“Laid to rest in the family crypt centuries ago,” Marc said.

Although, that line was not entirely true. That statement applies perfectly well to the Compte and Comptess, it did not to his mother. 

“I have not thought of her in years,” Marc said. 

His mother had been his first lesson in the injustices of this world. Notably the cruelty that came with nobility, the affluent, or the elite. A snake by any other name is just as venomous…

As he approached the bulkhead the overhead lighting reflected his face onto the surface. Other than the frost covering his entire body, he looked no worse for wear, but that would change with time. I’ve been feeding well of late. 

Those dark brown eyes stared back at him, giving him a view of his olive skin and wavy black hair. He had a sharp nose, chiselled jaw and the body of a strongman of old. If it was not for his short stature, shorter than the average woman, Marc would have been quite handsome. 

In spite of being physically in his early twenties, his height confused many he came across. He had been asked on multiple occasions which school he was attending, and in one situation was asked where his parents were. 

“Laid to rest in the family crypt centuries ago,” Marc said.

He stood up from one of the bunks, his knees creaking from the joins having frozen. He might have been a vampire, but even he could freeze if temperatures got low enough. For now he could deal with the discomfort while he waited. 

The man weaved slowly past the bodies, keeping his eyes focused on the large white bulkhead ahead. For centuries time had been on his side, endless and entirely irrelevant to his existence. Now the sands of time were beginning to run low… soon that last grain would run through to the bottom.

The thought of meeting his end was in itself comforting. The idea of being stuck alone in an orbiting space station for eternity would have driven him insane. I can’t not think of a worse way to go… alive but mindless…

The bunks reminded him of coffins with the side panel removed. Emergency shelters were designed for function not luxury. At the centre of the back wall there was a door that led to a small kitchen and bathrooms. Whereas on the forward bulkhead was the sealed entrance.

Most of the bodies had once been a part of the middle class, doctors, nurses, teachers, and security personnel. They were caught in the crossfire.

Death was the ultimate equaliser, men and women, rich and poor, young and old. Everyone here had succumbed to the effects of an atmosphere they poisoned by breathing.

“Finding their way to a shelter did nothing for these souls,” Marc said in a voice devoid entirely of emotion.