“Marc?” a man said, piercing the high pitched wail reverberating through his head.

His ass was sore and his right leg went out at an odd angle. While his right thigh was numb, he could wiggle his toes and managed to straighten out his legs. 

Marc gave his head a shake in an attempt to clear out of cobwebs. When the ringing continued, he probed the inside of his ear canals as though expecting to find the bell. He clenched his jaw after realising that this ring would be him for a while yet.

“Merde,” Marc swore and was lucky that the Comte and Compress were nowhere to be seen.

Without thought, his right index finger transformed. The fingernail grew longer, darkened and hardened until it was a talon. He pressed it against the polymer, slicing through the material until the metal was exposed. 

The work would be tedious and time consuming, but he wanted to leave a physical record behind. If anything it would help him remember who he had once been if the beast within took control. It’s fortunate there are plenty of blood bags left at the station’s hospital.

After the first letter was carved into the wall, Marc smiled. His cheeks creaked as the frost broke off, which was horrifying enough. However his smile was entirely unnatural, like staring into the face of a man teetering on the edge of insanity.

“Her name was Jeanne,” Marc said.

“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.