The DOOM Chronicles

Chapter 07: The Nuclear Plant

"I don't suppose you have even the slightest idea as to what's going on, do you?"

Jack turned and looked back through the open door at Stanmore, who was sitting on one of the benches in the first compartment of the tram. They'd been riding in silence for a good five minutes now, progressing smoothly beneath the glass tube. There wasn't anything to see out there but space and Mars overhead and the dry grayness of Phobos. Jack's mind had been running furiously for the entirety of all those minutes.

"No solid intel," he replied and turned back.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Stanmore groused.

"It means I don't know anything for sure beyond the fact that there are apparently fucking zombies and my team is missing and the radio is dead." Although that wasn't entirely true. He still remembered that flat, dead voice with its cryptic, chilling phrase. In his mind, he could still hear those dry words. What did it mean?

What did any of this mean?

"Could it be a toxin? Or a disease? A virus?" Stanmore asked suddenly. He got up and joined Jack in the control area.

Jack sighed. "I don't know, Stanmore. It could be anything. Could be cosmic rays for all we know, or an alien plague. The only intel that matters for the moment is that we can kill them pretty easily. But some intel I'd like to know is: do you have any real training?"

"What? I mean...some," Stanmore muttered.

"Define 'some'," Jack replied.

The pilot sighed. "My uncle used to take me shooting and I was okay at it, and when I signed on to be a pilot for the UAC, they made me take a few courses. Essentially very, very basic military training. How to shoot a gun, load a gun, clear a room..."

"So how come you aren't better at this?"

"I'm not a fucking soldier! And I'm kind of freaking out because we're facing the goddamned walking dead!"

"Fine, but I need you to focus up, Stanmore. Remember the basics. You watch my back, you don't point the gun at anything you don't intend to kill. We go into a room, I cover one side, you cover another. You call out when you see a threat."

"Yeah, all right, fine. I...I got it," he replied, going and sitting back down.

Jack suppressed another sigh and returned his attention to the growing structure ahead. Its huge, flattened pyramid design was kind of throwing him off. He realized, suddenly, why there was such a broad, flat space on the roof: it was a landing pad. He imagined they offloaded hazardous waste there sometimes, stuff that couldn't be taken care of by the Toxin Refinery. Jack realized he was getting distracted.

As they neared, he tried the radio one more time, but all he got was the same flat silence as before. Well, it was better than some other super creepy thing. Maybe there were survivors here, or at least a freaking shotgun. It'd be nice to lay his hands on one of those pump actions and blow open some zombie skulls.

"Get ready, Stanmore, we're almost there," he called back.

The tram pressed on, passing through the final stretch of tube and then sliding into the airlock, which, mercifully, still worked. He waited, listening to the hissing and other telltales of a big airlock doing its duty. He had no idea what would be waiting for him on the other side. Part of his mind told him: more zombies.

But he couldn't stop thinking about that red creature he'd seen.

Abruptly, the airlock sounds died away and the corresponding door opened up into another terminal area. He didn't see anyone or anything waiting for them on the loading platform. Nonetheless, after the tram settled into its position and went into standby mode, he stood and pulled his sidearm from its holster.