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                “Some of us like long and dangerous climbs.”

                                Leonard McCoy, Star Trek V: The Final Frontier

                “The zombies can see and hear just as good as us.” Slate explains as we walk along the catwalk, our hands staying by the glass barrier for balance. Even though the air is stale, the wind kicks up enough to disrupt our walking. “But the real danger is their sense of smell. They can track better than most dogs. I’ve seen one navigate a trail that was over two days old.”

                “Well, while I was inside the lab place, I read some notes on the virus.” I say. She glances over her shoulder at me, but doesn’t stop. “They’re apparently from some blood sample, part of Project 525. Ever heard of it?” She shakes her head. “Well, apparently, the sample caused people to mutate based on their blood type.”

                Slate stops cold.

                She turns around to me. “Blood type?” She asks, her eyes rock hard on me. “What did it say?”

                “Blood Types B and AB.” I say. “That’s what the memos said. That the original blood type was Type B, so B and AB are at risk.”

                Slate looks away. “So the zombies are B. And they must all be AB.” She whispers.

                “Huh?” I say, pretending I don’t hear so she’ll explain. But she doesn’t.

                “Come on.” She says, yanking herself down the catwalk. I want to protest and get some answers out of her, but I’m self-conscious about how much noise we’re making. Our footsteps sound like bombs falling on the metal grating.

                We circle around the grating for a long time until Slate suddenly stops and kneels down. It takes me a few seconds to realize she’s over another opening. I look back and realize that we’ve probably walked a couple of miles. “Do you know why it’s so dark in here?”

                “No.” she said as she fishes around in her pockets. “The other bio-domes have power, to my knowledge. Well, sort of.” She pulls out a set of keys and unlocks a lock on the grating.

                “Did you lock all of them except that one of there?” I ask.

                “Yeah.” She says a she opens the grating and moves down to the ladder. “I had to make sure I had a safe zone.

                “But what if you need to climb up one of the other ladders again?”

                “I don’t think anyone will ever be coming back here.” She says with a glare at me, then starts down the ladder. Again, I want to demand something of her, but I don’t know what. I just hate getting jerked around like this.

                I get onto the ladder and we start the climb down. Getting onto the ladder is a lot harder than getting off, I find. Even though I climbed up those rungs on the other ladder, as I step off onto them and climb down enough to get a hold, I can’t help but feel they’re going to break free of the glass barrier and I’ll fall to my doom.

                As I climb, I linger long enough to look out the glass. It’s thick and canopied, but I think I see can see the outside world. It looks like it’s getting close to night. Or maybe it’s the middle of the day for all I can notice. “Why are these things . . .”

                “Shh!” Slate barks at me as she keeps climbing down. “Come on!” She whispers loudly.

                I climb down and drop down behind her. She’s pulled out a machete not dissimilar from mine. I take mine out of my backpack with a smooth motion that makes me smile, but then I suddenly go on alert. I’m back in the forest. And Slate, the only person I’ve encountered that’s still alive, sounds like a bull charging through the forest.

                Even though she’s being loud, I refuse to make noise. I stay as quiet as I possibly can, but still I manage to keep up with her.

                She leads me through the forest for a long time. I start to wonder if she has any idea where she’s going, then I notice it. Each tree is missing a branch. Clearly lying at the base of the trunk, the tree branches form a surprisingly clear path.

                Slate leads me to a large hill and she stops.

                “Okay.” She whispers. “First thing things. I want you to circle around that way.” She says, pointing to the right. “I’ll circle around the left. If there are any monsters, draw them out and we’ll deal with them.”

                “Why?”

                “Because, I don’t want them to know how to get out of here.” She says.

                “They can remember?” I exclaim.

                “They might. They might not. But I’m not going to take the risk.” She says. She heads off to the left, her machete held ready. I linger for a moment and sigh, then start off to the right.

                The hill is pretty pronounced. I can’t help but think about how much fun it would be to slide off of if it was snowing. But the large bump in the grass aside, the forest leads right up to it, then the hill bulges up to about my height, then disappears into the forest again.

                I keep circling around, looking for monsters, but I don’t see or hear anything. I come around to the rear of the hill and I see Slate, staring up at the top. I turn and see it.

                It’s a small hole, maybe the size of a manhole or a bit bigger. For a moment, it looks almost like it was torn out of the side of the hill, until I see the steel underneath the inches of dirt. “Is that the way out?” I ask. Slate nods. “And I’m guessing you didn’t leave it open.”

                “No, I closed it.” She sighs. “And there was a lid. I guess they tore it off or something.” She looks away. “How are these things this strong?” She asks to no one.

                “Good question.” I nod. For some reason, my mind wonders back to the big figure that killed the first three monsters I encountered. I shiver away the thoughts and turn to Slate. “Well, we still need to get out of here.”

                “Yeah.” She agrees, turning back to the hole. “But this just means that they’re inside. Who knows how many? And without the cover, we can’t seal off the entrance.”

                “Well, we’ll just have to take our chances.” I say stoically. “Is it really any different than the position we’re in now?”

                Slate nods. “I guess not.” She says just before starting up the steep hill. She approaches the dark hole cautiously and looks inside. I come up near her, but stay a few feet away. While she looks inside, I listen outside.

                Nothing

                “It’s not going to be dark in here.” She says after a moment. “It’s going to be absolutely pitch black. That means that any time we use a flashlight, it’ll be seen. Got it? There’s no light unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

                “How are we going to find our way?” I ask.

                “I can find our way back.” She explains with uncharacteristic patience. “We will have to use the flashlights occasionally. But we need to keep it to the utmost minimum.”

                “I got ya.” I nod.

                “Okay.” She says, turning to the hole. She takes a deep breath and lets it slowly out. “Here we go.” She says, stepping into the darkness.

                I wait for her to head inside, looking around one last time. A strange sense of emotion hits me. I find myself hesitant to leave the forest and the familiar hell I’m in. I don’t know why. But then another emotion hits me.

                Paranoia

                I stare at the trees, watching them as they watch me. I don’t hear anything. I don’t see anything. But I can tell, somehow, something’s watching.

                When I crawl into the hole, I panic to get inside the darkness.

                The light’s that cast down from the hole disappears disturbingly fast. Inside, I find myself on a steel platform, with a tiny three-step ladder leading up the hole. Around the hole is nothing but reinforced steel. I can tell the slope of the hill and can almost see the skim of the underside of the bio-dome. The ground’s thick.

                I listen.

                Nothing

                “Come on.” Slate whispers, walking to the edge of the yard-square platform. At the very end is a ladder. I look past her, getting a touch of vertigo when the ladder disappears into darkness.

                “How far is it?” I ask weakly.

                “367 rungs.” She answers with precision.

                I find it difficult to move.

                As if on auto-pilot, I manage to swing around and start to climb down after her. My steps resound against each rung as I start to make the slow descent. In no time, we’re swallowed up by nearly endless darkness in every direction. I can’t imagine anything ever being that lightless and all of a sudden, all the terrors of all my life come swarming back at me. Everything from the monster under my bed when I was three to every horror movie I’ve ever seen.

            And then something brings me just the tiniest touch of comfort.

            “Eighteen.”

“Nineteen.”

“Twenty.”

“Twenty-one.”

“Twenty-Two.”

            Just barely a breath for each count, I hear Slate counting.

            I don’t know if she knows what she’s doing, but the sound of her monotonous voice, however soft and weak, keeps me grounded.

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