Amish Vampires in Space (44 page)

She tried to call medical. No luck there either. She then dialed her replacement up front. See if anything had come in on the scraddle. No response from Candle. It was as if the entire ship had been furloughed.

Deserted.

She shivered, wished for a jacket. Her thoughts drifted to the captain. About what he must think of her. Christians were such a minority now. Oh, sure, there were whole worlds that ascribed to some form of Christian thought—like Alabaster had, in some ways—but those were few and far between. And even the modern ones like Freehaven seemed to get a little less friendly, a little more secular, every time she visited.

Better to be on a Guild shipping vessel than to watch a civilization slowly crumble. Slowly lose its way. Perhaps the Amish had something there. Even with their archaic dress and unwritten rules, at least they kept each other honest. Held on to what was important. Relationships. Most churches didn’t do that. Even most friends and families.

She noticed a shadow on the slideway tube. As the figure grew closer, she recognized it. Dressed in heavy loader’s pants and Guild t-shirt. She raised an eyebrow.

He was surprised too. Almost looked embarrassed. He bobbed his head. Gave a little wave as he stepped off the slide onto the landing.

“Greels,” she said. “What are you doing over here?”

He shrugged. “I was just—” He glanced in the direction that the blue slideway was traveling. Toward the back of the ship. The larger bays. “Things are strange now. I felt like moving around.”

She nodded. “Sometimes I ride the slides when I’m nervous too.” She forced a smile. “Reminds me of childhood.”

Greels grunted. “Yeah, it is something like that. I have places I like to go to think.”

She brought her hands behind her back. Clasped them together. “Me too.” She squinted. “Though I’d think you’d want to stay far away from the bays when we’re not loading…”

His face flushed. Another shrug. “Like I said, I like to travel.”

There was something decidedly lecherous about Greels, Singer knew, and typically she wouldn’t want to be alone with him. But in this instance, she found he didn’t bother her too much. He was interesting company, at least. Not an answer to prayer, but interesting.

“What are
you
doing here?” he asked.

“Waiting for Jebediah,” she said. “The Amish.”

Greels snorted. “More trouble…” He took a hesitant step toward blue. Stopped. “Knew we shouldn’t have brought them on this ship.”

Singer felt a flash of anger. Pushed it down. “You think we should’ve left them to die, then?”

Greels waved a hand. Stepped toward the other slide, then back her way again. “Look at what’s happened since they arrived! All sorts of crazy.”

She just watched him. “So we should’ve left them.”

“Blamed right, should’ve left them. That’s what they’re all about, right? Being left alone?” He was pacing nervously now. Animated. “You weren’t attacked. You don’t know.”

She crossed her arm. “But
Foley
attacked you.”

“Yeah, but he was with them. On the planet. It all went bad after that. They brought something with them. Some sort of nutso.”

“Did they?” Singer looked at the floor. She wished she knew. Darly said it was impossible that it was a pathogen. Ship’s filters should’ve detected it. And her initial physicals. She shook her head. “I don’t think they did. Perhaps we did it to them. Exposed them to something new.”

Greels paused. Brought a hand to his chin. Scratched hard. Swatted the air. “Bah, they’re just crazy. From all their rules. And the wool. Squeezed their hats on too tight.”

Singer rolled her eyes. Looked at the screen of the nearby wall-mounted com unit. Thought of her handheld unit. Would a call to the captain be out of place?

“Where are you taking them?” Greels asked. “Because if you need more dwellings put up…” His hands found his pants pockets. “Well, I got union rules to deal with. Already worked the loaders about twice what they’re supposed to be.”

Singer nodded. “There’s not that many. And hopefully this is only temporary.”

Greels studied her. “So, where?”

She brought up her com and studied the ship map. “For now, they’re going to the cafeteria near Bay 15, but I noticed… You know, we have bit a space in 16 yet. If this goes long, we could—”

Greels face whitened. “Sixteen?”

She shrugged. “I’m just thinking long term. If—”

“Mess up another of my bays with animals and folks who rarely wash? No. Fifteen, sixteen, no.”

“I didn’t know you felt so strongly.” She heard a commotion to her right. She looked in that direction down the cross slideway. There was a group of people there, dressed primarily in black and white. “Ah, the Amish.”

They were running.

“What are those fools doing now?” Greels asked.

She should’ve made a map.

Sarah walked steadily down another grey hallway. The markings on the wall told her nothing. Just arrows and words that gave only room numbers. Nothing about a bay, though. Shouldn’t every sign be in reference to some bay? They had certainly seemed large enough on the map. But the rooms she was encountering now were all very small. Inside were things made of metal, the use of which she couldn’t begin to fathom. All empty of people.

The ship seemed particularly empty. It was as if someone had called a meeting somewhere. Like one of their biweekly services. How she missed those now. Just like everything on Alabaster.

She reached a place where two halls met. The corner to her right had a large upward-pointing arrow and the word “slideway” on it in yellow letters. She knew she had to ride one of those at some point. Given that the hallways weren’t helping, maybe that was the way to go? She followed the arrow to some stairs, and from there found a slideway entrance. The last time she’d ridden on one, she hadn’t been alone. It had felt a bit unstable then…

She watched the slide floor closely as she neared it. She noticed the handrail next to it, and focused on it. She put her hand out and touched the rail, felt it slide slowly past her fingers. She remembered being told to grab on slowly. She checked her feet, closed on the rail, and with a start and a relieved smile, began her journey down the slide.

A few minutes later she became nervous that she’d gone too far. She saw signs for even numbered bays as different stops went by, but they appeared to be diminishing—getting closer to zero—not increasing. And she was on eight now. She decided to stop at the next stop. Find a way to cross the ship. Ride back the way she’d come.

At the next stop she managed to make it off. Again, she felt lonely. The stop was empty. Fairly well lit, but nobody around. She felt a strong wave of pain, put out a hand for the wall. Rested as the pain passed. Shook her head. She noticed a mounted screen—similar to the desk, but vertical. Probably used for a similar purpose? Maybe it had a map on it? She walked over and placed a hand on it. It flashed to life. The look was similar but different enough to make her unsure. She did manage to find the map image again, though. Her current X was nowhere near where she wanted to be. She’d gone exactly the wrong way. She let out a hiss of exasperation. Wished again that Jebediah was with her.

Of course, she couldn’t get herself into too much trouble, could she? No matter what she did, she’d still be on the ship. Somewhere.

She noticed something on the map then. Another familiar symbol. It gave her a glimmer of hope. She looked at the place where she was and the place where the symbol was. If she was reading it right, it was just down these stairs and to the left a little ways. She could make that, she thought.

It wasn’t her first choice, but there ought to be someone there who could help.

• • •

The two security guards led them from one slide to another. Their group remained silent, reserved.

When they reformed their line again, Jebediah was still in the front, but Samuel and Mark were a good ways behind. At one point, he thought he saw them praying together quietly. He respected them for that. Even bowed his own head for a quick prayer. He asked for comfort for Sarah and the others onboard. And for some restoration. And protection. But mostly he asked for wisdom in knowing what to do. How best to perform the Lord’s will.

But if he had lost his eternal salvation by losing his fellowship with his community, was God even listening?

Jebediah tried to engage the male guard in conversation again, but it was of little use. The guard acted as if there was somewhere else he should be. As if the idea of escorting Amishers around a ship made no sense. And normally Jeb would agree with him. The guard hadn’t seen what they’d seen, though.

Overhead, beyond the transparent tube, he could see the ship’s infrastructure. It was made up of large, impossibly long beams. A latticework of them. He shook his head. Such an accomplishment. It would doubtless withstand rust forever.

He heard two chirps. One from the guard’s waist near him, and one—he guessed—from the wrist of the guard near the end of the line. The nearest guard brought his communication device up where he could see it. The voice Jeb heard was that of the female guard, though.

“Unit three here.”

The next voice was female too but sounded decidedly nervous. “Keep your head clear,” the caller said. Then the voice cut out completely.

There was a pause. The male guard stared at his device.

“Come again, dispatch?” the female said.

There was a garble of static. Then the words
lost
,
two
, and
bull
.

Jebediah looked toward the rear of the line. He had to lean so he could see the face of the female guard. She looked confused. “Say again?” she said.

No response. Just more static. The female guard started moving in his direction, excusing herself up through the line of Amishers. She stopped between Jeb and the other guard. She blew a lock of hair away from her face. Her eyes were wide. “Did you hear that?” she asked.

The male guard grunted. Nodded. “What was it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She tried her communicator again. She was close enough that Jeb could see the screen. It was completely black. Then it flashed, and the image of a dark-skinned female appeared. “Unit Three! They’re coming your way!” The image broke up, rolled, and finally froze.

“What is going on?” the male guard said. “Never seen that before.”

The female looked back down the line of Amishers, and then in front of them. “What is coming?” she said. “What?” She motioned toward the line, raised her gun. “I’ll be back there.”

The male brought his gun up, as well. “No,” he said. “I’ll go.” And he started pushing roughly through the line.

There was an indiscernible noise. A roar. A strange mix of sounds coming from behind. Someone back there yelped. Samuel’s voice said “Dear Lord.” Then there were lots of shouts. Screams. The group started to push toward them, and Jeb and the guards started moving ahead too. The pace increased until it was nearly a jog.

Jeb really wanted to look, though. To see what they were up against. So he let others pass him on both sides, drifting to the back of the line with the two guards. Two women and a young boy scurried past him, and then—still jogging—he glanced back. His mouth gaped with surprise.

It was like the contents of Noah’s legendary ship enraged and set loose. They came three and four across. Cows and horses and pigs. And though Jeb’s first instinct was to stop and try to halt the flow, there was something very wrong about these animals’ behavior. Regardless of the breed or kind, they were sprinting together as one. Their eyes were reddened and unblinking. Their goal obvious.

The guards started to fire.
Pling! Pling!
Blue balls of energy hit the lead animals. They bleated and mooed, lurched and fell, but their brethren only stepped on or over them. The guards fired again and again. A horse and a pig were hit this time, but still the tide of animals came. The fallen were trampled into the slideway floor, becoming rugs of white, brown, and red. And the rest kept coming.

Jebediah stumbled against the slide rail, pushed away, looked ahead, and found a spot to jog in. It was a bit disconcerting added to the slide’s own motion, but it was necessary and it allowed him to move faster. He could see a lighted area farther on. Another, larger, slideway stop. Soon the head of the group would reach it. From there, who knew?

More shots from behind. Then a shout. Jeb hazarded a look back, and winced as the female guard was hit by a leaping goat. It gave a lone bray of victory and bit into the guard’s neck. She screamed. The male guard yelled and fired rapidly. The goat was hit—many targets were hit—but it wasn’t enough. The animals barely slowed.

The remaining guard paused, clearly trying to decide what to do for his companion. How best to help. A white blur—a rabbit?—struck the side of his face. A line of blood formed there. The guard felt his cheek, swore. Then a hog sprang from the crowd, knocking the guard to the ground.

Jebediah looked away, looked forward. Tried not to think about what he’d just seen. There were other stragglers—children and heavier women—who were behind him yet. He urged them ahead. They had maybe twenty feet of running room between them and the stampede. It wouldn’t be enough.