Part 4

     Kevin moved through the halls, heading towards the bridge of the ship. As he went he avoided large clumps of mushroom spores that had some connection tot he creatures as well as sections of the hall where fire had burst through the floor. He passed a few partially eaten corpses of other crew members, some were armored like Fulsom had been, a few were wearing lab coats, and one was wearing a space suit, like she had been trying to protect herself from the spores. That plan had seemingly failed, since the glass on her helmet was closed, and there were mushrooms growing from her mouth. He gathered ammo where he could and thanked each of them for their contribution.

    A vague memory popped through: a voice telling him that the oxygen rich atmosphere would allow the fire to burn almost indefinitely. He wondered why the fire suppression system hadn't kicked in. He wondered who had told him this fact about the air.

    He saw only two more of the fungus creatures as he made his way to the bridge. Each was dealt with in a similar manner to the first: with too many bullets and a healthy amount of abject terror. He ondered how the creatures had gotten aboard, assuming that no one in their right mind would be stupid enough to bring them on purposefully. They had far too many teeth to be considered safe.

    When he made it to the bridge doors, they were closed and had red lights on their indicators. He couldn't force the door open like he had in the med bay, though he attempted to for far longer than he would care to admit. He attempted the keypad by the door, to no avail. His scattered memory had no insights here. He even attempted knocking on the door, and to his utter belief, nothing happened.

    As he was about to lose hope and attempt to find answers in engineering, monsters be damned, he noticed an air vent that he had a sneaking suspicion that he would be able to fit into. He used his axe to open the panel, the pulled his pistol and snapped on the light. Leaning down and looking into the vent, he had his most terrible thought to memory: what if the toothy monstrosities were in the vents? Brushing that thought aside, Kevin mustered all his courage and made his way inside. He was sure that the vent would lead the bridge... Probably...

    He began his crawl, gun forward, light up. There were twists and turns, and enough cobwebs that he was sure he was covered in a thousand actual spiders. The flashlight dissolved into a single point of light. His vision hyper-focused on that point. His breathing started to turn shallow and quick. The walls started to close in. How could he have thought this was a good idea? He slammed his eyes shut and made his first rational thought. Crawl! He clambered forward, bumping his head and scraping his elbows and knees. It hurt, and he smashed his face at least four times. Why are there so many turns?

    He smashed his face once more, feeling a new sensation against his forehead. A grate. He opened his eyes and smashed the grate with the butt of the pistol. Twice. Three times. Then finally on the fourth hit it gave way. He pushed his way out and gasped in lung-fulls of sweet, albeit recycled air. He stared up at the ceiling as his swimming field of vision cleared up and his breathing and heartrate returned themselves to normal levels. He now knew something about himself: he was claustrophobic.