Jackma still remembers the screams, gunfire, and horrifying laughter echoing in the staff dormitory area.
But for him, the worst thing is cold. Only when their breath leaves his mouth and nose, it will turn into mist and take away precious warmth.
Obviously, the life-saving system of the space station is gradually being paralyzed.
Jackma is not a doctor, but he knows they can't live one more night in the space station.
Those killers, whatever they are, may want to force the surviving living people out of their hiding place.
It may also be that they are tired of hunting and just want to freeze the rest to death in hiding places.
None of the two ideas are very comfortable.
"Have you heard it?"
Jack Horse whispered,
Some kind of metal product hits the metal in front of them.
The three of them stopped at the same time, and three beams of light swept forward the corridor.
But there was nothing, just an empty corridor, but the creaking sound was still sounding.
"That movement...is a turbo ventilator."
Dimo, who used to be a water pipe repairman, whispered:
“Just a ventilator.”
Jackma turned around and avoided the man's wide eyes and the stinking stench on the other person's body.
"Are you sure?"
"It's just a ventilation fan. That's what I think. I often come to check this area."
Dimo's voice was trembling like his hands.
“I’ve worked in those pipes and I know the sounds they make.”
"Then let's go."
They carried out exaggerated cautious actions and knew very little about what the killers could feel.
Only Dimo had seen the killer, and he saw it the most clearly, but he refused to say it. Michelle, the cleaner behind the trio, claimed that he could see it clearly than Dimo, but there were still not many clues - the white skull and huge red eyes, which they knew.
In fact, Jackma knew that Michelle had run away before he could see anything, and rushed in through a repair hatch, panting down the crawling tunnel, and the others were scrambled behind him.
Of course Jackma himself is not far away. He has been stuck in the smallest passage since the first time he heard the attacker's landing report, while others kept sweeping the food cabin or plundering battery packs in the warehouse, but then they all died, and only the most cautious Jackma survived.
"It's too cold, we have to move and then pray that there's still heat left in the other areas of the space station."
Jackma also considered giving up and lying in a narrow crawling space where the ground hole was repairing, and letting Frost take him away, so things would be much easier - he might not rot after his death.
At least not until the heat exchanger is restarted...
But he still couldn't accept the corruption stain that made himself a steel.
The three of them arrived at the next intersection, and Jackma stopped again and tried his best to listen to his heartbeat.
Then, he began to move along the passage on his left hand.
“That’s a dead end.”
Jackma heard Dimo sigh, but the other person said nothing.
"This is the way to the cafeteria."
He explained in a gentle voice as much as possible:
"We need supplies, and now is not the time to argue. If the attackers are satisfied, they may leave, and we have to struggle to survive in a cold space station, and food is necessary."
"But that's not the way to the cafeteria, the cafeteria is on the left."
Dimo pointed to the corridor opposite.
“There is a lead to the eastern technical deck.”
Jackma shook his head and denied the other party's statement.
“Not.”
"I've been here several times!"
Dimo's voice became louder and louder, with a kind of resentment.
"We should go here."
As they argued, the nearby ventilation fans continued to make a slow click.
"Go away quickly."
Michelle said to Jackma:
"Stop worrying about him."
"No, don't, I'll come here now, don't leave me behind."
"Then let the sound down."
Jackma said gently, not sure if this would really affect it.
“So too.”
Jackma led them forward and went to another left turn.
There was another long corridor ahead, and then they turned right cautiously.
But suddenly, Jackma froze at the turn, reluctantly aiming the flashlight along the corridor at the entrance to the double-layer bulkhead of the canteen.
"No……"
His voice was soft and powerless, and he couldn't even speak whispers.
"What's wrong?"
Dimo asked quietly, but Jackma simply narrowed his tingling eyes, allowing the beam to flash around the shattered porch.
The joint of the bulkhead fell off, and a messy mess of ragged metal was pulled off from the wall.
"Not good."
He murmured:
"Those bastards have been here."
“They are everywhere.”
Michelle almost sighed.
The three of them stood in the biting cold and shivered, and the beam of the flashlight weakened with the trembling hands.
"Let's go."
Finally, Jackma made up his mind.
"Go quietly."
As they approached the damaged door, Dimo sniffed the air.
"I smelled something."
Jackma then took a breath slowly, too, the air was cold enough to burn his lungs with ice, but he couldn't smell anything damn except the wet metal and his own stinking.
"I didn't smell, what?"
"Spices, broken spices... seem to be mixed with something? It's blood, the taste of blood!"
Jackma turned back from Dimo's trembling eyes, needless to say, the other party was now broken.
He could only make the first turn, tiptoed to the torn door, and looked around the huge cabin in the red light like a sirens, all the real details were shrouded in darkness.
Dozens of tables were overturned and thrown everywhere in a mess. The dark walls were dented by gunfire, and the ground was scattered with chairs - undoubtedly, this was a useless barricade wreck.
However, there were corpses, piles of corpses lying on the table and on the ground, spreading their limbs and covered with frost. The eyes that were opened were flashing with the light of ice crystals, and the blood stains under them turned into a strange and beautiful red jade glass pool.
But at least, nothing is moving.
Behind him, Michelle also raised the flashlight to shine in.
As the darkness separates in front of the flashlight, many things that emergency lighting cannot be displayed.
"Divine Emperor, what's going on?"
Seeing the terrifying slaughterhouse, Michelle immediately lowered the flashlight.
"You stay here."
Jackma turned his head and said.
"Don't run around, don't make a sound. I'll take out the supplies, and then we'll go to the infirmary to see where there are the best closed measures and there are independent small oxygen makers, so we might be able to handle it."
He walked into the cafeteria, his boots creaked on the red glass splashed with frozen blood, and his breath was like a ball of white mist that gradually dissipated as he moved in the dim light.
Although it is not easy to keep a distance from the corpse, Jackma still tries not to touch them, but occasionally he can't help but take a look.