Excursion of the Dead

The copper smell of blood is sickeningly strong as soon as we step through the airlock. Even caked in and burnt to a cinder the crimson is overwhelming, a dark maroon beneath the glare of our flashlights.
“I don’t like this, not one bit” Sas says, his beam wavering in the darkness.
“Why would you?” I reply, my own light steady in the cold sweat of my hands, “We’re venturing into what we know to be a corpse-filled ship that has been hollowed out by an evil unheralded, unexplained, unimaginable.”
“That didn’t help, not one bit.”
Despite everything I smile. The ship groans somewhere deep in its bowels, nothing to it but an old machine retiring into dilapidation, but we both jump.
“It was nothing,” I say, pre-empting Sas’ rattled questions.
I know
We make our way through the dead ship, knowing we’ll never find anything but the charred corpses we’re stepping over. Lucky we’re not squeamish.
Secret: I am so squeamish.
I’ll never let him know it but Sas is so much better at all this than me. I ignore the everything infiltrating ever aspect of my senses. I can literally taste the death in the air. Ugh. My head is swimming in nausea but I plug on regardless, putting on a brave face. When the universe is under attack from this kind of evil, everyone needs to step up. We all make sacrifices.
We continue to explore.

Me and Maria are arguing. I proposed a TV show called ‘Poop Magoop’. It’s about a poop called Magoop. I think people would watch it. She does not. Your thoughts in an email to mail@joeblame.com


~ by Joseph Blame on March 5, 2011.

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