Necropolis Read Online Free PDF Page B

to simply sit idle. He tripped on something and crashed to the deck, pain shooting up through his joints. He stared down and found the corridor floor littered with body parts, severed limbs ripped from torsos, bloodied organs, and dismembered heads, grimaces of unknowable pain etched permanently into their frozen faces, like glyphs carved from granite.
    Greg gasped and lurched to his feet. All around him, a banging began. It sounded like fists beating on metal. The noise grew and grew. The moans of the damned slipping into his skull like an audible virus. He pressed his hands to his ears, screaming, unable to drive out the sound. He thrashed around, certain that he was going mad.
    Greg jerked awake as a hand touched his shoulder. If the safety hadn't been on, his pistol would have gone off. He gripped it beneath the pillow. Kyra hovered over him, loose strands of hair hanging around her pale face, framed by a dim gray light.
    “ You were making a lot of noise.” She spoke in a hushed voice.
    Greg tried to speak, but found his mouth dry as a desert. He coughed and sat up. Kyra stepped back.
    “I'm fine,” he managed. “Anything happen while I was out?”
    Kyra shook her head and he pulled the blankets aside. He was drenched in sweat. A shower would do wonders about now. Kyra agreed when he suggested it and he searched the dresser for a spare uniform. When he found one and compared it against his own, he found that it matched. Stepping into the bathroom, he flicked on the light and closed the door.
    Greg turned on the water in the small frosted glass stall and let it run until it filled the bathroom with steam. He removed everything from his pockets, setting the items, and the new uniform, folded neatly, on the counter. Before the mirror fogged up, he took a quick look at himself. He didn't like the way his eyes were sunken and bloodshot. It looked like someone had hit him, and more than once. His short, dark hair was plastered to his pale skull. He rubbed at his eyes and stripped off his torn, bloodied clothing.
    The shower felt great, best thing to happen to him since waking up. Well, besides finding another living person. He washed all the blood and dirt off of his skin, found a razor and some shaving cream and decided to put them to use. By the time he was out and toweled off, he was already feeling a whole hell of a lot better.
    Greg opened up the partially used medical kit and went over his various cuts and scrapes, the bandages from the crashed ship had either fallen off or barely hung on at this point. Sealing the kit back up, he finished dressing and hunted around the squalid bathroom for a toothbrush and some toothpaste. The taste of blood still lingered in his mouth. He brushed, gargled, and spat, then returned to the bedroom.
    “ Thought you'd died in there, Greg. You spent more time in that bathroom than I usually do.” Kyra smirked.
    He didn't know what to say and instead just chuckled and shrugged, making his way across the room. Her gaze followed him.
    “Are you blushing ?” Her grin now infected her voice.
    Greg sighed.
    “Shut up.” His words lacked any of the emotion they had if he’d meant them.
    Kyra laughed and stepped into the bathroom, a new uniform and towel bundled in her arms. He sighed. I’m such an idiot. His mind decided to substitute his embarrassment for visualizing what Kyra looked like naked, but that only made him feel more awkward. He sighed again and went to the window.
    It was still raining, but the sun had risen.
    In the cold gray light of day, the landscape only looked that much bleaker. The view faced away from the camp, showing nothing but unbroken miles of wasteland. In the distance, he saw the uncertain outlines of mountains. Greg turned away from the window and moved over to a desk, laying out his small arsenal. While Kyra showered, Greg cleaned his weapons, disassembling them with practiced ease.
    Yes, he decided, he was a soldier.
    His dreams disappointed him, as,