This story is an unofficial story based, without permission, on the Warhammer/Warhammer 40,000 intellectual property owned by Games Workshop Ltd.
Bautista slammed the morgue door hard with his right shoulder. Finally, the lock snapped and the door swung open with a creak. It was late now, everything in town was closed. The streets were empty. But Inquisitor Ricci had insisted to inspect the morgue.
Raising his flashlight in one hand and his las-pistol in the other, Bautista nodded to Stephenson, as Rostislav and Rafferty raised their weapons, the small igniter-flame on Rostislav's weapon going live, and Rafferty racking the slide on his shotgun loudly.
Stephenson racked her own as Inquisitor Ricci produced a small, stub-nosed revolver and cocked back the hammer, following his men up the steps. The rest of the Arbites had been dismissed by Stephenson, with the Inquisitor's consent, and gone home for the night.
"Major Bautista, if you will..." Ricci rasped, gesturing to the door.
Bautista nodded, raising his head to look out over the fields one last time. Two pale, silver moons hung over them, casting a grim white light over the yellow wheat, black in the Salarnos night. The fields were dark. A sense of foreboding wormed its way through the back of Bautista's mind.
Bautista's flashlight cast a harsh white light over the Morgue as he stepped in, his black combat boots clicking against the white tiles of the floor. The steps of the others clicked behind him. Pushing through door past the reception desk, Bautista's flashlight passed over grim instruments of autopsy, resting in bright silver tins of metal. On the far end of the short corridor, a secondary door sat ajar. Moving his flashlight down towards the floor, Bautista's beam of light revealed a smear of dark, almost black, blood along the floor.
Ricci saw it to, stepping forward and bending over and picking up a bit in his fingers, examining it;
"It's coagulated. Rostislav."
The big man stepped forward, firing a tiny jet of flame onto the blood, burning it. Ricci opened the door more fully. The stream of blood continued into the darkness;
"Bautista."
The major nodded silently, moving forward and panning with his flashlight. As he revealed a longer and longer stream of blood, Rostislav would light it aflame.
Then, almost imperceptibly, a low groaning.
Bautista shook it off;
"The wind. Its just the wind," he thought to himself. But who was he trying to convince?
Then, again. Longer. A groan. Longer, and too close to be the wind, which was outside. Bautista looked to Stephenson, she swallowed silently.
"James?" She whispered.
"Yes?"
"What exactly does the Inquisitor believe is to be found here?"
"Uhh...that."
Around the corner, came a tall woman, clad in the white coat that was the tell tale sign of an Officio Medicae doctor. Her skin was gray and covered in sweat. Her raven hair hung in clumps around her. One of her eyes was gone, clearly ripped out of her skull. Coagulated blood hung around the wound like some dark window dressing.
"Say good night, babe." Rafferty spoke again. That thick slur.
The shotgun blast tore into the creature's face, knocking her over in a storm of brains and bits of skull. Wordlessly, as always, Rostislav lit the corpse up, covering it in flaming kerosene.
"By the power vested in me by the Holy Inquisition, I declare thee extremis diabolus, and so carry out your due sentence. I commend thy soul unto the hands of His Most Holy Majesty, the Immortal God-Emperor of Mankind, King of Terra, and One True Lord of the Imperium, for judgment. May He have mercy on thy soul." Ricci's words broke the silence of the flames. Bautista and Stephenson just watched, horrified.
"Oh, Throne! Mister Bee!?" Stephenson asked, reeling, her lips curling in horror.
The old man shambled forwards, what was left of his plaid shirt hanging in tatters around him. A series of deep bite marks covered his chest and abdomen, and long strings of abdomen hung out of his waist. He was staring directly as Bautista, a look of unholy starvation in his eyes.
It was at that moment that Major James de la Bautista's mood changed from horror to rage. He wouldn't let whatever horror Chaos had sent to his world take it from him. He wouldn't let the Emperor's light be snuffed out.
Raising his las-pistol, Bautista punched a single round through what was once Mr. Bee's throat. Blowing chunks of his spinal cord against the far all and sending the creature reeling back, before it was engulfed in a cloud of flame from Rostislav.
"How many more can we expect them to be?" Bautista asked the Inquisitor.
"There were markings for three corpses at the scene. That leaves two more, in addition to any staff that may be here."
Maria Stephenson screamed, as James whirled.
A plague zombie in the uniform of a delivery officer from the local starport had ripped a chunk out of her neck.
"Oh God-Emperor!" Bautista cried, raising his las-pistol.
Ricci beat him to it, pumping two slugs into the creature's exposed right temple, sending it careening to the floor.
Maria followed it, shrieking and clutching at the wound in her neck. Bautista rushed to her;
"Oh lord, you're bitten badly. There has to be some gauze and bandages around here. I'll wrap you up, we can get you to a hospital. The Medicae will know what to do."
Grimacing, Maria's breathing evened out, as she nodded, clearly in pain.
A foot stepped down behind Bautista. He turned his face upwards. Rafferty, Rostislav, and Ricci stood over him. Their weapons were aimed at Maria Stephenson. The hammer of Ricci's revolver clicked loudly.
"Step aside, Major."
"Inquisitor?"
"Step aside, Major. Or you'll die as well."
"What? Inquisitor, what are you doing?"
"Miss Stephenson is already dead. She has been bitten. She will die within the hour, and rise again as one of those creatures. Step aside."
"What!?!" Maria shrieked. Tears ran down her face as she stared at the Inquisitor's old, weathered, face. A look of tremendous sadness was engraved upon it.
"I recommend you step aside, guy," Rafferty said.
Bautista looked at Maria for a moment. Her eyes were filled with fear. He got up, and stepped back.
"No! No! No! James, I've known you all our lives, what are you doing? You can't believe them! You can't!"
Rostislav bent down and relieved her of her shotgun.
"By the power vested in me by the Holy Inquisition, I declare thee extremis diabolus, and so carry out your due sentence. I commend thy soul unto the hands of His Most Holy Majesty, the Immortal God-Emperor of Mankind, King of Terra, and One True Lord of the Imperium, for judgment. May He have mercy on thy soul."
"No! No! Nooo!"
A gunshot rang out in the dark night. The screaming of Sergeant Maria Stephenson was abruptly ended. Then, the whoosh of a flamer. The stink of burning flesh. James de la Bautista would never forget that part. The stink of her burning flesh. The last accusing stare in her eyes. The stink of burning flesh.
Hive World Terra