I’d been prepared to introduce this piece with the phrase “Matthew Gurney, Perpetual Bridesmaid,” since he’d finished second in last year’s contest. Indeed, the top three or four this year, though very different stories stylistically and thematically speaking, were practically interchangeable insofar as quality is concerned. Had I made the final determination on another day (or even, admittedly, in another mood), the third- or second-place finisher might well have displaced the below tale for the top spot.

Still, Matt gets the nod: His flair is impressive in one so young. Confidentially, the little bastard makes me sick.

If you like a good author in peak form, however, my nausea is your euphoria. Enjoy.

“King of the Dead”

By Matthew Gurney

“He shoots… he scores!”

Ensign Brett King turned sharply on his wheeled skates and glided backwards, taunting his two companions. “Devils win again!”

Breathing hard, King came to an easy stop. Retrieving a canteen from his belt, he rested his hockey stick against the corridor wall and drank. Water dripped down onto his red jersey, but neither of his competition in the just concluded race around the deck cared. They were too busy drinking from their own canteens and catching their breath.

“You’ve been doing this a lot longer than we have,” one of them pointed out in a thick accent, both hands on his stick and leaning on it as he cooled off.

King grinned broadly. “Oh, come on. I thought Russians were good at forced marches. I mean, look at your jersey. It actually says, Moscow Scorched Earth on it.”

The third man chuckled. “I could point out that yours say Devils, but how could anything from New Jersey be anything less than evil?”

King snorted. “Listen up, Canuck. Your Maple Leafs haven’t won a Cup since…what? The 22nd Century? The only time the Cup is in Toronto is when they’re cleaning it at the Hall of Fame.”

The Canadian winced, but didn’t comment. King laughed again, and started blading gently down the corridor. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m just amazed that a starship with a crew of barely over a hundred had even one additional hockey fan aboard.

“Even if both Toronto and Moscow couldn’t win a series if…”

“Attention all hands.”

The three men braked and listened intently, though they all knew what Benteen was going to say.

“We have finished collating all useful information as to our spatial-temporal position. Sorry, gang - no dice. We’ll try again in ten minutes. That, of course, means that this is your red alert notification.”

“Until next time, Snow Men,” King said over his shoulder, striding faster down the corridor to where he’d left his boots. Changing quickly into them and out of his roller blades, he jogged to the nearest turbolift and rode to the bridge.

Arriving there moments later, he found Benteen the only senior officer present. He immediately went to the nearest equipment locker, where he stowed his roller blades and acquired two phasers, a hand unit for his belt and a rifle to hold. Taking a position at the back of the bridge, he got comfortable and waited for the senior staff to arrive.

He didn’t have long to wait. The doors to the Ready Room swooshed open and a cluster of officers strode onto the bridge. At first, none of them noticed his rather informal attire, but his bright red jersey soon caught T’Laris’ eye.

“You’re out of uniform, Ensign,” she commented as she took her seat.

“Only if you’re referring to my Starfleet uniform, ma’am,” he responded crisply.

He then patiently waited for her to verbally upbraid him.

It was the captain who spoke next, however. “If all goes according to plan, we’ll be back to normal alert status seconds after the displacement, and you can change back into your Starfleet uniform then, Ensign. Unless you want two minutes for being a smart ass.”

“I’d never presume to argue with the ref…Captain,” King said evenly.

Ignoring him, Mantovanni took the centre seat. “Status, please,” he said simply.

Sera and Admiral T’Kara, hovering over one of the science stations, turned to face the captain as one. “The device is ready, Captain,” the admiral answered smoothly.

Nodding, Mantovanni looked next to Benteen at OPS.

“All engines standing by at full power, shields and weapons activated, and all battle stations manned as best we’re able, sir. All unoccupied decks are powered down and sealed. All still functioning departments show green. Security personnel have been dispersed to key locations throughout the ship.”

Yeah, since all five of us should really be all it takes to repel a hostile boarding party.

“Parihn, thrusters to station keeping. Sera, Admiral…when you’re ready.”

Let this be it, King prayed silently as Sera said, “Engaging…now.”

For the briefest of moments, the viewscreen blanked out into nothingness. Before King could see what replaced the void, however, he was occupied simply with remaining standing. He caught a bulkhead and was able to steady himself.

Parihn, shouting over the sound of the thrusters roaring with effort, reported, “We’re in a gravity well, standby, I’m easing us out!” A few seconds later, as the sound of the firing thrusters diminished, she reported, “We’re clear, easing into a standard orbit.”

“Of what?” T’Laris asked, stepping up to the OPS console to peer over Benteen’s shoulder.

“Sensors are reinitializing now, I don’t have any readings beyond our own shield perimeter.”

“Same with the nav-array, total reset,” Parihn added.

King looked around the bridge. Everyone he saw, including the captain, was totally focused on one console or another. King, having nothing to do other than stand there with a rifle, naturally looked to the viewscreen. Because of that, he saw it first.

“Captain! Look!”

Mantovanni’s head swung around in alarm, and King saw even his usually stoic face briefly relax as he, too, saw what was being projected onto the screen.

Clearly recognizable beneath the wispy white clouds was the North American eastern coastline.

“Hail Starfleet,” Mantovanni said in a hushed whisper, coming out of his command chair to stand next to T’Laris behind Parihn.

“No response,” Tertius said from Tactical.

Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.

“I…I don’t understand,” Benteen said. “It’s Earth. Look, there’s Newfoundland…the Great Lakes…Florida and Cuba…we’re home.”

For a brief moment, silence reigned on the bridge. The relative calm was quickly disrupted, however, by an urgent beeping from Parihn’s console.

“Oh, what the Hell,” Parihn cursed. “Captain, according to the nav-computer, we’re both exactly where we appear to be and totally lost, at the same time.” Mantovanni didn’t have to ask for clarification, Parihn knew enough to simply go ahead with her report.

Projecting her findings onto the main screen, she continued. “Short range scanners are still collating data, but from what it’s brought back so far, we’re in the Sol System. That is Earth below us. Luna, Venus, Mars…they’re all showing clearly. But when I switch to long range sensors, things get complicated.

“Nothing is where it’s supposed to be.

“If this is Earth, I should be showing Alpha Centauri clearly, it’s only four light-years away. But…I’m not. I am, however, showing a dwarf star barely three light-years from us. There aren’t supposed to be any there!”

Benteen had been pouring over the results herself. “She’s right, Captain. All nine planets in the Sol System are where they’re supposed to be, so is the Oort Cloud, but…beyond that…nothing is the same. The navigational array is trying to lock onto familiar star formations. If this was Earth, it would have found Vulcan, Andorra, even Rigel by now.”

Mantovanni gently stroked his beard. “So, the planet below us is both Earth and not Earth?”

Both Parihn and Benteen shrugged helplessly, and T’Laris asked, “How is such a thing possible?”

Mantovanni, significantly, didn’t answer, glancing instead to Admiral T’Kara, whom after a brief hesitation, said, “There are…precedents…for such an occurrence.”

T’Laris, being Romulan, knew all about military secrets, and simply said, “Indeed.”

“Captain,” Tertius said slowly, “There are no Federation or Starfleet satellites of any kind in orbit, but there are numerous artificial satellites of a more primitive design. Solar powered, mostly, several fission reactors…they seem to generally be for intra-planetary electromagnetic communications or military surveillance. None are currently transmitting anything other than test patterns. There is also a primitive space station…seemingly abandoned. It matches with our computer records of the International Space Station, which is recorded to have been de-orbited early in the 22^nd Century.”

“Something else, Captain,” Sera said from the science console. “We have confirmed that we are not in the Milky Way galaxy, but that this system is identical to Sol. The only thing that seems to be missing, however, is humanity. I’m detecting what might be sporadic life signs on the surface, but the level of development of the planet’s surface seems to suggest a population of billions. At this range, that would be coming through clearly.”

The bridge seemed to chill by several degrees.

The captain clasped his hands behind his back and regarded the viewscreen. “Sera,” he said quietly, “how long until we can make another jump? This isn’t quite home enough.”

The half-Vulcan checked her console. “Fifteen hours, approximately, Captain. I’ll know more specifically once all diagnostics are complete.”

Mantovanni nodded. “In the meantime, we’ll investigate what happened here. I don’t suppose we have any experts on Earth history aboard?”

Benteen shook her head. “None of the historical department was aboard when we were displaced.”

Speaking for the first time in several minutes, King offered, “I minored in Earth history at the Academy, sir. I’m not an expert, but I know more than most would.”

“Form a team, then. Take representatives from the science department. Try to discover what happened. You’ve got fifteen hours.”

“Permission to go by shuttle, Captain?” King asked. “It will be more useful for aerial reconnaissance.” He grinned. “You never know when it’ll come in handy to have a window to look out of.”

“Go,” Mantovanni agreed.

“Re-entry phase complete,” King reported automatically, dropping the shuttle into the lower atmosphere. “I’m going to head for New York City.”

“Why there, Ensign?” he heard Benteen ask over the open commline.

“I grew up just across the river in Jersey,” he replied. “I know the city well. Besides, New York was one of the most important cities in the world during the late industrial era. If there’s any place to find out a clue to what happened to all the people, it’s here.” The clouds in front of the main viewport cleared, and the skyline came into view ahead.

“I have a visual on Manhattan Island,” he reported. He looked intently out the window. “My first impression is that things look…well…about how they should. I’m going down to one kilometer and heading for the southern part of the island.”

A cute redhead, one of the few nurses that had been aboard Liberty when she was displaced. Laura Emassi, her name was, King thought, leaned over his shoulder and looked out at the city. Not only was she a nurse and therefore useful to the Away Team, but she was also a New York native.

“Take us around the West side of the Island, but the Humber River,” she told him. “That should tell us pretty quickly where we are in history, roughly.”

“Agreed,” he said, glancing up at her and smiling winningly. To his disappointment, however, she was focused exclusively on the skyline. With a shrug, he returned to looking out the window. “There’s the Statue of Liberty,” he said, pointing at the great green lady.

“And there’s where the World Trade Center should have been,” she replied. “Which puts us past late 2001.”

“Pardon me, Nurse?” Benteen said.

“The Terror War,” King clarified. “It started on September 11^th, 2001, with an air attack on New York City. Several prominent buildings were destroyed. If they were still here, we’d be seeing them by now. That’s also consistent with the launch date of the International Space Station, Commander,” he added. “I have a few ideas about confirming our time frame more precisely, but that’ll take another fly past.”

“Standing by.”

Turning over Manhattan Island, King brought the shuttle eastwards, past the Empire State Building, which, to his dismay, showed fire damage on some of the upper floors. More than anything else, that drove home to him that this was not the Earth he knew.

“I’m approaching the Peace Park,” he reported. “If I remember my history, and I do, in case you’re wondering, it only became that after what was originally on the land was destroyed towards the end of the Terror War.”

Dropping down low over the East River, King stared down at the shoreline until he saw what he was looking for. “King here,” he said. “I see it – the United Nations Headquarters. It was destroyed in 2015, so that leaves us with a roughly 14 year window where…something…happened here that didn’t happen on our Earth.”

“T’Laris. Could this war you speak of have depopulated the planet?”

“I doubt it, sir,” King said, swooping low over the island again. “As we experienced it, the Terror War was mostly fought with conventional weapons, although sometimes used in unconventional ways. There were some instances of bio-terrorism, but…nothing that could have depopulated the entire Earth. At this point in our history, only nuclear weapons could have come even close to accomplishing that, and that would have left this city in particular in ruins. He squinted out at the towering buildings and reported, “From what I can tell, the city is mostly intact. I can see some indications of fires going out of control, but with no one to fight them, that would be expected. You’ll be able to tell from orbit if there are any other cities that have been destroyed, but New York itself looks…pretty good.”

King thought for a moment. “Sir, I have a suggestion.”

Speaking for the first time that King could hear, Mantovanni said, “Go ahead, Brett.”

“I’m not detecting any human life signs, sir, or anything else that would suggest danger. I’d like to land and look around the city on foot. There’s only so much I can learn from several thousand meters above the street.”

“Permission granted. But be careful, Ensign. I want full environmental scans before anyone leaves the shuttle.”

“Aye, Captain,” King agreed. “Also, sir, in the early 21^st Century, Earth was still using light-speed communications that would propagate out of Sol and into deep space. Liberty could catch up with those signals in a matter of hours and listen in to the news broadcasts ‘as they happened.’”

“We’re not leaving orbit while you’re down there, but we’ll send a probe. Where do you plan on landing?”

King grinned. “Come on, Captain, where do sailors always go when they get to New York?”

There was a pause. “Forget I asked,” Mantovanni said. “Liberty out.”

Brett glanced over at Emassi, who this time, returned his smile.

“Times Square, here we come!”

“Well…this isn’t what I was expecting.”

“My, God,” Emassi said as she came up beside him, tricorder out and scanning. “What the hell happened?”

Licking his lips, King looked around. Automobiles were smashed and burnt, sometimes overturned. A city bus had driven into the lobby of what once would have been an upscale hotel. Several green armoured vehicles, marked as belonging to the United States Army, were positioned around the area, silently guarding the scene of silent mayhem.

And then there were the bodies.

Dozens of them lay all around. Most of them were in advanced states of decomposition, largely skeletal. All wore tattered, fading clothing. In one particularly horrible instance, a skeleton wearing what King recognized was a police uniform was hung by the neck from a lamppost.

“Whatever it is…I…I honestly have no idea,” King replied.

His words, spoken quietly, echoed among the urban canyon of Times Square. Every time King had visited it while growing up, and since as an adult seeking a good time, it had been packed with humanoids, all busily going about their business or pleasure, while bright lights flashed and music filled the air.

Now, it was silent, dark, and littered with debris.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Stepping off the shuttle ramp, King gingerly placed his foot on the street, taking pains to avoid the human remains that covered the ground. His rifle was charged, but on safety and slung over his shoulder. He couldn’t see a threat to him or his team. Whatever had happened had happened long ago.

“See if you can figure out how long ago all this happened,” he ordered her. He turned then to the remaining three members of his team. To the two security non-coms he said, “Split up and check the next few main streets, confirm that it’s generally like this.”

He turned next to Ensign T’Luv, a young, pretty Vulcan science officer. “Primitive, though remarkably useful, computers were abundant in this era. See if you can find one and download its contents, it might help us to determine what the hell happened.”

“What should I look for?” she asked, already scanning with her tricorder.

King thought for a moment. “There was a global information network that most computers could access. It was used primarily for entertainment, but there was also a lot of information stored on it. Perhaps you can find news reports, government bulletins, anything of that sort, archived on the local memory disks. Whatever happened here didn’t happen suddenly.” He gestured to the Army vehicles. “They knew something terrible was happening. They just didn’t seem able to stop it.”

As the Vulcan moved off to try and locate a computer, Emassi walked over to King and handed him her tricorder. “I’ve scanned five bodies,” she reported. “All were killed by head trauma. More specifically, a projectile at close range. Given the era, I’m assuming a firearm, but I don’t know much about weaponry.”

King looked over the results. “Four of the five entry wounds have diameters of nine millimetres. That was a standard size for a pistol bullet.” At her surprised expression, he said, “Come on, I’m in security…weapons are my business.” Handing back the tricorder, he asked, “Anything else?”

“I’d say it happened a year ago. Plus or minus a few months, perhaps, but roughly a year. We could take some of the bodies back to Liberty for an autopsy, but that’s all I can do with a tricorder.”

“Fair enough,” King said. “I sent the security troops east and west, how about we head north, take a stroll up Broadway?”

Setting out together, they gingerly stepped over bodies and debris. Times Square seemed to have been a battle ground during the last days of this Earth, and the surrounding avenues, while still deserted and chaotic, were not nearly so gory. “Hey, what’s that?” Emassi asked, pointing to a series of notices attached to the side of a building.

Going over to them, King read the faded lettering. “’Evacuation Notice.’ ‘Quarantine Order.’ ‘Dawn to Dusk Curfew.’ ‘Declaration of Martial Law in the Continental United States.’ Jesus Christ, what the hell happened here?”

Emassi said softly, “A plague, perhaps? Some sort of pandemic could explain this.”

“Our bio-scans didn’t show anything usual, we wouldn’t have gotten out of the shuttle, otherwise,” King said. He looked around. “What we need is a newspaper. They were still literally printed on paper then, so it could be hard to find one amongst all this trash.” The streets were covered with litter, blowing gently in the cool breeze.

“Where would they be sold?” Emassi asked.

“Almost anywhere,” King replied. A store across the street was marked as Convenience, and he quickly crossed to that side. A body lay slumped in the doorway, which he stepped over. He tried to open the door, but it was locked. Taking his rifle, he smashed in the glass pane and stepped inside.

The store had already been looted and vandalized, but the magazine section had been left behind. Issues covered the floor, where they lay after their shelf had been knocked over. Stooping down, he began to look over the brittle pages. “Nothing here,” he said, “but in a major emergency, the distribution of these could have been disrupted. They seem to mainly be entertainment based, anyway.”

“What about this,” Emassi said, handing him a torn page of a newspaper. The newsprint was dry and threatened to come apart in his hands, but he was still able to read the words.

“Continued from A1,” he began to read, “With most Army divisions already deployed on the War on Terror, some Pentagon officials have expressed concern at the ability of the National Guard and Reserves to provide sufficient troops to maintain order in the affected areas. With no explanation as yet to the cause of the phenomenon, containment is proving impossible, with Tel Aviv, Islamabad and Vancouver joining the list of major cities so far reporting disturbances.”

Taking a breath to continue, he said, “The Australian government has refused to apologize for shooting down the Japanese civilian airliner which attempted to land in Perth in spite of the national quarantine Canberra has ordered. On the contrary, Prime Minister Howard reiterated that Royal Australian Air Force F-18 fighters would continue to ‘aggressively and proactively’ maintain the quarantine around the continent. Japanese government officials could not be reached for comment, as all communications with Tokyo have been knocked out.”

King glanced at Emassi and smiled tightly. “That’s both thoroughly unenlightening and very creepy,” he told her.

“But at least it sounds like we were right about a plague,” Emassi commented.

“Let’s see if we can find an intact paper, this is the most we’ve been able to learn so far,” King suggested, heading for the door.

Emassi’s scream stopped him short in his tracks. His rifle was in his hands as if by instinct, braced against his shoulder and seeking a target. He didn’t have to look far.

From the back of the door, came…a figure. It looked as though it had once been a man, but as King’s brain saw but refused to register, it had no face. The nose and much of the skin had been blown off, but he was still walking, arms outstretched, towards the frozen Emassi, his exposed jaw working open and shut.

“Hold it right there!” King ordered. “I said hold it! NOT ANOTHER STEP, ASSHOLE!”

When the figure continued to plod forward, King fired into his chest. The distance was less than four metres, and the level three burst should have put the man down instantly. Instead, he rocked backwards briefly, and then continued to advance. King fired off several more volleys into this torso, none of which met with better results. King, cursing as he did so, increased the phaser charge to level five. Bringing the stock of the weapon back to his shoulder, he fired again into the assailant, who was now close enough to grasp the panicking Emassi.

This time, King noted grimly, the phaser had an effect. The pulses tore into the man, blowing out pieces of his flesh and charring the surrounding tissue. The stench of burnt meat filled the air, but even so, the assailant sank his teeth into Emassi’s arm, breaking the skin and filling the air with another of her screams.

King ran forward and smashed the attacker in the face with the butt of his rifle. The man staggered, and turned his grey eyes to King. Moaning softly, Emassi’s blood running down his shriveled chin, he reached out to King with his arms and began to advance.

“Not tonight, fucker,” King said, firing a pulse into the ghoul’s head. Instantly, it dropped and did not move again.

Touching his communicator, King said, hurriedly but smoothly, “King to Liberty, emergency transport, retrieve the team and send Nurse Emassi directly to Sickbay.”

There was no response. He tried again and had no better luck. Giving up, he ordered the other team members to meet back at the shuttle.

“Wha-what the hell was that thing?” Emassi cried in terror, her good hand desperately clutching her wounded arm.

King took her by the elbow and started to propel her towards the street. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he assured her. “Let’s get back to the shuttle, we have to get out of the city.”

“Ensign!” she whispered urgently as soon as they stepped out into the sunlight.

“Oh…fuck,” he said simply. The street, which had been deserted when they’d gone into the store, was now beginning to fill up with dozens more of the shambling, haggard creatures. The sounds of their collective moans filled the once silent city with a terrible background noise.

They came out of doors, out of alleys, out of subway entrances. They staggered drunkenly forward, arms outstretched, bumping into obstacles and each other. Some were clearly human in origin, others were severely damaged and could not be easily identified. Most walked on two legs, some dragged themselves forward with their hands. They were male and female, young and old, big and small.

They were also all heading directly for King and Emassi.

“Get behind me,” he ordered urgently. Once again, he increased the setting on his rifle, this time to level nine, powerful enough to vaporize any unarmoured individual.

Good thing I like those holo-horror programs, he thought to himself as he started to fire well-aimed shots into the advancing creatures. As he’d hoped, any target that he hit instantly vaporized, but even with that kind of firepower, King still didn’t think he could put down enough of them to keep himself and Emassi safe.

“Come on,” he said to her, “We’ll run back to the shuttle, these things are slow. I’ll only shoot the ones we have to get by.” Too terrified to ask questions and still clutching her bloody wound, Emassi simply nodded. Setting off at a jog, King began to lead the way back down Broadway towards Times Square. The creatures, of which now King estimated there were nearly a hundred, were too slow to catch them, and instead shuffled along behind them. Occasionally, one would be directly in their path and King would vaporize it, but he felt that they would make it safely back to the shuttle.

That changed once they got to Times Square itself. King could hear the sounds of desperate phaser volleys long before he could see his two security troops firing wildly into a crowd of several hundred of the creatures. Standing atop the shuttle’s roof, the two men both had their rifles shouldered and were attempting to keep any of the several hundred creatures that surrounded the shuttle from climbing atop it, as they had.

The throng of moaning, writhing creatures was being added to by a constant influx of staggering stragglers, and King instantly abandoned his plan to get back to the shuttle. Looking about desperately to orient himself, King thought, Where the hell can we go that will exist in the early 21^st Century that I’d be familiar with from the late 24^th?

Madison Square Garden!

“This way!” King urged, vaporizing three of the creatures and setting off down Seventh Avenue. “We’ve got to get to Seventh and West 32^nd Street.”

Emassi, despite being a New York native, didn’t follow his line of thinking. “That’s ten blocks away, what’s there?”

Setting the pace and firing from the hip into any creature that got too close, King hurriedly explained, “The fourth Madison Square Garden, home of the New York Rangers. I must have been to a hundred games on the holodeck, and right now, that’s as close to home territory as we have.” Firing again, he began to worry about the charge on his phaser. He did have two extra packs, plus his pistol, but with potentially millions of these creatures in the city, he wanted to have a healthy reserve of ammunition.

King was startled when Ensign T’Luv fell into step with him, her own pistol drawn. “I heard the sound of your rifle,” she explained.

“What about the others?” he asked. “We couldn’t get near the shuttle and had to haul ass out of the Square. There were hundreds of those things.”

“I regret that the crewmen are dead,” T’Luv said simply. “I could hear their screams.”

Glad I don’t have hearing that sensitive, King thought as he vaporized a well-dressed ghoul. T’Luv also fired twice, putting precisely aimed shots into the heads of two small once-children.

“Lower setting shots are effective if directed against the brain of the assailants,” the Vulcan told him calmly after he vaporized a small gaggle of shuffling beings.

“I already saw one with his face blown off still walking around,” King responded, firing twice. “I’d rather be sure of putting them down, especially while on the move. Besides, we’re almost there. Madison Square Garden is just a few blocks down.”

T’Luv stopped suddenly. “We cannot go there.”

King stopped and turned around, looking at her incredulously. “Pardon me?” he said while Emassi looked between them.

“There’s little time, but suffice it to say, Madison Square Garden will not prove our salvation. We need other option, quickly.” The Vulcan proved her point about the need for speed by quickly firing a series of shots into the heads of approaching creatures.

“Fuck.” King looked around furiously, desperate to find another option while still vaporizing their attackers. His phaser cell was down to less than one-third remaining, and he knew they were on the verge of being overrun.

The sewers!

No sooner had the thought occurred to him than was King desperately searching the road surface for an access to the labyrinth of conduits and pipes he knew would lie just below their feet. Finding one was easy, but opening it proved difficult.

“Ensign, help me,” he said through gritted teeth. Despite being female and slight of frame, her Vulcan strength proved decisive as the manhole cover quickly gave way to their combined efforts. “Emassi, down,” he ordered, bringing his rifle back to his shoulder and setting it to wide-dispersal. It would only be useful for a few shots, but they were now surrounded on all sides by hundreds of the creatures, and they needed time.

Whump!

The first blast tore down Seventh Avenue, vaporizing the creatures and causing heavy damage to the facades of the various buildings that lined the street. Several automobiles exploded, throwing burning petroleum through the air, starting a series of fires. The windows that hadn’t yet been broken shattered into a rain of crushed glass.

Holy shit, that was awesome! Oh, wait a minute – my shoulder!

While on a normal setting, a phaser rifle barely recoiled at all, but a high-powered wide-beam setting had kicked like his grandfather’s antique shotgun.

Chuckling with the novelty of firing such a powerful weapon, King spun around and fired another pulse. The creatures all down Seventh disintegrated, along with a sizeable portion of the street itself. The road temporarily cleared, King and T’Luv were able to lower themselves safely into the sewer system, with King dragging the manhole cover back into place over his head.

Climbing down the iron rungs into the darkness below, guided by the pathetic light of T’Luv’s palm beacon, King joined the two women in a concrete room, filled with pipes and conduits, just as he’d imagined. It appeared to be a form of maintenance chamber, and seemed, for the time being, secure.

“Why the hell couldn’t we continue onto to Madison Square Garden?” he asked. “I really wanted to see the Stanley Cup Victory banners.”

Arching a brow, T’Luv handed him a PADD. “Before the creatures forced me to flee, I was able to access archived electronic news reports, as you suggested. Local new broadcasts listed several “rescue stations” where civilians were urged to congregate for orderly evacuation by units of an organization known as the National Guard.”

King nodded. “A volunteer military force made up of civilians that could be called up as needed. Earth still has something similar, but that’s not important right now. Go on.”

Assenting, T’Luv continued. “Another broadcast, however, from a day later, mentioned that Madison Square Garden was, and I quote, ‘compromised.’ Units of the United States Air Force were called in to ‘sterilize’ the area using a weapon known as napalm.”

King winced. “Jellied petroleum, very nasty stuff. Almost impossible to extinguish, and it flows like liquid. In any event, long story short, Madison Square Garden probably isn’t even there anymore, and anyone who’s hanging around isn’t going to be very friendly.”

“Correct.”

“Any word in those news broadcasts concerning what the hell was causing all this?”

T’Luv frowned, but handed him her tricorder. On the tiny screen was a scrolling line of text, which King began to read aloud. “For reasons yet to be determined, the bodies of the recently dead are returning to life…and attacking the living?” He looked up from the tricorder and said, disbelieving, “I’m actually in a zombie movie.”

“I know what a movie is,” Emassi said from where she leaned against a wall, looking pale and terrified, “but what the hell is a zombie?”

King shrugged. “A zombie movie was part of the horror genre, around this time. Basically, dead bodies would reanimate and try to eat the living. They were generally pretty lousy, but I’ve always found them fun.” He glanced an Emassi’s bite wound, which was already showing signs of infection. “Not anymore,” he said quietly.

T’Luv was also eyeing the wound. “The infection was reported to be spread by fluidic contact with one of these…zombies,” she reported in a whisper. “Bites being the usual method. Nothing this planet could produce was able to combat the spread of the contagion. From the first reported outbreak in rural Pennsylvania to the last news transmissions over the Emergency Broadcast System, barely a month elapsed. In only 28 days, this whole planet was overrun.”

“We’ve barely been here an hour and I’ve already had quite enough,” King told her. Turning to Emassi, he asked, “Do you have any medical supplies?”

The nurse shook her head. “They’re all in the shuttle. All I have is my medical tricorder.”

“Give it to Ensign T’Luv,” he ordered. Then, trying to sound reassuring, he said, “And let’s rig up a field dressing for that arm.”

“Nurse Emassi is resting,” T’Luv reported softly, bringing King back to reality…such as it was. He put down the tricorder he’d been reading the news reports off of, and got to his feet.

“You took some scans with her medical tricorder…what’s the verdict?” he asked.

“I am not a doctor, my medical knowledge is extremely limited,” T’Luv said in preface to her report. “But, I know enough to see that the bite is massively infected. The infection is concentrating in her brain. From the reports I absorbed, she has no chance of survival, and will reanimate.”

“How long?” King asked.

“Soon,” was the best response the science officer could offer.

King laughed grimly. “It’s a lot different than the horror programs my buddy sends me for the holodeck. This zombie outbreak is hitting a little close to home.”

Stepping past T’Luv, King sat down next to the young nurse. And to think, less than six hours ago I was thinking about asking her out on a date, he thought. Or at least trying to get into her pants. He rubbed his brow, exhausted. His race around the corridor with his hockey buddies seemed a long time ago now, and that had been his pre-bed workout. He’d been awake a long time, and the constant, though muffled, moans from street level were starting to get under his skin.

A sudden moan from much closer, however, nearly scared him out of it.

Nurse Laura Emassi suddenly sat up, her laboured breathing now eerily absent. Eyes open, but vacant, she stared around the small chamber, her eyes finally coming to rest on King’s pale face. “Nn-nurse?” he asked, hoping she was still alive, but fearing she was not.

His fears were confirmed as Emassi’s hands reached for his throat. Quickly stepping back out of reach, King drew his phaser pistol and set it to a powerful enough setting that he was certain anything of Emassi that was left would not feel pain. Taking careful aim, he said softly, “Sorry I couldn’t save you, Nurse.”

Before he could fire, however, the underground chamber vanished into a blue whirl and was replaced by the comforting familiarity of Liberty’s Sickbay. Admirals McCoy and T’Kara, joined of course by the captain, stood expectantly. After a moment of surprise, King remembered his manners, and with a relieved grin, lowered the phaser.

“Sirs, I say this with all due respect, but…where the hell have you been?”

Mantovanni arched a brow at the tone, but didn’t comment. “It appears that this version of the Sol System has been claimed by another local power. Several of their vessels attacked us and jammed our communications. It’s taken us this long to work our way back here safely.” Shifting gears, Mantovanni said, quietly but with great urgency, “Ensign…where are the rest of the team members?”

King’s shoulders sagged. “Sir…I could tell you, but…maybe Admiral McCoy should make sure that I’m not insane first. Suffice it to say, Ensign T’Luv and I are the only survivors of…of our worst nightmares brought to life.”

The captain glanced at the ancient doctor and nodded minutely. “A full exam first, then,” he said, “but then I’ll need your report.”

King nodded and sat down on the edge of a biobed. “Aye, sir.” Curiously, he asked, “Have you ever seen Night of the Living Dead, Captain?”

Mantovanni arched a brow and responded, “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

King lay down and allowed McCoy to start poking and prodding him with various blinking instruments. “It’s just a suggestion, Captain, but watch it. Then maybe you’ll understand why I think we should sterilize the surface of the planet before moving off. Believe me, sir, it would be an act of mercy.”

Mantovanni and McCoy glanced at each other. “Get well soon, Ensign,” the captain responded, avoiding a direct response to King’s suggestion.

As he left Sickbay, King looked up at McCoy and said, “Doc, can I have a favour?”

“What’s that, son?” the old man asked as he kept working.

“Put me out, Doc,” King asked.

“And make sure I don’t dream.”