ESCAPE FROM MARS Read online

  ESCAPE FROM MARS

  G. T. APPLETON

  Distant Moon Publishing

  Copyright © 2017 by G.T. APPLETON

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  ESCAPE FROM MARS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  ESCAPE FROM MARS

  by

  G.T. APPLETON

  Copyright © 2017 G.T. APPLETON

  Distant Moon Publishing

  All Rights Reserved

  1

  Deimos Moon Life Station

  Death crept silently through the stainless steel corridors inside the Deimos Life Station. Disease was his breath and decay, his fragrance.

  Dr. Frank Carter sat at his desk, speaking into the life station computer microphone, recording his final log. His wavy black hair was unkempt, and he needed to shave. Weary, he spoke with little emotion, almost in a monotone.

  “We had no compassion for the dying; no remorse for the dead. Their deaths had ended the burning torment pulsing through their diseased bodies.”

  His voice crackled. Dr. Carter paused and sipped some bottled water. He lingered for a few moments to gather his composure and rubbed his tired eyes. Finally, he cleared his throat to continue his report. “We called it an alien virus, but we were the aliens. We’re the invaders. The virus was the only response Deimos had to rid itself of us, its human infestation.”

  Carter sighed. “Computer, end recording.”

  “Yes, Dr. Carter,” the computer replied.

  Carter stood and grabbed his stainless steel briefcase. Glancing around the lab, he found himself overwhelmed. Silhouetted memories from when the room had been filled with other scientists and nurses played in his mind. He could almost still see them interacting. For a few moments he fought the building emotions welling inside, and then his gaze rested upon the picture on his desk. He sickened from the loss and heartbreak. His knees weakened.

  Carter’s eyes softened and heated with tears. His chest muscles constricted, making breathing difficult. A lump formed in his throat that made swallowing nearly impossible. His loss was too difficult for him to accept. He doubted the pain would ever lessen.

  He picked up the picture frame and his hands shook. Frozen in time, from the previous New Year’s Eve party, was his nurse and lover, Wanda Myers. She was seated beside him. Confetti and balloons fell in the background. They smiled broadly, clicking their champagne glasses while they gazed lovingly into one another’s eyes. She had been the one, he remembered. The one he’d love forever.

  He loved how her blue eyes had sparkled whenever she laughed, and that night he’d never seen her happier. Hell, he’d never been happier than when that photo had been taken. But a few days afterwards tragedy struck and their world crumbled around them. Every plan, hope, and dream they had shared was gone.

  “I’m so sorry, Wanda,” Carter said. “If I could go back and stop it, I would.”

  Wanting to hold her, to kiss her again, he set the picture back on the desk and turned it face down. His chest hurt. His heartbeat increased. Never had he ached inside like this. He took several deep breaths to prevent himself from having another anxiety attack. His mind raced back to several days earlier when the unexpected catastrophe had struck the moon station, killing all the inhabitants . . . except him.

  Three Days Earlier:

  Wearing a yellow HazMat suit with a micro breathing apparatus, Dr. Carter stepped into the infirmary. Sheet-draped corpses occupied fifteen beds and these lined the far wall. At another bed, Wanda sat beside an infected female patient.

  The sick woman’s tired eyes searched the room. She seemed disoriented, not really seeing what was happening around her. Or so he had thought. When she noticed him, her gaze held the slightest question of hope.

  Carter walked over to them. Wanda looked up, and Carter forced a tired smile. Through the thick plastic faceguard of her HazMat suit, she smiled back, but her eyes revealed her saddened horror at having to watch another patient and colleague die.

  Carter sat on a stool beside the patient’s bed, took a syringe, and thumped the side until all the air bubbles drifted to the top. He pushed some of the liquid through the needle to expunge the collected air bubbles, not that the precaution was necessary or even mattered at this stage of the disease. Death was inevitable.

  The patient gave him a weak glance, opening her mouth to speak, but no sound exited. Her empty gaze now reflected the loss of any hope she might have had left. Yellow lesions blistered her purple-mottled skin. Carter injected the needle into a swollen vein in the woman’s arm.

  “What did you give her?” Wanda asked.

  “Potassium cyanide.”

  “What?” Wanda’s eyes widened. “That will kill her.”

  Carter replied, “She’s dead anyway. We all are. At least she won’t suffer like the others did.”

  She frowned. Her blue eyes fixed onto his. “You mean these Hazmat suits won’t protect us?”

  He started to speak, but then his eyes widened and sadness claimed them.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Yellow blisters welted on her cheeks. He wanted to tell her she’d be okay, that everything would work out, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. The evidence in the room proved otherwise. Sixteen corpses. Once the blisters formed, death followed within hours. />
  Wanda stood. Perspiration beaded her furrowed brow. Her blonde hair was soaked with sweat. “We’re going to be okay, right? The suits . . . they’ll protect us?”

  “No,” Carter said, shaking his head. “The virus had already circulated through the ventilation system before we ever suited up.”

  “So we’re infected, too?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” he said, refusing to make eye contact. “Incinerating the dead bodies was the best precaution we had, but we had already been exposed.”

  “Have you contacted Boyd Grayson in California about the outbreak?”

  “What’s the point?”

  “To help us find a cure.”

  Carter shook his head. “There is no cure. I’ve tried all of the antibiotics and antivirals we have, and even the strongest steroids to help boost their immune systems. Nothing has aided the patients at all. Nothing. Not even momentarily. Whatever this retrovirus is, it’s vicious. It’s more dangerous than HIV and spreads through the body more rapidly than Ebola. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I know. But Grayson might have suggestions or he can contact scientists that might be able to unscramble the DNA structure of this virus.”

  “Our welfare on Deimos has never been Grayson’s primary concern. The gem mines on Deimos and Mars are his top priority.” Carter stood and pulled a sheet over the dead patient. “We’re not worth any more than the dead rats in our laboratory.”

  Tears crested in Wanda’s eyes. “You’re probably right.”

  Carter’s jaw tightened. The gentleness of his eyes blazed with sudden anger. “You know I’m right. The Deimos Life Station and the Olympus Mons settlements are that madman’s dream. His greed is what has killed us.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. Instinct brought her gloved hand to the protective face shield of her HazMat suit as though she’d cover her mouth with her hand.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Horrified, she pointed. “Your face.”

  Carter ran to the sink and looked into the mirror. Yellow lesions blistered his cheeks. Sweat beaded his brow and dripped from his damp black hair. He yanked off the helmet.

  “No!” she gasped.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore, Wanda,” he said, examining his face in the mirror. “I’m going to die. You’re going to die. It’s useless.”

  Wanda unzipped her helmet and flipped it back. “I feel sick.”

  She collapsed to her knees and vomited on the floor. Seconds later, she fell to her side and desperately extended her hand toward him.

  “Please, help me,” she said.

  Staring into the mirror, Carter noticed her lying on the floor. Tears filled his eyes. He turned, grabbed another syringe of potassium cyanide, and knelt beside her.

  “Please, Frank,” she whispered, “help me. I love you. Please.”

  Carter sat on the floor and cradled her head on his lap. He plunged the needle into her jugular and squeezed the poison into her bloodstream. Her eyes revealed her sudden surprise and terror. Her expressions indicated nothing less than complete betrayal. He rubbed and caressed her cheek until her breathing stopped.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Carter stood, picked her up, and carried her to an empty bed. After he set her down, he gently kissed her forehead.

  “If I survive this,” he said, “Grayson will pay with his life for what has happened.”

  A couple of hours later, Carter placed Wanda’s body onto the roller tray in the incinerator. After kissing her cold lips, he shoved the tray into the furiously hot flames. Still sick and weak from the virus, he struggled to close the heavy door. When he finally sealed the door shut, he pushed a button and the fire roared louder.

  He turned and headed out the door with her I.D. badge clenched inside his fist. Suffering from intense vertigo, he leaned against the wall as he walked until he finally reached his office. He held her badge and glanced at it. Through blurred vision, he stared at her photo. He took her badge and staggered to his desk. Frustrated and filled with regret, he tossed her badge on the desktop with fifty-five other badges.

  At the computer, he touched the screen and brought up the staff list of former life station occupants. Next to Wanda Myers’ name, he clicked, “Deceased.”

  Carter grabbed a vial, a new syringe, and sat on the edge of a bed. He withdrew 2 ccs of potassium cyanide. Tears streamed down his face. Angered, he seethed, “Grayson, I wish I could inject this into you and watch you die. Suicide’s never been an option I’d ever have considered before, but I refuse to suffer like the rest of them have.”

  Resting his elbow on his upper thigh, he steadied the needle to insert it into a thick vein. The doors at the side of the room hissed open.

  “What the—?”

  No one else remained alive inside of the Deimos Life Station. He was the sole survivor, or at least, that was what he had thought. He was too weak to fight or run. His tired eyes tried to register what was standing before him.

  Right inside the doors was a short, dark-skinned female alien. Her sleek olive skin was unblemished. Her large oval eyes held no emotion. Telepathically, she said, “I can heal you.”

  Surprised and too weak to protest, he dropped the syringe. It bounced and clattered across the silver floor. She moved stealthily toward him, almost gliding, but his shock subsided. She seemed peaceful, and if she could actually heal him, he’d willingly let her.

  Her hands were odd. Each had three long, slender fingers. Her mesmerizing eyes were black like obsidian. He felt comfort in her gaze, almost hypnotized by the endless blackness that reflected his image and the room around him. The alien eased him back onto the bed. His body grew limp. Her touch held warmth, which surprised him since her scaly skin almost looked reptilian.

  She undressed him, but no expressions crossed her face. His skin was covered with yellow pus-filled lesions. He wanted to cover himself with a sheet because his own appearance mortified him. When he looked up, his eyes stared immediately into hers. Strangely, he found comfort there. He didn’t resist and gave into her will and her desires.

  Carter had never felt such repulsion and exotic pleasures at the same time. But the price to survive was worth this humiliation. He’d sacrifice almost anything to survive the virus so he could seek his revenge.

  He attempted to think of the happier times because he didn’t want her to read his thoughts and perhaps offend her. With her ability to speak to his mind, she was probably able to discern his thoughts as well.

  Closing his eyes, he thought about Wanda before the virus had infected her. He tried to imagine that he was having sex with her instead of the alien, which brought him some added comfort.

  The alien caressed his face for several moments. Her touch soothed him, making his mind lighten into an ecstasy dreamlike state. Then she interlocked her three-fingered hands with his fingers and straddled him. When he opened his eyes, no pain or pleasure showed on her face. While she slowly rode him, he wondered if she desired to have a child that merged their species, or perhaps she wanted to form a new race to kill Grayson’s human invasion into her realm of space. He didn’t know what her intentions were, as she never disclosed her reasons, but he didn’t care. He only wanted to live.

  The alien placed her six fingers against his temples. Her fingertips glowed. Warmth flowed through him. His body relaxed, and she climbed off.

  When Carter opened his eyes and gazed into hers, she spoke into his mind. “The plague can no longer harm you. You are immune.”

  “How can I repay you?” he asked.

  “Kill Boyd Grayson. Make him suffer like these have suffered.”

  “With the virus?”

  She nodded. With a gentle touch of her fingers, she caressed his cheeks. “Sleep. When you awaken, you’ll become stronger and more vigilant.”

  When Carter awoke the next morning, the alien was not to be seen. He listened carefully for sounds. But silence inside a space station was never absolute. It wasn’t a
vacuum, void of noise. The fluorescent lights hummed. The ventilation system hissed softly. A thermostat clicked, moments before heat susurrated through the vents. He rose and did a quick search of the laboratories, offices, and sick bays, but he found no sign of her.

  As she had promised, he was stronger and more mentally alert. The lesions and his fever were gone. Since she had healed him, he swore he’d carry out her mission to kill Boyd Grayson. After all, it was the least he could do, and he had also promised Wanda, too. Grayson needed to pay for the deaths of the doctors, nurses, and prisoners who had died inside the Deimos Life Station.

  One vial of the virus was enough to kill everyone inside Grayson Enterprises on Earth. Carter took two.

  He gently packed the two vials labeled, Deimos Virus, into a foamed-lined stainless steel briefcase. He took the New Year’s Eve picture off his desk and walked down the cold silver-walled corridor that led to the landing bay where the shuttle was parked.