When...

When...? That is... the question. When? The faint yellow light swirled across the wall, illustrating it with the patterns of the grating over the glass that protected the entirety of the indoors from the void and vacuum of the black space beyond.

When... when... when... How many days had it been? Little scratches on the wall made with a screwdriver suggested it had been 37, no 38 days. The scratches grew duller as the days progressed. Red paint smeared across the walls and dripped across the floor as it poured from the hand of the one who made the scratches. The handle of the screwdriver had broken somewhere near day 24. A scream echoed from her mouth, followed immediately by the unwounded hand slamming against her face, silencing her tongue as tears began to wash her dirty cheeks.

She stared at the doorway, breathing in deep. The salt from her tears and sweat sour on her tongue as she waited. When? It had been at least a week since one of the... creatures, had snooped around the entrance to her little hideaway, but now it could be any second. So she waited in painful silence. For how long? A few moments? Hours? Possibly days? Until the hunger became too strong? Until the desire for water overpowered the desire to remain safe.

Day 38. The slow agony of solitude had long since taken over her mind. She sat and watched as the light pattern crossed the wall again. The boredom was palpable as she counted in her head, "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine." The light crossed the wall again, and she started over, "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven..." This is what her days had been reduced to: nine-second intervals.

Her stomach growled. Not a subtle gurgle but the kind that you feel in your entire body. “One. Two. Hunger. Four…” she heard in her head. Her body twisted slightly as her eyes locked with the door and the rubbish she’d put against it as make-shift barricades. The yellow light passed across the wall behind her. She began to drag herself toward the door, leaving faint bloodied prints on the metal flooring.

Her palm ached. Her upper lip tensed each time her bare flesh touched the cold steel. Her knees dragged, smearing the bloodied prints and soaking the knees of her standard issue brown jumpsuit. The first piece of rubbish was the lightest, an empty trashcan. The act of keeping each piece of junk quiet made the task of freeing herself from this tomb painstakingly long. She paused as she gently placed the last piece of junk on the floor. A ventilation grate sat before her. The edges of the metal bent back as she’d attacked the corner with a screwdriver to get inside during her panic.

The junk had kept out the smell, but the stagnant smell of body odor and blood began to seep into the room. Her throat choked, holding back the bile that wanted to escape. She pulled up the handkerchief that had become a permanent fixture around her neck and covered her nose and mouth. The cotton helped a little, taking away the taste but not the smell of the air. Her fingers slid against the bent metal and pushed lightly. With a small creak, the vent cover gave way.

Her breath hung in her lungs as she listened. The vent floated in her hands as she waited for any sound that wasn't hers. If you find me. Take me quick, she thought. Her body contorted like a pretzel through the vent opening until she knelt on the cold tile. The smears of blood and food debris were exactly as she remembered them on the tile floor of the 3rd deck kitchen. She dare not look to her left, like last time. The disemboweled remains of a coworker sat against the door to the freezer.

Her bare feet moved slowly across the tile toward the saloon style doors that sealed the kitchen from the dining area. Just the top of her head appeared through a window in the door as she scanned the dining area. Trays littered the floor and tables. Amongst them, bodies. So many bodies. And blood spatter. She could feel tears gathering in her eyes.

She continued onward, pushing the double doors open as quietly as she could. The thick rubber divider resisted her at first. She held onto the door until it closed behind her quietly. Her stomach growled, causing her to freeze. She waited a minute for the noise to cease. Her eyes searched the room, a map hung on the wall next to the doorway out of the dining area.

She looked up through the skylight, her home planet, Shamble (designated X107B-54 by the fine folks at the Earth's Imperial Space Command), spun quietly. The light from her little hideaway passed by: a corridor from the main space station to a transport ship. She saw it now for the first time. The corridor was ripped in half, exposed wires and loose metal seemed to flutter as oxygen escaped past them into the void.

After nine seconds the corridor was gone, and Shamble sat alone again. She had no clue if the creatures who attacked the station had also attacked the planet. But she did know that she didn't want to spend the rest of her life waiting in the storage space behind the kitchen.

The glass covering the map was mostly clean, save the bottom right corner which was drenched with a bloodied handprint. A body lie on the ground next to her. She didn't know them, and although she was tempted to check their name tag, she decided against it. Her goal was to find first aid, and food, and other survivors, and not be detected by the creatures. And, if she could accomplish that, maybe, just maybe, start working on a plan to escape to Shamble.

Her green eyes raced across the map. First finding the obnoxious red "you are here" sticker on the cafeteria. Then they moved quickly across the lines that represented the halls. Old habits begged for her to repeat what she was looking for aloud, "Clinic. Clinic. Clinic." But somehow she resisted. She found it, "Clin..." the rest covered in blood. She blinked, realizing she was the farthest point from the clinic.

She started to go over the directions in her head: Out the door. Turn right. Straight until the end of the hall. Left at the fork. Straight. Right at the second intersection. Straight again to the end of the hall. Left at the fork. Then the first right. Air filled her lungs.

She looked up once more to the skylight. The oceans of Shamble almost seemed to shimmer at her. The corridor past again, reminding her instantly that she should stay on guard.

The door from the cafeteria was just as heavy as she remembered it from before the attack. She hadn't ventured beyond the cafeteria since and had run out of food only days after the attack. The station had been due for a resupply the next day. But that was 37 days ago. And once the station had been overrun by the creatures, they destroyed every ship that left the surface of Shamble.

The hallway reeked of iron: blood coated the walls. Her chest tightened as she held air in her nose to try to keep from breathing the wretched stench. The once white tile floor was now a faint brown with dried blood. She took a step forward, and paused, remembering she was barefoot. "I can't do this." She thought.

She took another step, knowing she had to, regardless of how disgusting and afraid she felt. She turned right. Light fixtures hung from wires on the ceiling. A couple of bodies laid on the ground. One a soldier, one a doctor. She pressed on, walking flat footed to not slip on the ground. She weaved around a hanging light, the bulb pulsing with not enough electricity to illuminate it but enough to glow in thin waves.

Her breath was short and shallow, only coming from her nose. As she passed the corpses she didn't dare look down. The smell grew the closer she got to them.

The wall in front of her was marked with a black shape that she couldn't quite make out. It wasn't until she was right at the intersection that she realized it was claw marks in the metal walls. Her heart raced faster. It was then that she realized the silence of the space station. She could hear nothing except the roaring engine from the deck above. She was grateful they hadn't ceased.

She turned left. The bloodied floor seemed to end for now. A few more lights lit the area. She extended her arm and walked close to the wall, her fingers sliding over the claw marks as she moved down the hallway.

The first intersection before her was quite large and thus decorated with draped lights and another large skylight. She looked up as she passed through it. Debris of a ship foreign to her drifted between the station and Shamble. It belonged to the aliens. She froze. Half the ship was missing, but it was still tethered to the station.

She couldn't recall seeing any sort of fighters that could have damaged the creature's ship. How many ships had their been? Was it just one? Maybe all of the creatures are dead? Or worse... trapped... She shook her head at the thought and then waited, listening for any sound. Again only the engine echoed through the halls, almost lightly vibrating them. She started again, forward to the next intersection.

Her heart wanted to beat out of her chest as she pressed on. She couldn't shake the thought that right around the corner might be a... she gasped as she turned right and fell back to the floor. One of the creatures stood before her. It towered over her, it's skin wet: blood covered. Anything that could've passed for a sharp weapon struck through it's corpse. Her eyes filled with tears before realizing it's feet weren't touching the tile. It hung from a thick cable, it's body swaying with the rotation of the station.

For the first time in ages she heard her breath as she struggled to catch it. There was no smell. It's death was recent. Someone killed it. Most likely, many someones. How many? Who? Where were they? She began to crawl, scooting around the creature's long tail as she continued the direction she needed to go. Straight to the end of this hallway. I'm almost there. She said as she crawled, trying to muster the strength to stand and walk again. Her palm ached in pain, leaving a trail of bloodied handprints behind her.

As she reached the elevator banks that would take her to the next floor she came to a stop. All four doors were open. What if someone is in them, waiting for someone to pass by? She'd be better off passing through quickly. Using the wall she rose to her feet. She felt wobbly, walking on her tiptoes to be quiet.

Her eyes shifted to glance into the open elevator cars as she passed, they were just as messy as everything else: garbage littering the floor and blood painting the walls. She let out an exhale as she cleared them. The end of the hallway approached quickly now that she was back on her feet. She stuck near the wall, afraid to turn the corner and find another of the creatures.

A sign on the wall across from her read "Clinic" with an arrow pointing to the left. A smile crossed her lips, and hope filled her mind for the first time in weeks. Her small frame pressed against the wall and then she peered around the corner.

The hall was dark, except for the green cross glowing above the door to the clinic.

She lifted her weight onto her bare toes as she took the four remaining steps toward the door. She pushed it open slowly when a hand grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the room. Air filled her lungs to scream, but a palm clamped over her mouth.

Her eyes were wide as she stared at three people, four, counting the one holding her. They all stared in silence until she exhaled from her nose. The hand loosened on her mouth and released her wrist. She looked back at a tall man with dark skin. His face painted with spatters of creature blood.

The other three looked just as ragged. Their clothes as dirty as hers, their faces tired. They all nodded silently at her and then turned back toward the center of the room.

She circled around them, still cautious, looking for supplies. The dark skinned man watched her. He nodded at one of the group in the center, a black woman. She left the group.

"I'm Emily. What can I help you find?" she whispered.

"I just need a bandage," she said hoarsely, exposing her hand. The wound still hadn't healed, the edges of the cut pink with infection. Emily frowned, and then made eye contact. "I'm Nora." Her throat suddenly ached with disuse.

Emily's frown shifted slowly, "It's a pleasure, Nora." Emily went to a nearby cabinet. Inside were several first aid kits, all labeled from the different decks of the station.

"We've been hiding in here for about four days. One of those things followed us down here, breaking the elevators as it did," Emily said, opening the paper packaging of some gauze. She took Nora's hand and placed some ointment on the cut, and then softly placed the gauze.

"There's one escape pod left on the next floor. Big enough for all of us to make it back to Shamble," Emily whispered. Nora's eyes rose from her palm to Emily's face as she wrapped Nora's hand. Tears began to swell under her eyelids. "Me too?"

Before she could answer, a Latina woman with a bandana wrapped across her eye interrupted. "Where've you been hiding for the past month?" Her tone was aggressive. Nora's head shifted and then her stomach rolled, loud enough for everyone to hear. The Latina woman laughed quietly and extended a closed fist, "Gisella," she said, waiting for Nora's response. Nora extended her hand, bumping her knuckles against Gisella's bruised and greased hands. She looked from her hand to her face, "Were you a mechanic?"

"Yes. I worked on the engine deck. That's how we know there's still an escape pod there. That was the first place the gilas attacked," Gisella said in her deep voice.

"Gilas?" Nora questioned.

"Like Gila Monsters back on Earth. That's what these creatures look like. Giant, walking, fighting, communicating gila monsters," the dark skinned man whispered and then went back to looking through a crack in the door.

"How many are left on the station?" Nora asked.

"We don't know. Possible ten. Maybe only two. We managed to destroy their ship, but that's when they killed the rest of the resistence," Gisella said, her voice cracking slightly as her eyes found the ground. Everyone got silent.

"I can help," Nora finally broke the silence, "I worked in the kitchen, but there was a lift from our kitchen to the kitchens on each deck."

Emily looked from Nora to Gisella, "This could be our chance."

"I didn't see any other signs of life on this floor except for the gila... you guys hung?" Nora whispered.

"A trap we set. Glad it worked," the fourth member of the group finally spoke from the center of the room. A tall man, probably a soldier, Nora guessed based on his uniform. He had a sidearm strapped to his leg. A rifle and a large foreign looking weapon (that she'd soon learn was called the rock, because it did sort of resemble a rock) sat on the table in front of him. "Let's not waste any more time. Gather what you need everyone," he spoke again, not making eye contact with Nora.

The crew followed directions. Each of them collected themselves and then lined up by the door. Gisella gestured to the door at Nora. She moved across the room, cupping her wounded hand. "Lead the way, Nora."

Her lungs tightened with fear. After a moment, she nodded a short rigid nod. She pulled the door open and peered around the corner. Quiet. She crossed the dark hallway and slid to the corner. The crew posted up right behind her, the man with the rifle watching their backs.

Nora peered around the corner, the corpse of the gila still swaying at the intersection. A light flicked near the elevator, spitting sparks across the ground. They fluttered out on the bloody floor. She nodded again and rounded the corner. Subconsciously she stepped in her bloodied foot prints, knowing the floor was safe there. As she reached the gila she turned. Everyone followed, quietly in single-file.

Nora could feel her breath still tight in her lungs as they finally reached the door to the cafeteria. As the door closed behind the soldier, Nora stood upright from a hunched stance. Her heels pressed against the tile for the first time since the clinic. She led them across the disheveled cafeteria into the kitchen. The dark skinned man walked straight to the lift, sliding the door open. "It's big enough for one at a time."

"Is it loud?" Gisella asked Nora, with a short whisper.

"I don't think so. It wasn't loud when the kitchen was running, but... even breathing is loud now," Nora responded, hoping her answer was good enough.

"I can go first," the man answered as he began climbing into the cart. Once he tucked his knees to his chest, the soldier stepped up and handed over his sidearm. The soldier pressed the operation button, and the lift quietly started to rise. The crew watched him go.

The soldier turned to face them, "The three of you next, I'll go last. Gisella, you take the rock." She nodded and took the foreign looking weapon from the solider.

After a few more moments in silence the lift door opened again, empty. Gisella climbed in, putting the rock on her lap. She disappeared up to the next floor. Emily followed, and then finally Nora. She climbed into the car and looked passed the soldier to her hideaway. It had been her home, her safe place for so long that it felt strange to know that she'd never go inside again. Maybe someday, someone would find her little scratch marks and wonder about the person who'd left them.

The lift door opened on the next floor. Nora twisted and slid out, her bare feet touching the cold tile. The layout of the kitchen was the same, but heavy pots and pans littered the floor. There'd been a fire; the oven charred black. A burned corpse lay beside the door to the cafeteria. The blast door had shut and refused to open. The darknskinned man was busy with the mechanism to unlock the door. Emily sent the lift back down.

"Once outside of the cafeteria, we head straight to the other side of the ship. There's a blast door there. Once we're through it we set the rock, and then jump into the escape pod and we're home free for Shamble," Gisella said, sounding like she was holding her breath.

"How long is the hallway?" Emily whispered.

"About two-hundred meters..." a metal screeching came from the lift. All of their heads twisted to the sound. Two rifle shots fired off and then a scream echoed up the lift. Gisella pushed past everyone and stuck her head into the shaft. A giant claw entered the shaft, followed by the snout of one of the gilas.

Gisella turned her head to the man by the door, "do it!" she shouted. Startled, he pressed two wires together and the blast doors slammed open, shaking the pots on the floor. An alarm suddenly blared. "Run now," Gisella shouted as she grabbed Nora's arm and pulled her.

The crew sprinted at full speed across the cafeteria, bursting through the swinging door on the other side into the hallway. One of the gilas stood only a few feet away. They kept on straight, as it turned the corner to face them. It dropped to it's knee and held up a blaster of some kind and fired once. The energy blast slammed into the dark skinned man's back, incinerating him instantly. Charred flesh and bone slammed to the tile. Nora looked back, Gisella still dragging her.

"Come on," Gisella said, with tears running down her cheeks. All three women's lungs burned. The gila behind them fired again, missing. The blast struck the door they were running toward, blowing it off the hinges and setting it aflame. The alarm rang in their ears as they passed the red speakers on the walls every 50 feet.

Emily tripped on the bones of a crew members, crashing to the ground and rolling to a stop. Nora and Gisella stopped. "Take this," she said without hesitation, handing the rock to Nora. Gisella dropped to her knees to help Emily up, "Keep running, Nora."

Nora began running again. Her feet making wet slaps against the tile. She blew through one intersection when one of the creatures exploded out of a storefront in front of her on her left and into the storefront on her right, glass and metal impaling the walls and floor.

She tried not to stop, but glass began to dig into her bare feet. She fumbled with the pain until she tripped: first her knees, then her stomach and elbows until the rock bounced off the ground and began to glow green. She cried as she rolled onto her bruised hips. Her feet painted the floor in her own blood. She cried in pain. The gila climbed from the debris and began walking toward her. She tried to crawl, but everything hurt.

It towered over her, licking it's teeth. It's yellow eyes centered on her. It pulled back it's claw, ready to swipe across her tattered pants and bare lower legs.

A scream echoed off the walls, barely audible above the alarm. Gisella slammed knife into the ribs of the gila. The gila swung for Gisella, striking her and knocking her to the ground. While the gila tried to pull the knife from it's side, Emily ducked passed and grabbed Nora by the hands. She began dragging her, leaving a trail of smeared blood.

They passed through the blast door. Gisella pulled herself to the rock and locked eyes with Emily. Emily's tears blurred her vision as she stared at her friend. The blast door slammed shut. Emily dropped Nora and ran to the escape pod. Her fingertips slammed against the touch screen beside it until the doors opened. Nora dragged herself to the opening and inside. The sound of warping metal filled the air as both women turned to face the blast door. It glowed green and then suddenly a loud boom knocked Nora back. Her head slammed against the control panel.

- -

The pod shook hard. G-forces pinned Nora to the floor as her eyes tried to open. The remnants of a green explosion hung in space, swallowing the the center of the station. It grew smaller and smaller as flames engulfed the escape pod. Debris fell into the atmosphere with Nora's pod. She watched through the glass until the G-forces were too strong and she passed out.

She opened her eyes again sometime later. The door to the pod missing and the inside filled halfway with water, Nora sat up slowly. She breathed fresh air for the first time in months; the field around her pod littered with the burning debris of the space station.