morgue Director asked in annoyance.

"I'm just saying... maybe they would prefer it if they just died now, as opposed to what could happen when the... Lurkers show up."

"The what? What are you rambling on about?"

"You have to kill them, Frank."

"What—No!"

"Do it. Do it... to make us one..."

Suddenly, Frank's mind was assaulted by images of the perfect creature in his vision. He dropped his coffee again, this time on the ground. But he wasn't frustrated or even annoyed by this. He was too busy with the ideas forcing their way into his head now, trying to force them out. Then, one idea forced its way through his defenses. Plasma gun...

It was so obvious. Although Marcus Stone had used one to kill everything onboard Io Station, the UMC had never made the decision to remove all plasma guns from the ship's essential equipment list. Mainly because they were an essential piece of equipment. And it just happened that Frank Jordan knew how to get some. There were some cutters sitting in the equipment locker, where everyone got their plasma picks. Although it had only been opened once, by Kyle Hendricks and the necessary codes, Frank had a very good memory, and was there when Hendricks entered the codes in question.

Frank moved, almost zombie-like, to the equipment locker. He was trying to stop himself, but was also trying to speed up the process at the same time. He wanted to be one being but he didn't want to kill anyone to become it. Soon, though, he got to the locker, and opened it. Inside were three plasma guns, and the necessary ammunition to wield them. He grabbed one, and five clips of plasma energy. That would probably be more than enough.

The man moved to the mess hall, keeping the guns hidden. He stopped near the door and picked up his mug. He went for the door.

"Hey, Frank. Back already? I guess I did tell you to get it while it's still there. Go ahead, coffee's where it always is," James said while trying to calm a crazed miner who had apparently snapped.

Frank set his mug in position. He pressed the dispensing button.

Then he turned around and opened fire. The first shot took three men down with it, their brains splattering across the cold grey steel around them. A quick adjustment and a few more went down. Three more, then two, then five. Zach James ran for the door, making an attempt to leave. He opened the door and let out a scream of pain as his torso was severed from his lower half with a well-placed shot. Both halves collapsed to the ground. Frank cringed as he heard the scream. Odds were, someone else heard it. But they would probably make their way to the mess hall to investigate. Then he wouldn't have to hunt them down.

He continued firing at the remaining miners, none of them getting anywhere near close enough to the door to let out a warning like James had. Frank killed them all off, then waited for someone to show up. He didn't have to wait long.

"Frank! I know you're in there! Drop the weapon and put your hands up!" It was the voice of Greg Payton, the Head Mining Official.

Frank pulled out his pistol and held it in his free hand, preparing to open fire on anyone who came in with both the gun and the engineering tool.

"Last warning! I don't want to do this, Frank!"

There was a pause before anything happened, a calm-before-the-storm. But Greg was the one to break it. He ran in, raising his pistol and trying to land a headshot on the Morgue Director. Frank returned fire, and ceased only when ammo ran out of the guns. No one hit anything. He dropped his pistol, being the worthless piece of equipment that it was. He reloaded the gun and aimed before firing, this time taking both of Greg's hands clear off with one shot. The man screeched in pain, but then charged in an attempt to tackle the murderer.

Say what you want about Greg; he's one determined guy. Frank aimed his gun, then fired. The shot split Greg Payton's head clear in half, and the man fell to the ground. Soon, another man came in, brandishing his gun. John White, the former chief of security. And the man had a sense of aim. One well-placed shot disarmed Frank, and another rendered his right arm immobile. He fell to the ground, nursing the wound.

"You've still got it in you, old timer," John told himself, confident that Frank was immobilized. That was his biggest, last mistake.

Despite what reports had all said, Frank was ambidextrous. He had trained himself to be so. And it was about to pay off. Greg's severed hands were sitting in front of him, still gripping the pistol that would now save Frank Jordan's life. With his left hand, he grabbed the gun and raised it towards John. One of the dead fingers, conveniently wrapped around the trigger twitched for the last time, and killed the former chief of security.

Frank stood up. Now, he had to find the other miners.

That won't be necessary...

"What do you mean, 'it won't be necessary'? You told me I had to kill everyone!" Frank asked as he pried the hands of Greg Payton off of his new pistol.

You see, we're ready now. Come back to the morgue, and you'll see. You've come one step closer to making us whole.

Frank sighed. The hallucination hadn't misled— no, actually, that was just about all it had done. But it was for a good cause. He began to head to the morgue.

When he got there, the door was glowing orange, with it apparently locking itself after Jordan had left. Something flesh-like was forcing its way out of the frame. He entered his access code, and the door slowly opened after the orange turned to cyan.

When the door opened, he was nearly crushed. A large, dog-like creature pounced on him, and sent him flying down into the sand. He was pinned under its weight. The creature looked him in the eyes. Then it was obvious. This creature was the body of Bennett.

The lower jaw was split, and the canine teeth had extended to freakish proportions. Both of the back legs were fused into one. And it weighed a lot. But it was obvious, looking into the eyes, that this was the man once known as Bennett Simms.

The creature made a few bites at Frank's head, all of which barely missed. A few unusual looking bipedial creatures walked out of the morgue, flailing as they went. Scythes forced their way out of their shoulders. Frank felt the Bennett-creature bite into his neck. He gave out one final gasp of air.

As the world dimmed, Frank could only stare into the sky. A shuttle was on its way down. It would have to deal with the horrors Frank had unleashed. With his last bit of air, he barely managed to say, "We won't be one."

***