There was no way I was letting the only other survivor I’d seen in seven years get bitten. The six zombies that had made it in were still howling and trying to reach her when I grabbed the first one by a foot. I pulled it in and crushed its skull with one gauntlet as I reached for another. Though there was still plenty of ammunition the risk of ricochets and over penetration was too high for that.

Fortunately, the zombies discovered me as I crushed the second one to paste against the combat suit’s armored chest. Two more zombies broke off and came for me with gleeful cries and outstretched claws. Cries of joy turned to a gurgle as one impacted a blade on my outstretched arm.

The other was silent. I’d misjudged my reach and poked it in the chest. But a poke from a nearly one ton exoskeleton was no small thing. That meant the zombie no longer had any lungs as it weakly pawed at the hole in its torso, then its eyes glazing over in final death.

The first four had fallen quickly but not quickly enough. One zombie was struggling to get out from under a pile of crates that it had crashed into but the other had managed to grab onto the catgirl’s left leg. She kicked it hard with the other foot, causing its head to snap backwards, but that only made it pause for a second. She struck it again, pushing it away. That gave me enough time to grab it by the chest. And squeeze.

I’d become accustomed to a certain amount of mess when fighting. Blood and pulped bits of flesh had covered my suit time and again. When fighting in the Hospital, I’d been in too much pain after to realize quite how bad it was. The sticky mess that had covered me was more of a minor note of discomfort against the symphony of various aches, pains, and agonies that were at the forefront of my attention.

Catgirls do not like being dirty. I learned this fact at the precise moment our eyes locked while I was squeezing the life out of the zombie that was still attached to her.

She was an older woman. Her eyes were catlike, her nose narrow and small, her lips firmly pressed together in disapproval. Her shining silver hair was not just an affectation. Her eyebrows were silver. Tiny glinting flecks of silver glittered the skin of her face, evidence of the faint fuzz that all people have over nearly every part of our bodies. She had deep laugh lines and creases that told of someone who often smiled. Which she was not doing at that very moment.

The last zombie was still trying to escape its predicament, so I chose to take care of that in a much less messy fashion, stomping on its head. The combat suit was no bloodier than it had been afterwards, at least.

“I hope you’ve a plan to get us out of here. Where are the rest of you? And-” Of course she was mad. Understandably so. But there was no time. I could hear the zombies battering at it already.

“There’s only one of me. And we need to get out of here. Now.”

“How? There’s a massive horde of them out there. And where?” Behind me, the warehouse door emitted a slight creaking sound.

“Over the hull. There’s an airlock next to the Headquarters dock. In through there,”

“Headquarters survived? Of course they did. They have all the guns.”

“No, management fled. But it’s free of zombies, or should be. Go through the management section and out to the bridge area with the big armor glass windows. There’s a hidden elevator to the left, take it down. Through the armory in Security, past the front desk, down the hall, and another left to Security Medical. There are supplies there.”

“So who’s left? Besides you?”

“Some people in the Hospital stasis pods is all I know. Plus you.”

“And Sam.”

“Sam?” A particularly loud bang followed by a groan sounded from the other end of the warehouse, where we’d entered. We both looked over, but nothing had made it in yet.

“Navy guy. He’s in the other pod. We hid in here when everything went to hell. There was some sort of Security lockdown that closed all the warehouses but Sam got this one open. Then he hacked these two pods and we got in, hoping everything would blow over by the time we woke up.”

“He’s in the other pod?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ve got a spare space suit. We can put one of you in that, and grab one from the airlocks-” She laughed.

“What?”

“Those spacesuits are long gone. People were running from the horde any way they could. I saw several make it to the airlocks but we were too far away. We were lucky to make it in here alive.”

“No spacesuit. What about the emergency suits?” That’s where I’d gotten mine.

“Seriously? No one on the station maintains those. They pencil whip the records. Everyone does that here.”

“I maintained mine...”

“Again, seriously? What are you, some kind of nerd?” She moved to the active pod, starting the revival sequence.

“Researcher. Nanite training and behavioral analysis program.”

“Not a soldier?” The pod beeped and hummed as it slowly brought its occupant back to the land of the living.

“No.” I exited the combat suit with a squelch. The gore covering every inch of the suit transferred some of itself to me as I stepped out, grabbing my pistol and knife and the escape kit with its unknown contents. The deck was cold under my bare feet. The Wampus Cat stirred sleepily on my head.

“What are you doing?” The catgirl did not turn around. Inside the stasis pod was a shorter man of indeterminate age. He could have been thirty or sixty for all I could tell. Short brown hair and a strong jawline, heavily built and toned musculature. He looked like he could bench press the combat suit in normal gravity.

“You two sneak out and go over the hull. The combat suit may not have a lot of power left, but it will hold air. Head up to the Headquarters airlock like I told you and go down the hidden elevator to Security Medical. You remember the way?”

“Of course, I remember the way. These ears aren’t just for decoration.” She flicked the large, furry ears atop her head slightly. “But what about you?”

“And what have you been doing with the combat suit to draw down the power level so low? It should remain active for at least a couple of weeks on full charge.” The man spoke softly, hands rubbing his face as he climbed out of the pod. The shriek of tortured metal sounded from the door and I could see light coming through near the top.

“Documentation said twenty minutes under combat load or two hours activity-”

“Naw, that’s just the emergency maintenance battery. The standard core will run for a month or two. Why else would you put up with the catheter if you only had to hold it for a couple of hours?” I blinked. The undeniable logic of that had escaped me at the time.

“Regardless, you two need to suit up and get going.”

“And what will you be doing?” the catgirl asked again.

“Keeping the horde occupied for a little bit.”

“That didn’t go well for me.”

“I’ve dealt with hordes before.” With grenades and armor and lots and lots of bullets.

“We’ll come with you.” The shorter man climbed into the combat suit. He didn’t seem to need to hack his way in. Probably had the military credentials that I lacked. The catgirl had already put the bloody space suit on. She looked at the gore soaked helmet disapprovingly and attempted to wipe the visor clear with a bit of rag. It was of limited success.

“No, it will be safer for you to travel over the hull. When you get out of the warehouse, hide in the shadows up near the ceiling. The combat suit’s sensor functions should keep you clear. Don’t get into fights with the horde, it will follow you to the airlock and breach the door behind you, trapping you inside.”

“And here. Take this little fuzzball with you. The formula for the bottle is in Security Medical’s office. It eats a lot.” I carefully detached said tiny monster from my hair, bottle and all. The catgirl blinked at me and accepted it gently once I finally removed the grasping paws from my hand. Then she tucked the squirming thing into her suit.

That’s when I noticed that its eyes were finally open. It looked at me and peeped and meeped crossly, like it did when the bottle was empty. It wasn’t. The fuzzball wasn’t even interested in the bottle at the moment.

“You’ll need to keep it warm, too. The medical computer says they can’t regulate their own body temperature when they’re small.”

“How would they do that? Get through into the airlock without opening the door I mean.” The man asked as the combat suit closed around him. At that moment howls began to be clearly heard as zombies sighted us within the warehouse.

“Like that.”

A zombie had just squirmed its way through the hole that had been eaten in the warehouse door. It launched its way towards us and was cut down by the guns of the combat suit. The roar of the guns inside the metal warehouse was deafening.

“What are you doing? Get going, out the back before its too late! Don’t go down to the end of the docks, there’s another horde there. Find an airlock and go!”

Another zombie had forced its way in. I leapt towards it before Sam could fire. I knew they would argue with me. It was written all over their faces. But there was no time left for that. The zombie shrieked in glee at finally being able to grasp its prey. Then my hand reached its head and its cries ceased.

The flash of light surprised me. It seemed to light the zombie from within and travel up my arm. It was only visible for a brief second. When I’d drained zombies before, I hadn’t noticed this. The stolen power flooded into me in a rush. My heart rate sped up. I launched myself at the next one.

Four more zombies perished in the same manner before they widened the opening enough to enter two at a time. I learned that it was possible to drain two at once quickly after that. Eventually when two became three I was forced to retreat. Not even the strange madness of the drain could keep me there when they started coming in faster and faster.

I spun, dashing back to pick off the leading zombies one at a time. The two survivors had left at some point. Hopefully they were making their way to the airlock. Or even out and over the hull by now. I hadn’t even used the pistol and knife yet.

Nanite bloat was the farthest thing from my mind as I drained another. It had managed to push itself off a pile of several other zombies, howling its mad song as its claws reached out for me. When I grabbed it in turn, it opened its mouth one last time, to howl or bite I would never know. In a brief flash of light it was silent.

It was time to go. The warehouse was filling up with zombies. Dozens of them were pouring in at a time. This meant they could swarm forward even faster. As I watched, I could see the odd coordination of it.

Outer horde members were close enough to grasp onto the racks or plant their feet on the deck. From that point of contact other zombies pushed off, working together like a single giant organism bent on consuming me. As long as there were enough of the horde to contact two surfaces to push against, they could move fast. And they did.

I had to break contact with the horde somehow. As long as they could see or hear me, they would chase. I left the warehouse behind, pushing off the door frame to break their line of sight. There were zombies still outside the warehouse that had spilled over into the open section in between. Their howls chased me as I fled.

Over the warehouse roofs and under and around the crates and cargo handling equipment, once through an open container and into another warehouse, this one broken open. The howls became fewer and farther apart, but they did not stop. They were everywhere. I leapt over a stack of crates lashed to the deck and drained a zombie as I passed. Its howl cut off abruptly.

The nanite surge was starting to taper off a bit. The massive spike of energy I’d been riding would not last forever. Ahead I could see the main docks stretching out into the distance. My flight had pushed me closer than I’d expected.

I stopped, clinging to the shadows cast by a large gravity pallet. No howls. Somehow, the zombies couldn’t see me. At least, they couldn’t right that very second. The situation could change at any moment.

Then the lights went out all over the warehouse section. In the sudden darkness a zombie howled.