Violet walked down the corridor toward Station Center. Satoshi’s on Level Three had the best bbq kabobs. The grease and spice was the perfect combination of hangover-cure and comfort food. Exactly what she needed right now.
Five minutes into her walk, she noticed something felt off. “Where the fuck is everybody?” Her level was still a ghost town. It was starting to creep her out.
She frowned as reached the airlock that connected Sector Six to the station proper. The blast doors were closed.
She stared, dumbfounded. She’d never seen them closed before. The station was a modular design. Set up so that sections could be sealed off in the event of a hull breech or added on to accommodate growing populations. It also allowed for off-site construction which significantly lowered the cost of building.
Violet forced a deep breath and massaged her temples. Must be doing some kind of unannounced maintenance or something.
There was another corridor all the way on the other side of the level. After another gurgle from her empty stomach, Violet figured it was worth a shot.
The station groaned and pinged as she walked. Unusual.
Or maybe it was the empty hallways and the eerie silence. Maybe she’d just never noticed the sounds before.
To make matters worse, she got the distinct impression that someone was watching her.
She checked behind her. Nothing but spacious hallway.
She was being paranoid. Her nerves were just on high alert because of Becky.
She shuddered and did her best to shake the feeling off.
Her stomach attempted to help. It growled again as she neared the second airlock. She sunk. “No, no, no!” The doors were closed on this side as well.
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“Fuck!” She beat her fist against the bulkhead and then turned and screamed to the ceiling, “What is going on today?”
Her tantrum was cut short by her comm alert. The screen flashed the black and blue logo of Security Services. “Finally!” she answered.
“Umm, sorry, hello?” a man’s voice replied. A second later his face filled the screen, and the lag sorted itself out.
“This is Violet—Violet Weaver. I called and left a message earlier about a murder. What’s the matter? You guys too busy to do your jobs today?”
“Ma’am, this is Officer Hector Clark with Station Security—hang on, did you say murder?”
Violet’s eyes rolled back in her head. It’s like no one ever really listened to her. “I found my friend Becky dead this morning at her apartment—”
“What did you say your name was?”
“Violet Weaver,” she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Where have you been for the last eighteen hours?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Violet, as far as we know, you may be the only other person alive in Sector Six.”
Violet stiffened and reflexively stopped breathing as though hiding from a predator.
“Sector Six is under quarantine,” the officer continued. “You need to go back to your quarters, lock the door, and don’t leave until you hear back from me.”
Violet heard an alarm sound in the background. Wherever the officer was, it sounded hectic. Voices yelled back and forth over the audio feed. “I’ve got to go, but I’m going to call you back in—” he consulted the clock, “ten minutes. Maybe more. As soon as I can, I promise. Just go back to your apartment as fast as possible and wait for me to call you.”
“Wait!” But she was too late.
The officer’s face disappeared as the line went dead.
Violet’s stomach dropped. Suddenly food was the last thing on its mind. She replayed the security officer’s words in her head.
What did he mean she might be the only other person alive?
She covered her mouth as the realization hit her. The lack of people in the halls… All the sanibots… She gagged a little—the abrasive sound of saw blades spinning up and cutting.
Violet turned back toward her apartment and took a few stumbling steps as the adrenaline flooded her system. She fought back the panic that threatened to shut her body down for good. And then instead of fighting it, she gave into it and ran.