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A World On Fire – A Zombie Blog » Entries tagged with "Cold Storage"

Cold Storage (A Scifi-Zombie Potboiler) — Episode Six

The capsule twisted to the side with a sudden jerk. Reilly dangled off the side of his chair. The shoulder straps chaffed his shoulders and as he tried to right himself, he was jerked in the opposite direction. The floor bucked and for just a second, Reilly thought the capsule’s chute had snapped. “It’s the winds,” Chapel shouted. “We’re falling into a storm.” “Is there anything you can do?” Reilly yelled as the capsule jerked again. “We need power to stabilize and fire the retros,” Chapel yelled back. “If we make it through the winds and the retros don’t fire before we land-” … Read entire article »

Filed under: Books and Short Stories

Cold Storage (A Scifi-Zombie Potboiler) — Episode Five

All of Reilly’s anger and frustration dissipated in but breath as the words ran through his mind without the Russian accent to confuse or distort. We were ejected on purpose. “Borsh, If there was a manually activated ejection, then Grabo’s pod would at least be with us. I can’t imagine her waking up only to eject us onto an alien world so she could starve to death on the journey back home.” “I don’t understand it,” Borsh said. “I’ve rechecked the logs and everything indicates a manual ejection.” … Read entire article »

Filed under: Books and Short Stories

Cold Storage (A Scifi-Zombie Potboiler) — Episode Four

Borsh stopped his typing as he mulled over Reilly’s words. He stared at Chapel, then Reilly. Both men were lost in alien purple sky in front of them as the capsule plunged through the air. Borsh shrugged and returned to his typing. “Why did I wake up last?” Reilly asked with eyes trained on Chapel’s back. He watched the pilot squirm in his chair. He was never good at concealing his feelings. It was both a source of strength and weakness although Reilly couldn’t decided which. Chapel continued to stare out window while Borsh hammered on the keys. Although the cabin was cool, Reilly felt the tips of his ears to start to grow hot. … Read entire article »

Filed under: Books and Short Stories

Cold Storage (A Scifi-Zombie Potboiler) — Episode Three

The three men sat in silence. Each kept their eyes forward, watching the silent orange flame wash over the exterior of the ship. The power flickered on and off, then stabilized. Chapel sneered as he clasped onto the stick with white fingertips. The flames flickered around the nose of the craft, then vanished, revealing a deep purple alien sky before them. The men exhaled in concert, punctuated by with a whispered “shit” from Chapel that sounded more like a prayer of thanks. … Read entire article »

Filed under: Books and Short Stories

Cold Storage (A Scifi-Zombie Potboiler) — Episode Two

The metal floor sent chills through Reilly’s bare feet, but he didn’t even register the sensation. Seeing the orange glow envelope the cabin filled Reilly’s mind with a silent scream. The ship isn’t reentry rated. The ship rattled hard. Reilly grabbed on his pod’s wall as his feet flew out from under him. “Strap yourself in or get the hell back in your pod,” Chapel barked. “I don’t have time to squeegee you off the cockpit.” Chapel wrestled with the controls, trying to keep the ship centered through the holographic brackets that overlayed the cockpit. He wore only his standard issue hibernation pajama pants. The electronic leads dangled from his chest from where he ripped them out of the wall instead of detaching them. Borsh sat next to … Read entire article »

Filed under: Books and Short Stories

Cold Storage (A Scifi-Zombie Potboiler) — Episode One

The air went cold with a loud hiss as Reilly’s serenity froze then shattered like a glass thrown against a cement wall. Hinges squealed metallic pain, billowing cold air into his private space and flooding the silence with the screaming of bells. The small pod door raised, then slid back. The ship’s cabin was bathed in a red light as if serial killer had taken a machete to the rest of the crew. Reilly squinted hard as the cabin blurred in and out of focus. The fog of sleep gripped the sides of his temples, pressing hard – all the time pressing – like fingers of the damned trying to reach into his skull. The alarm made his ears swell. He cupped them … Read entire article »

Filed under: Books and Short Stories