Title: Finding Evil: Part Three

Author: quew

See part one for disclaimer, archiving info and classification.

Rating: Nc-17 overall, although parts may vary.

Warnings: Please do not read if easily offended by descriptions of gore and death.

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The moonlight gave the hallway a silvery glow as it passed through the large, high windows. It hit cabinets full of expensive looking plates and candlesticks, pictures with large, nice frames and a figure, tall with tangled brown hair streaming out behind her as she desperately ran as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. For all intents and purposes, they were.

She reached the corner and took it so fast she nearly overbalanced, stumbling slightly. She righted herself, hands desperately trying to pull the cord on the chainsaw she ran with. Finally it spluttered into life, the teeth of the saw catching the moonlight as they started to move.

She reached the end door and pulled hard on the doorknob, but it was locked. 'No!' She screamed, leaping forward and putting her shoulder to the door. Again and again she threw herself against the thick wood, but it did not move.

She lifted the 'saw, about to cut through the door, when she heard a sound behind her. She knew she didn't have time to cut through the thick wood before the thing chasing caught up with her, so she raised the 'saw, swallowed her tears of terror, turned and charged.

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Delta team, or what was left of it, was lined up in front of their leader.

She checked her pack and then straightened to address them, running her hand through chin length dark hair as her chocolate eyes scanned the assembled team. 'Now, as you know, our mission parameters have been changed due to circumstances beyond our control. This was a simple recon mission to back up reports of missing personnel and strange goings-on in the area. Now, our main priority is to get out. Any survivors we find will also come with us, understand?' The team nodded. 'Good. Now, I want to…see…' Her words trailed off as she saw all of their sight go past her, focusing on something directly behind her.

'He can't possibly be alive!' Sam whispered as Torres turned, a hard ball of fear settling in her gut.

The dead man was moving.

They watched as he began to flail on the hard concrete. He rolled onto to his front and started to pull himself toward them, moaning in a cold, empty voice.

Chapman and Wildman started forward, bending down to pick him up. Just as their hands grabbed his upper arms he shot forward, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Chapman's calf. His bloody hands wrapped themselves around Chapman's leg as the soldier stepped back, yelling.

Torres leapt forward and grabbed the scientists legs, pulling for all she was worth as Chapman kicked at the mans head.

'Somebody shoot him! Shoot him!' She screeched, pulling her pistol from its holster with one hand as she continued to pull.

Paris loosed three bursts into the man's body as Torres aimed for his head, and within thirty seconds he went limp in her grasp. She pulled him off her team-mate with one hand, keeping the gun trained on him.

When she'd pulled him to the other side of the room, she turned back to see Chapman sitting against the wall, a hand to his wound as blood started to pool on the floorboards. She nodded at Paris who shook himself out of his shock and ran forward, opening his pack as he did so. He checked the wound, cleaned it and dressed it quickly - say what you like about the weasel, she thought, but he's one of the best medics we've ever had.

'It looked clean,' he said as he gave Chapman a small shot of antibiotics. 'I don't think it'll get infected.'

Torres nodded and Chapman got to his feet. 'How does it feel?' She asked.

'I'll be okay,' he said, shooting a glance at the man's body. It was clear his wound wasn't what was troubling him most, and the thought was one they all had - What the hell is going on?

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'Are you ready?' Kathryn asked. 'We have to try and get out of here, get off the grounds.'

'I'm ready,' Hanson said, trying desperately not to shake. Janeway nodded at her and then every so slowly unlocked the door of the room they were hiding in. She opened the door a fraction of an inch at a time, peering out into the dimly lit corridor beyond.

'I think it's clear,' she whispered. She could see the lift, its doors still open, and it was so close now. Pulling the other woman behind her, she stepped out into the dank, dripping underground hallway. They took one step forward and then another, trying to ignore the dark pools of blood by their feet.

They sped up, trying to walk quietly and at the same time so desperate to get out that they almost didn’t care how much noise they made. The lift was so close, only another fifteen feet…suddenly Kathryn noticed that all the side doors leading off from the hallway were ajar. A feeling of dread insinuated itself into her consciousness and she moved a little faster.

Why are all the doors open? They were shut, they were all shut, it's the rules…why are they…?

A low snarl, almost crooning, echoed behind them. They froze, and Kathryn turned to look over her shoulder. 'It's one of them,' she whispered, feeling Hanson begin to shake once more.

Suddenly, from behind every door came a moan, pale fingers pulling at the half-open doors as zombies fought to get to living flesh.

'How…?' Hanson stuttered, staring at the rooms.

Kathryn knew. She stared at the beast that was lurking at the far end of the corridor, its face twisted into a permanent snarl by its oversized teeth. It saw her staring and bobbed its head…it's laughing at us she thought.

'He did it,' she said, 'he trapped us here. He herded the zombies into the rooms because he knew as soon as they smelled us, they'd come out and we'd be trapped.'

'Does that mean that it doesn't wasn't to kill us itself?'

'No,' Kathryn said, horror making the words catch in her throat. 'It means he's playing with us. He's learning.'

#

They watched in horror as the dead man lying on the other side of the room pulled himself slowly to his feet, His movements looked jerky and disconnected, as if he'd only seen people move and never tried it himself.

No…it can't be possible, can it? As if reading her thoughts, the thing in front of her groaned. She un-holstered her gun in one swift movement, aiming it at the dead man who had somehow found his feet despite being shot. He swayed gently, as if caught in an invisible breeze, and then raised his face, sniffing the room. He turned sightless eyes toward them and started forward.

Without hesitation, Torres put two bullets in his torso. He stumbled, looking lost for a moment, and then started forward once more. He didn't seem to register the pain at all.

All at once the room was filled with the loud crack of gunshots as the rest of Alpha team opened fire, mincing the guy to pieces. She worked fast, un-strapping her shotgun from her pack and she held up a hand for cease-fire. The guy was still standing, somehow, although he'd stopped moving. Blood ran thick and slow from the holes on his body as he moaned quietly to himself, his skin slightly green where it wasn't blood-smeared.

She walked forward and he lifted his head as she approached, sniffing deeply.

/Like a dog hunting for meat,/ she thought as she stopped just out of range. The guy tried to step forward but his legs no longer responded to his commands, and all he could manage was to lean slightly in her direction. He lifted one hand, reaching out for her.

She kept her eyes on his face, noting the slackness of his skin and the pearly sheen over his eyes, before she raised her gun and blew his head from his shoulders.

The body toppled backwards slowly, and she nudged it with a booted toe as if, somehow, it would get up again.

'Everybody with a shotgun,' she said, her eyes still on the headless zombie. 'Use it.'

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