The closet smelled like cleaning solvent and old rags. Chen pressed herself against the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible, as if she could somehow become invisible through sheer force of will.
"How many?" Amira whispered. "How many are left?"
"Us," Webb answered. "Just us."
Three people in a closet, hiding from a monster. It would have been funny if it weren't so terrifying.
"We can't stay here," Chen said. "It'll find us. It finds everyone."
"Then what do you suggest?" Webb's voice was harsh with fear and grief. "There are three of us and one of it. We've seen what it can do."
"We fight."
"With what? Cleaning supplies?"
Chen looked around the closet. Mops. Brooms. Buckets. Bottles of industrial cleaner. And there, on a high shelf, a welding torch.
"With that."
She climbed up, grabbed the torch, and checked the fuel gauge. Three-quarters full. Enough to burn through hull plating, if applied correctly. Enough to burn through a lot of things.
"Amira, can you get to the bridge from here?"
"Through the maintenance shafts, maybe. But—"
"Do it. Webb and I will draw its attention. You get to the bridge and send a distress signal. Full emergency. Tell them what happened here. Tell them to destroy this ship if they have to."
"I can't just leave you—"
"You can and you will." Chen's voice was steady now, calm in a way that surprised her. "Someone has to tell the story. Someone has to make sure they know what's out here."
Amira hesitated, then nodded. She slipped out of the closet and disappeared into the maintenance shaft, her small frame barely disturbing the dust.
Webb looked at Chen. "You know we're probably going to die."
"Probably." She hefted the torch. "But maybe we can make it hurt first."
They moved out together, back into the ship's blood-soaked corridors.