Nothing was out there.

Then he switched areas by downloading live feeds from the starboard bay. Air Force Six sat in its glory, a behemoth of a ship with a modified fuselage and sleek Delta wings. The level was quiet, and the interior lights shone brightly through the windows of the shuttlecraft.

Schott zoomed in from other angles, capturing the ship.

Something was wrong, different.

The windows had been smashed in, including the cockpit window. The ship had been completely compromised and incapable of space flight.

But where was the pilot?

He continued to examine the ship from every angle that was provided him through the eyes of multiple lenses. The only telltale image of what had happened to the pilot was on a camera that was able to zoom in on the pilot's cabin of the cockpit.

Streaks and splashes of blood canvased the walls. Pulp and gore, most notably a garland of intestine, was draped over the seat.

Schott fell back from the computer, sucking in breath. With a quick stab of his finger he shut off the computer, a hard stop, and fell to his knees, then cradled his stomach, sobbing.

He was going to die here, he thought. Surrounded by the beauty of the universe-

and hordes of the undead.

The severed hand was still clutching the wrench when Eriq crouched down to examine it further. Sheena, with her fisted hands to her mouth, watched along with everyone else.

Eriq immediately recognized the coloring of the fingernails, a metallic gold with silver flexes. It was a hand that belonged to Jen Jacoby, who was not in the comm center.

"It's Jen's," he whispered. Or maybe he should have said 'It was Jen,' referring to her as a whole rather than a piece.

"So what do we do now?" asked Senator Hines. "We can't stay here. We have to get to Air Force Six!"

"Not before we see what's out there," he said.

Eriq went to the computer, which was already in the 'on' position but in 'sleep' mode. The moment he tapped the keyboard, all nine monitors flared to life.

"Oh my God," stated Hines. Senator Newel seconded the motion by parroting her, though he substituted the word 'God' with 'Lord.'

On every level shadowy figures moved quickly about, leaping from one position to the next as if springs were embedded in their heels.

"Who are they?" asked Lisa Millette. Unlike her mother, who was strong in will and strength right up until a bullet took her life, she was not, the girl breaking down the moment the last word left her lips.

Eriq didn't reply. Instead he played the cameras to get clear fixes, thinking: You mean, what are they?

There were hundreds leaping about on a single level. Perhaps thousands throughout the ship.

Worse, it was sixteen levels to the salvation of the shuttlecraft.

"Mr. Wyman?" It was the president. "What do we do? Where do we go?"

Eriq didn't know.

"Mr. Wyman, I believe you were once a leading member of the Force Elite, correct?"

Eriq turned to him, readying himself for the president's point.

"Am I correct?" the president reiterated.

"Yes."

"Then as a member of the Force Elite, you should know what to do."

Eriq turned back to the keyboard and began to type in a set of new orders.

"What are you doing?" asked Michelin.