Faint and familiar whispers came from the depths of the shaft, the sound of more than a hundred zombies breathing at once. Just a single zombie howl would wake that horde, and all the ones nearby. I observed the bodies floating in the shaft, just as there had been the first time I’d come this way. Sleeping, I hoped. Or dead. Either way was good for me.

The shadows were no barrier to the space suit’s vision modes as I drifted down slowly, carefully. As I descended, something occurred to me. I stopped near a zombie that I was, by now, certain was asleep.

Its slit nostrils flared slightly, barely detectable even paying attention and from only a few feet away. I waited, checking my HUD for the time.

It turned out I was not as alone as I’d thought.

“You’ve stopped. What’s going on, Z?” Ileane’s voice came over the com, startling me.

“Have you ever seen a zombie sleep?” I could almost hear the frown.

“Doctor Zolnikov, this is hardly the time, don’t you think? The entire team is-”

“It’s not sleeping.”

“-What?”

“I am not certain what is going on, precisely, but this is not any human rhythm of sleep that I am aware of. I have wondered about this before. Two minutes and forty-seven seconds and counting since the last breath. Is this like hibernation, perhaps? Doctor Delveccio?”

“Torpor is the umbrella term that technically covers hypothermia, estivation, and brumation. Some animals actually stop breathing altogether when they enter hibernation. But in all cases I am aware of, it is much more difficult to wake the individual from whatever form of torpor they are engaged in. It could well be analogous. Can you get a temperature reading?”

“Seventy-three degrees. Just above the background temperature. Four minutes sixteen seconds so far.”

“What’s estivation and brumation? And I thought hypothermia was when you got too cold?” Quenton asked.

“Estivation is like hibernation except some animals do it over the hot months instead of the cold. Brumation is what reptiles do- they can’t regulate their body temperature like warm blooded creatures can.”

“How exactly is this important?” Sam asked, sounding impatient.

“It is rather more than scientifically interesting. It may mean that zombies that enter torpor will be slower to wake than the ones that merely enter a sleep-like state and wake quickly. That could mean it would be easier to kill a zombie in torpor without the risk of it waking and howling,” I replied.

“In that case, it’s not much, but I’ll take it,” he replied.

The zombie still hadn’t breathed in again when the group finally convinced me to move on. A large part of me itched to stay and monitor the individual that I had targeted, but in the end Ileane convinced me that the Security software was sufficiently sensitive to do the job for me.

There was still so much I wanted to know about their physiology, how it differed from the baseline humans that they’d been before infection. The gross similarities in form only seemed to hide the greater differences that lurked within.

I resumed my journey, noting once again how tall the decks actually were compared to the living space within. Sam had explained that there was a mass of infrastructure hidden within that extra space. The power substations were in there, as well as the systems for water, air, and sewage.

The Level 5 entrance was blocked by a pair of zombies when I finally reached it.

“What’s the problem, Z? The nearest camera that’s still working is inside the engineering office section corridor. I can’t see you,” Ileane said over the com.

“Two zombies blocking the access. They appear to be hibernating as well, like the other one was.”

“Well crap. Do we call him back, all go through the food service elevator?” That sounded like Vera. Her voice was a lower than the other two ladies, almost alto in pitch.

“We’ve come this far. Is there a way to, I dunno, take them out quietly? If they’re hibernating like the Doc says, maybe it’s okay?”

“I have a question,” Hank said into the silence.

“How come these zombies are hibernating? Or in torpor, or whatever. The others are just sleeping. From what Doc Z told us, they tend to wake up fast when one of them howls. What cause these to do that, while the others don’t?”

“Good question,” Doctor Delveccio said.

“So, are we going forward with the plan. Can we go forward with it? Or are we backing out?” Vera asked.

“I am going to try something,” I said.

“Wait, Z, what are you-”

The vibroknife punctured the zombie’s skull with a soft hiss. It entered easily, like poking a finger into a bowl of water, only slightly thicker. Maybe like poking into a bowl of pudding instead. The zombie jerked in response, but no sound came from it as I twisted the knife and pulled it back out. The second zombie was in the process of inhaling, its eyelids twitching as I stabbed up under its jaw and into its brain as well.

“No howls. It appears that they really do take longer to wake when they are in torpor,” I said.

“That was a rather stupid risk.” Doctor Delveccio scolded.

“But it worked, didn’t it?” Sam said.

The commentary and constant social presence were wearing on me. I realized it as it was happening, before. This scouting mission was as much a chance to get away as it was a necessary part of the plan. That one part of my personal plan was already a failure.

Nothing changed as I pulled the two new corpses away. I’d considered draining them both, but they sometimes made noise in the first moments when I did that. The speed with which the second zombie appeared to inhale made me wonder if the howl could be an almost automatic response, even when hibernating. That could make them less safe to stealthily kill.

I mentioned as much over the com. A part of me wondered if I could use this rather uncomfortable situation to my advantage. I could dictate my observations and see what the group could come up with along the way. Like I’d been as a doctoral candidate.

That thought did not last long. It seemed too much like using people, rather that treating them respectfully. Using my companions as research assistants was probably not a good guy thing to do.

Morality was hard when you had to deal with other people, it turned out.

From there I began to wonder if I wasn’t taking the threat seriously enough. For a long time I’d taken to treating the problem of zombies and the strange combination of nanite and biological infection as a scientific phenomena to be studied. Even after encountering them in person that hadn’t changed much.

I had first taken to using scientific curiosity as a shield to prevent fear and panic from becoming paralyzing. It had been my first instinct, and it worked well, at least as far as I could discern. Just recently, the realization that zombies appeared to use a form of hibernation to conserve energy had completely distracted me for a few moments in a dangerous area.

The irony of my thoughts about being distracted distracting me was not lost on me as I entered the back corridors behind the engineering offices. We had mapped out the primary route I could take along with a few alternates. I wouldn’t be following the path that I had first taken.

Before leaving my lab, and even for a time afterward I had been thinking on the strange habits of zombie behavior. They tended to gather and nest near places that they could find food and water, but they wandered often. These wanderings were not random, though.

They would appear around shopping malls and hospitals, long after all living humans had been chased away. I had seen one sports arena open to the sky packed with zombies once before in my examinations of Earth’s surface. The habs and the docks here both held large numbers, but so did the main engineering level.

The habs could be explained by habit carried over from their former lives, but the numbers on the docks and at main engineering argued against that. My current running theory was that they returned to the places they had last seen prey.

Thus I was drifting silently through unfamiliar corridors, following the map that I’d downloaded to my HUD. The floating trash and debris that were as clear an indication as a tracks and spore to a hunter by now was thin in the corridors that I had chosen.

There were relatively few cameras still operating on Level 5. This area of the map had two of them.

“Nothing moving or living in the next corridor, Z. The one after that is dark to me,” Ileane said softly over the com.

That was not an absolute guarantee that there were no zombies. But it was a good indication, considered with all the other factors.

I reached the dark area without encountering anything of note other than one of the engineering offices looking like it had been broken into. Whatever had occurred in there hadn’t left much in the way of a mess though.

Upon glancing in as I floated by, it appeared not to be an office at all. Nanosteel and armor glass blocked off the back of the room, but the reinforced access hatch stood open. Row upon row of deep shelves stretched deep into the station. I could not see what the shelves contained from where I was, though.

“Secure storage for some of the more expensive and/or dangerous items that engineering controls,” Sam said after I asked him. “Could have some tools and supplies we could use.”

“To bring the substations back online?” Doctor Delveccio asked. Sam hesitated long enough for her to grow suspicious.

“Or is it simply that they have some tools and gadgets in there that you want to play with,” she finished with a growl. “We need to stay focused here. Work first, play later.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

I reached the turn where the Ileane’s camera view ended, braking so I drifted slowly around the corner like any other piece of floating debris. The idea was that the human eye is drawn to movement, and sharp, fast movements especially. Zombies had human eyes, as far as I could tell. If there was a zombie lurking I didn’t want to startle it if possible.

After making the corner I found out that all my caution was completely unnecessary.

The first thing I noticed was the camera blister was completely missing. A slagged puddle was frozen in the spot where it had been. Further along the bulkhead and the ceiling were more laser cuts. Some neat and clean. Others showed where the metal had run like wax, the beam lingering too long in one spot or crossing an already hot section.

Interior bulkheads had completely collapsed in places, transforming the corridor into an obstacle course. Sharp edged shards were frozen here and there, wherever they’d found a surface to stick to as they cooled.

This could be a problem.

“Sam, just how cut and puncture resistant are these space suits?”

“They’re pretty tough. Zombie claws won’t be getting through very easy, not unless they do that weird black cutting thing they do. Other than the one that cut my suit’s arm off, they don’t seem to be able to do it quick, though. You should be okay as long as you don’t let the horde dogpile you.”

“It is not the zombies that I am concerned with at the moment. I am in the dark corridor where the camera doesn’t show. Someone was using a heavy laser cutter inside the station and sliced through a lot of interior bulkheads. There are metal shards here that look rather sharp.”

“Rather sharp? You can make edges with a laser cutter, but they tend to be rather rough. Probably not good to snag the suit on though, especially the joints. Can you go around?” Vera said.

I looked at the devastation, trying to estimate where it ended. The offices here were now a part of the corridor. The bulkheads that formed the back walls to my right looked to be missing entirely, either sliced to scrap or scattered somehow.

According to the map on my HUD, the next closest corridor that should be free of damage would be the main corridor. The same one I’d fled down the day I left the Lab section.

“Not without crossing the main corridor.”

“It’s up to you, Z. There’s risk either way, and you’re the man on the spot,” Doctor Delveccio said.

“I will try to find a path through the destroyed section then. The longer I can put off alerting the horde, the better positioned you will be when you take the food service elevator down.”

“Copy that. Good luck,” she replied.

With the destruction worse towards the main corridor, I chose to work my way around the left side, closer to the outer hull. It took some careful maneuvering and shifting a few of the larger pieces, but I managed to find an intact wall with a bit of clear space to follow.

From my new vantage point I could now see the bodies. Rather, the body parts. Zombie body parts. Those were easy to recognize for what they were now, but these were old. Desiccated, even beyond the process that made them zombies.

The skin was dry and waxy, almost paper-like, stretched over the dried remains. Something about the zombification process seemed to be antithetical to the normal progression of decay. Human bodies broke down, rotting and being consumed by everything from bacteria to insects to small animals in the wild.

Zombie bodies just stopped moving around. They didn’t rot. These body parts were easily recognizable, even seven years gone.

I was assuming seven years. Hoping, in a way for it. The thought that there had been another survivor during the time I’d hidden in my lab, safe and sound while others struggled for survival was not a pleasant one. Even though I knew on some level it had to be true, at least to an extent.

My only difficulties with my chosen path were navigating around the interior bulkheads that had been cut down as the unknown laser wielder made his way along. From the angle of the cuts and the way the bulkheads had fallen, it appeared that I was following the same path.

As I went, the body parts multiplied rapidly. Whoever it was had slaughtered dozens of zombies, at least. My own paltry body count was beginning to look rather puny in comparison.

“I believe that our methods in eliminating the zombie threat may need to be reassessed. Judging by the number of cut up corpses and the density of body parts I am seeing, the effectiveness of the laser cutter appears to be a serious oversight on my part.”

By my rough count, the number of zombie heads was now significantly into the triple digits. And still counting.

“The downside is, you’ll be cutting big holes in your space station if you do and destroying all manner of things that might be critical to the continuing good function of said space station,” Sam replied.

“That, and you could end up putting holes in the inner hull. Laser cutters are not precision instruments in the hands of novices. It’s far too easy to overheat the metal, slice too far or too deep. You have to calibrate the intensity of the beam on the fly as you make your cut. It is not a simple skill to master,” Vera added.

“Have you mastered it?” Hank asked curiously.

“No. But Magnus has,” she replied.

This did not surprise me. The old man had struck me as having plenty of hidden depths. Even with traveling with the crew of the Maggie’s Pride for nearly a week together, I still knew barely more about the man than I’d learned over the course of that first meal together.

The others continued to discuss things and I continued to make my way further along the clear section of the deck. Finally I reached a spot where the cuts ahead stopped.

Ahead of me was a normal, unmarred bulkhead like any other on the station. Nearby was what I recognized as a heavy laser cutter/welder with a large power pack nearby. The status indicator showed 3%. Either the unknown cutter had run the power supply down to the wire or the pack had drained somewhat over the intervening years.

I knew which one I would wager on.

On the deck was a hatch to the maintenance tunnel network. It was secured somehow from the other side when I tried it.

“Hrm.”

“What is it, Z? Stuck again?”

“No. I believe that the fellow that cut his way through the zombies escaped into the maintenance tunnels. The laser cutter is here, charge nearly depleted, and the hatch to the tunnels is locked from the other side.”

“Well that is interesting. Do you think he managed to escape the station before it all fell apart?”

“Unlikely,” I said in reply to Ileane’s question.

“There were a few that managed to make it out after the zombies appeared on Walker beyond the initial panic flight. The escape pods were not an option, but many people would have gone there first. After that, there are only two groups that I know of that escaped after the initial shelter in place order came down. The top managers and CEO through the hidden dock. And the ones that escaped on the ore sleds.”

“When we get back into contact with the wider system, I’d really like to know what happened to those people- the refugees and the bastards that fled while they let their Security forces die behind them. And now that you’ve told us about the escape pods-”

I’d spoken of my suspicions about the criminal lack of even basic maintenance on the escape pods that amounted to outright sabotage to the group on the way back to Walker. It would not have been proper to leave them ignorant of all that I could tell them regarding what they would potentially be walking into.

“Yes. I would very much like to know where the ones that fled the hidden dock went, as well,” I said. The ghosts of Walker could not cry out their anger and accusation from beyond the grave alone.

But I could do so in their stead. And I would, given the opportunity to do so.

I noted that my heart rate had accelerated at some point. I began breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth slowly to return it to a proper rhythm. Meditation exercises were once a daily part of my routine. Perhaps it was time to begin those again.

A doorframe survived the slices well enough for me to go through it. It took removing the zombie bodies that plugged the hold, first, though. Fortunately they did not fall apart as soon as I touched them, otherwise would have had to swim through their remains. Doing so annoyed me, so I was pleased to avoid the majority of that this time.

Beyond the doorway and to my left the corridor was mostly clear. A few drifting bits of trash and body parts, but nothing like the section of engineering that I’d just left. Moments later I returned to the corridor that was just outside the cafeteria.

The hatch that had been in standby mode when I had first exited the cafeteria, shutting it behind me to slow the horde, was now missing. I could not see into the cafeteria through the opening yet.

“I am almost in position. The cafeteria is open, neither hatch present at this time.”

“Roger that. We are in position at the service elevator, final checks made,” Sam replied, this time all business.

“The horde in the cafeteria is going to be above you and towards the stalls as you enter, Z. We’re ready for you to alert the horde once you cross the cafeteria.”

I had been deliberately vague on my plan to draw the horde away from the food service area so Sam and the others could assault them from the flanks. They had not questioned my methods close enough to realize what I was about to do.

“You should probably start the elevator now,” I said. Then I armed one of the grenades and swung around into the cafeteria, slamming the suit jets to full.

The grenade exploded within the horde as I’d barely crossed ten feet into the cafeteria. Howls chased me as I rocketed across the deck, bare inches from the metal.

As I suspected, there was a fast implant zombie with the horde.