Bella Starr

With the two infected passengers chasing us, I hustle as hard as I can, shoving Halo and Astra down the long hallway. On both sides of the corridor, people pound and claw at the stateroom doors. The impacts sound like off-beat drums, filling the narrow hall and closing in on me as we sprint for safety. I glance left, and then right, at the vibrating metal doors. I remember how easy it was to bulldoze my way into Caprica's room, but the doors open inward, which means it will be much harder to knock them down from the inside. That doesn't comfort me much.

I crane my neck to see the infected people chasing us.

Zombies, for lack of a better word.

But the infected passengers can't be zombies. Zombies are not real. They're fictional. And if zombies existed, they couldn't run this fast or be this vicious. Could they?

And besides that, in movies and books, zombies are dead. They aren't alive.

I can't think of the infected people that way. Calling them zombies means they're beyond help. Gone forever. No hope. But if they're only sick or infected, doctors could cure them. Meaning they could cure Caprica too. Meaning Cap has hope, and if my friend stays locked up in the bathroom long enough, we could get help for her.

But first, we have to survive.

Ahead of us, further down the hallway, a door bursts open. At first, it's just one door, but then several more fly open with sick people flooding the corridor, trampling over each other, snapping like jackals at the person closest to them. They strive for the opportunity to tear into my dark complected skin, a natural tone from my family tree. I'm a quarter Italian, a quarter Hispanic, and half Caucasian, recalling a class project I did in high school based on the theme of heritage. The point... I can picture the infected chomping into my arm like an hors d'oeuvre. My purple tank top won't provide any protection from their grinding teeth.

The hallway fills with the infected's howls and the screams of people fleeing for their lives.

I feel hemmed in front and back. Up ahead, just in time, the short intersecting hall comes into view. Halo leads Astra by the wrist as I shove both of them around the corner toward the elevator.

A thought comes to me, a little too late. We screech by the stairwell that leads up to the next level or down further into the ship to the engine room and maintenance shafts.

When the elevator doors don't open automatically, Halo slaps at the sensor on the wall.

The elevators work slowly when people are trying to use them. Above the double doors, like earlier on the Sea Breeze Deck, the floor indicator shows the steel box paused on the top deck. It won't be coming for us soon.

Chaos erupts behind us.

A hoarde of the infected push an elderly couple to the floor and pile on top of them. Once again, one word seems to best describe the sick people... zombies.

No, I refuse to call them that, but I can't stop the word from invading my brain. It's the way the infected act. They snarl and growl, feasting on the older couple, who scream and cry for help.

I pull Halo and Astra away from the elevators, guiding them deeper into the intersecting hallway until we reach another corridor with more stateroom doors. As we run, I smell an odor I haven't noticed before. It comes from the direction of the sick people in the other hallway. Like they stink. Their breath, their skin. I don't know which is more offensive, but it seems the more agitated the infected become, the more the stench grows.

We turn left down the hallway, looking for some place to hide as more sick people pursue us, grunting like animals. They're like nasty wolverines, ready to sink their teeth into whatever they can eat as long as it's fresh and human.

Now, I'm in the lead. I try the first few knobs we come across, but all the doors are locked. We have to find somewhere to hide. To lock ourselves in, hunker down, and lie low until things quieten, if it ever will. Running won't work for long. At least for the short term, hiding appears to be the key to survival, like I did on the Sea Breeze Deck.

Behind us, a young woman screams as a pair of infected passengers chase after her. Behind her, a sick person tackles and mauls someone else.

The fists continue to pound on the doors down this hallway, too.

I stop at a door labeled STORAGE ROOM.

Even better, the door stands cracked open, left ajar by someone in a hurry... a crew member or a cabin steward running to get away from the infected. There is no choice for us. We have no other alternatives. We have to enter the room and hide.

As the roars echo around us, I put my hand to the door.

Halo stops me. "Wait. They could trap inside us and we might never get out."

"Or die out here." Astra forces her way in, past Halo and I.

"No choice now," I say.

Halo nods, jawline tight with tension.

Behind him, the young woman with flowing chestnut hair races in our direction. "Wait! Please wait."

I move toward her to help, but Halo jerks me by the wrist and slings me into the storage room. I try to fight past him, but he blocks my path and won't let me leave the room.

The woman screams, but it's too late. The infected drown out her cries as their teeth tear her apart. I don't have to see it. I can hear it. The woman's tortured voice gargles in her throat.

I smell the stench. It's repulsive. I scrunch my nose, realizing what the smell is—it's the odor of vomit and stomach bile. Most of the infected had thrown up moments before they died or passed out. What I smell and what sickens me is the stench of the virus, the smell of the infection as it ravages the host's body and forces them into submission, turning the person into a zombie.

Halo slams the door and bolts the latch. The room goes dark, but I hear what he does next. It's the only thing that makes sense. He pulls a metal storage shelf over and leans it against the door to barricade us inside the storage room. Fortunately, with the door shut, the smell goes away, but the woman's cries torment me in the darkness. I sink to the floor against the wall, drawing my knees close to my chest, covering my ears, desperately willing to block out the howls of the sick people as they devour everyone in their path.

Then I hear a growl in the darkened room and realize we're not alone.