"What the fuck," I whisper under my breath. My stomach clenches, and the ground feels like it's dropping from beneath my feet. "What the fuck!" I nearly shout, remembering too late that I should be keeping my voice down.

The others' headlamps turn, all pointing at me like I'm on stage under the spotlight. I pinch my eyes shut against the sudden, intense brightness.

"Oh my God," Star says. "Is that . . ."

Her voice trails off as she comes to the same realization I have.

I feel like I'm going to be sick. The starship we found earlier—abandoned, except for the parasites and their hosts hibernating within it—didn't travel through some wormhole in deep space. It didn't come from a nearby planet with intelligent life we just weren't aware of.

It came from Earth! Of course it did. The simplest answer is almost always the right one, and the evidence was right in front of us the whole time. The ship landed at nearly the exact same spot we did. What are the chances a starship from somewhere else would have chosen the same destination on a planet nearly the size of Earth?

Anger surges through my body. My hands shake as I clench them into fists. The only reason I didn't figured it out sooner was I didn't want to believe it. I was afraid of finding out the truth, so I kept myself from thinking about it too hard.

"What the fuck!" I snap my head around to face the others. My eyes land on America. He shields his as the beam from my headlamp burns his retinas.

"You lied to me!" I snarl at him. I feel my lips curling back, baring my teeth. "We weren't the first mission. That starship we found—that came from Earth!"

"Shawn," he raises both hands in front of himself, like he is trying to calm me, but I don't want any of his bullshit. "Calm down. Let's just talk for a second."

I take a step towards him, my body still physically shaking. "You knew this wasn't the first mission." I point my finger at him. "You knew!"

"I didn't know!" he shouts. "ICC told me this was the first mission! That's all I knew. I had no idea—"

"I don't care!" I yell. "Whether you knew when we left or not—it doesn't matter. You knew where it came from when we found it! You must have. You designed the fucking thing. Of course you recognized it!"

Hesitantly, he nods and pinches his eyes shut. When he opens them, he looks away from me, refusing to make eye contact. "You're right. I did."

"And you kept that secret from all of us?" Star backs me up. She stands next to America, both hands on her hips.

"Look, I would have explained it, but we didn't have any time." America glances between Star and me, the light from his headlamp flickering over the slimy surface of the alcove we've climbed into. "After those things attacked, I didn't think it mattered anymore. Finding the ship abandoned like that . . . I thought they must've just sent one of the ships as an unmanned test mission. I didn't think it would've actually been manned."

His light lands on the old, discarded helmet at my feet, and he grimaces. "I spent nearly a year in prison without any information about what was going on. No word from them. I got no updates about the progression of the mission. No details of the plan." A pause. "There were times I thought they'd abandoned me. Left me to rot."

I let a heated plume of air out of my nose. My helmet's glass fogs up for a second before clearing.

"Every day, I hoped I'd finally get word from them," America continues. "Every day, I fought to keep myself from wondering if I'd made the biggest mistake of my life." He pauses for a second. "I know I haven't been completely honest, and for that I'm sorry. But I didn't keep this from you to hurt you."

I meet his gaze, holding it for a moment, the two of us panting from arguing. The scratches on his face continue to leak red through the dirt that's stuck to them. He licks a trace of blood that drips from his lower lip. His dark eyes glisten like he's tearing up but trying to hold it together.

He's not lying to us. He really didn't know. I try to calm myself, breathing out heavily through my nose, but still, I can't help but be angry. He could have told us. He should have.

"You still should have told us." My tone comes out harsh and cold. "You had plenty of chances."

"Hey guys," Elias suddenly breaks into the conversation before America can respond.

I snap my head around to look at him. He faces away from the rest of us, staring at the back of the alcove.

"What?" America nearly shouts.

"I think we have a bigger problem to deal with right now." He raises a shaking hand and points toward the coffin-shaped stones I saw when we entered. In the light of his headlamp, the pink algae that covers them shines like slimy spiderwebs.

I freeze. Blood rushes behind my ears.

Then, one of the pods pulses. The membrane throbs, like a sick, diseased heart pumping.

I gasp, my breath catching in my throat as I take an involuntary step back.

The sound of something tearing crackles through the air. Like a sewn mouth prying open, a seam in the coffin rips. A slimy, rot-colored hand shoots out from within the pod. Five grimy fingers claw into the fleshy algae sack, straining as they pull at the membrane. Rust-colored dirt is caked around the yellowed fingernails, and purple and grey mold mottle the hand and wrist.

Another hand swings out of the seam, the entire arm following behind. The creature pulls at its pod, using its elbow to leverage itself as it rises to its feet.

The grey, sagging face that emerges from the membrane stretches its jaw, pulling its blackened lips back to expose a set of sharp, calcified teeth like pointy seashells. Between them, thin, spaghetti-like worms writhe. They burrow a Swiss cheese of holes in the gums and spread disease across the swollen, blackened tongue.

Two dilated eyes stare out of the sunken face, blindly twitching within their sockets. Torn threads of dirt-splotched clothes that were once identical to the spacesuits we are wearing cling to the creature's shoulders and protruding hip bones.

A guttural, choking croak like the caw of a crow explodes from the throat of the monster that was once human. The sound echoes through the entire alcove, ringing through my ears.

"Oh my God!" Star screams.

As the monster takes a lunging step towards us, the algae coating the adjacent pods twitch. The sacks throb as the membranes split along their seams.

"Run!" Elias shouts.

But, before he can make a move, the monster throws its body towards him. Its clawed hands extend, gripping him at the shoulders and shoving him to the ground. The same gut-wrenching caw croaks from its throat as Elias lands with a thump on his back.

"Elias!" I scream.

Without thinking, I charge, diving at the monster trying to bite him. With a smack, my helmet collides with its shoulder. The monster slams to the rocky ground beneath me.

I throw my hands in front of myself and latch on to the gooey, rotting flesh stretched over its collar bones. My light shines into its dilated, dead eyes as I shift one hand to grip it by the throat, pinning it down. Its trachea throbs and contracts beneath my fingers as it attempts to let out a strangled croak.

I pull a hot breath in through my teeth, and with a grunt, I swing a gloved fist into its nose. Cartilage crunches and cracks as bloody worms ooze over its cheek bones and rotten lips. Gritting my teeth, I wind back and punch it again.

"Shawn, behind you!" Elias screams.

Still gripping the undead human at its neck, I swing my head over my shoulder. A larger human-monster rushes towards me. Half-decayed muscles stretch across the zombie's chest and bulge from its arms. Blackened blood and dirt crust over a bruise-colored bite wound on the side of its neck. Worms crawl within it, chewing at the rotting flesh.

"Fuck!" I scream as it barrels at me.

I release my clawed grip on the smaller undead and swing my hips around, thrusting both feet up to block myself as the behemoth dives at me. My knees buckle as the creature impacts the soles of my boots. A jolt of pain zaps up both sides of my bad ankle. My head swings back, my helmet colliding with something that crunches like an enormous tarantula beneath it. Out of the corners of my eyes, I see blood and tiny parasitic worms splattering around me.

A shudder rushes through me. I've smashed the other zombie's head.

Before I can move to get out of the way, the face of the larger undead crashes into the glass on the front of my helmet. Worms burst from its teeth and gums as its moldy, swollen tongue smacks and licks the transparent barrier between us. A trail of slime, blood and maggots crawls across the glass of my helmet.

"Get it off me!" I cry. I shove at its chest, but it's too heavy for me to lift. It doesn't even budge. "Help!"

Bony hands close around my upper arms. The crooked fingers press into my flesh through my spacesuit. I swing my good leg, kneeing the creature in the gut, but it doesn't let up. The monster curls its lips back, baring its teeth in a snarl. With a croaking grunt, it dives in at the thin part in my suit on the side of my neck.

Right as I feel its teeth pressing against me, a foot flies through the air, the heel grazing off the glass of my helmet and kicking the zombie in its jaw. Worms spew from its mouth as it's flung from me. Its skull crashes into the rocky side of the alcove, busting like a jack-o-lantern in November.

"I've got you!" America grabs me by the wrist and yanks me to my feet. He drags me back towards where Star is pulling Elias up.

"Die already you fucking piece of shit," she yells. She kicks the zombie that's face I bashed in one last time before stomping on it for good measure—making sure it's really dead.

Once Elias is standing, the four of us move in unison without even exchanging a glance. We back up towards each other, forming a defensive square. Each of us face out and watch a different direction. America is still grasping me at the wrist, and Star clasps my other hand, pressing her gloved fingers between mine. I tighten my grip on her, linking us all together.

"We've got to get out of here," Elias pants.

My heart races as my entire body shakes. More than half a dozen of the creatures now surround us. The sounds of guttural caws echo through the alcove. The creatures' blind eyes roll around in their skulls like marbles, but they don't need those to find us. They're seeing without eyes—using clicks and croaks as echolocation in the depths of this dark cave where they've been hibernating for who-knows how long.

The zombies bare their teeth, muscles ticking and twitching. Then, before any of us can say another word, they charge.