By Owen Quinn author of the Time Warriors and Zombie Blues
Cover by Bradley Wind
Soul Scream is part of the Time Warriors The Voalox Horror book. It is a Jacke story and involves the Warriors dealing with an alien colony harbouring a secret.
The corridor closed in around her as she fled barefoot down the riveted metal floor. She could hear it breathing, its stench that of rotting meat.
Her white nightdress clung to her figure. It was hot, the treacle air clawing at her, making her sweat profusely. Yet she could see her breath fogging as if she were running on a winter’s morning.
It was close behind and she felt the ceiling pressing down.
The corridor was long, a dull grey colour with sickly jaundice light from the inbuilt overhead junctions. The hexagonal shape reminded her of a bee hive. Always had but the Juggernaught had been built by the military for war. A hive mind at best.
Soothing the senses was not a high priority. The heavy bulkhead door reared before her like a metal sentry. She screamed in frustration as she slapped the controls on the left side but although the light turned green, it refused to budge as if it was working with the thing pursuing her.
It couldn’t be seen yet but its presence carved the air with a deep dread, its evil seeping up through the very pores of the station as it sought out its prey, without remorse, without conscience. A thick fog oozed into the passage as the temperature rose, sweat blinding her.
Its breathing intensified, calling her by name.
She screamed at it to go away but it gurgled mockingly, telling her to be afraid as it tasted her fear and drank it like water. It would take great pleasure in ripping her flesh and gnawing on her bones.
She could feel the darkness surge closer as the light dipped to a deep red. The fog thickened, dragging at her bare feet as the heat increased with the hissing.
It grated her ear drums and seemed to creep into her mind through every pore. It was close, getting closer. She threw herself back against the wall. She’d face it head on, knowing there was no chance of surviving. Her hair stuck to her face as she blindly wiped it back. She felt something warm and sticky on her hands.
Jumping, she looked at them in the hazy mist filled light and saw blood running like a tap down her arms. She screamed as the bulk head door exploded into a million molten flaming shards and the thing roared in excitement.
It was seven feet tall, draped in a hooded black gown, torn and splattered with bits of flesh and blood. Its face was in blackness but she could glimpse the flash of fangs curled back in a sadistic grin.
Long, slender hands covered in pale flaky parchment skin flexed slivery talons as she fell to her knees, covered in blood and sweat.
There was no escape.
The air screamed, the walls flowed with blood and the thing raised its arms triumphantly. It threw back its cowl and opened a maw filled with dagger fangs, ready to tear her apart. It leapt….
And Jacke jumped straight up in bed with a scream sweating. Her chest heaving fearfully. Her eyes darted round her dimly lit room checking for monsters. There was none. She lay back and pulled the lilac quilt tightly round her shaking body, frightened tears running onto her pillow.
Varran’s face was lit by the glow from the communications monitor. He was smiling as a figure appeared onscreen, its face also broken by a wide smile.
“Good morning Citizen Veloras,” Varran said, his voice dipped with respect, giving a slight inclination of his white haired head.
Veloras acknowledged the gesture. He was seated in a blue plastic seat in a sand walled chamber, the background window framed by a pair of grey drapes that Varran thought really were a terrible colour. But then Veloras was hardly a great advert for taste and colour coordination.
Dressed in an orange shirt and grey trousers tucked into what Varran could only compare to a pair of ankle high winkle pickers, Veloras’ podgy face belayed a receding grey hairline above wide hazel eyes which seemed ghosted over but twinkled none the less. His hands were pocked marked with light brown liver spots and a thick covering of hair that extended beyond his cuff line.
His broad boxer nose gave the impression it had melted sideways and his skin tone, like the other Morda they had met, had the look of someone who had overdosed on a spray tan.
“Good morning to you too,” droned the overweight man, the phrase stumbling slightly on his lips like a tourist asking directions. “I’m just calling to invite you to breakfast with me. I can’t imagine that space station thing of yours has a wide and satisfying effect on the stomach.” He sniffed almost disapprovingly. “I can smell military a decon away.” That smile again.
Varran caught his attitude and silently thought nasty thoughts. His people were out breaking their backs to establish this new colony for these people and all Veloras could think of was what to stuff down his gullet.
Keeping his distaste contained, Varran politely declined saying he had to meet Michael and Tyran on the surface to make sure the computer systems were installed properly at the new school.
Education had always come first on Xereba and here was no different. Knowledge was the best weapon in the universe and like the universe itself, learning was an ever expanding state. Veloras seemed insulted, his smile wavering beneath a slight frown but he quickly recomposed his smile, unaware Varran had noticed.
“Of course, of course,” Veloras nodded, crossing his hands on the speckled desk before him and shifting in his seat. He leaned closer to the monitor, giving his best leader pose. “The settling of the Mordan colony is paramount and your help is greatly appreciated. Your assistance has vastly speeded up our time table. We shall meet later.” With a curt nod, the channel cut off.
Varran sat back in his black padded chair thoughtfully. They had intercepted a transmission from the Mordan colony ship to the company below, an angry exchange at the timetable being behind schedule and they only had less than eight shifts to complete and depart.
From what he had learned, Varran knew eight shifts were roughly six days in the human calendar. The exchanges had seemed urgent and fraught with concern.
Caught up in a burning curiosity and obligation to help Varran had posed as a passing traveller en route to his home world and jumped the Juggernaught into orbit of the new colony named Paldoria. Those engine adaptions the Etherians had given him were a godsend and he quietly thanked them. They could now cross vast distances of space in minutes.
Citizen Veloras had seemed cautious at first before accepting Varran’s offer of help. Their aim was to expand their territory and this was the latest stage of that plan. A new colony whose inhabitants were true and loyal people with very strong beliefs in family and tradition. It was deeply rooted in their lives and was almost a religion to them.
In order for their civilisation to survive and grow, the children were given only the best of everything; top education, fantastic physical development and certain holidays were family based, designed to enhance and procure the familial unit.
In a way, Varran was jealous as his world was gone and took scant comfort in the fact he was teaching virtually the same principles to Jacke, Michael and Tyran. Varran had been escorted through the rising streets on a number of occasions and had been impressed by the arduous commitment of the population as they erected the metal and stone walled shelters, a hospital, a school, education centres and homes for the sixty three families relocated here.
Except for their skin colouring, the Mordans were physically similar to the humans and Xerebans and exhibited the same drive and ambition when it came to reaching their goals and making dreams a reality. But there was something niggling at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint but could it be he saw something of himself in these people as they struggled to build a new life on an alien world.
The Time Warriors and Beyond 