ESCAPE FROM MARS Read online

  Drool dripped from Cain’s mouth. He shook his head. Magnus formed a fist and pounded the man in the center of his back several times. Cain took in another sharp breath, panted, took another breath, and finally, his breathing started to stabilize.

  “See?” Magnus said. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “You son of a bitch,” Cain said between breaths. He forced himself to his feet and scrambled for the gun that lay a few feet away.

  Before Cain picked up the gun, Magnus tackled him. Cain groaned. In spite of Magnus’ massive size and weight that pinned Cain to the floor, Cain continued to reach for the gun.

  “Get . . . off . . . me,” Cain said.

  “Afraid I can’t do that, sir,” Magnus said.

  Cain stretched his arm until his fingers touched the butt of the laser pistol. Magnus slapped the gun away. It spun across the floor and skidded to the edge of the bunk. In desperation, Cain swung his elbow and almost struck Magnus in the jaw.

  Magnus shook his head. “I can see there’s no point trying to reason with you.”

  “You’re a prisoner. I have no desire to discuss anything with you. Now, get the hell off!”

  Cain struggled to work free of Magnus’ incredible grip but wasn’t successful. Cain’s eyes stared past Magnus and then Cain smiled.

  “My gun’s there,” Cain stammered. “By the bed.”

  Magnus glanced over his shoulder and noticed Matt slowly trying to stand.

  “I tried to help you,” Magnus said. “You probably would have died if I hadn’t.”

  “Hurry, Matt!”

  Magnus shook his head. His huge fist came down and knocked Cain unconscious. Magnus rolled and came to his feet before Matt fully gained his balance.

  “Sorry about this,” Magnus said, staring into Matt’s frightened eyes. Magnus swung a hard right, and Matt slumped down to the floor a second time. Magnus shook his fist from the pain and grimaced.

  Digger cautiously crept from beneath the bed and chattered.

  “Sorry you had to see that, Digger.”

  Magnus grabbed Matt by the ankles and dragged his body into the small shower stall.

  “Damn,” he said. “So much for taking a hot shower.”

  He returned and took Cain by the shoulders and pulled him into the bathroom. Since Cain was the larger of the two guards, Magnus stripped off the man’s uniform. Even though Cain was larger than Matt, Cain was still much smaller than Magnus.

  Magnus slipped into the coverall uniform and zipped up the front. The uniform was tight but manageable. Searching through the front pouch pockets, he found a set of handcuffs and the security key card for the doors. He searched the other guard’s pockets and removed his set of cuffs. After several minutes, he managed to place the two men back to back and cuffed their hands together. He stuffed their mouths with socks.

  Even if they awakened, they’d have a nearly impossible time of maneuvering to get out of the tiny shower, so they couldn’t get to the door. He hoped that gave him enough time to find a way back to Earth, which seemed quite an impossible feat in itself.

  Magnus ran water in the sink, soaked a towel, and quickly washed the mud and grime from his face, neck, hands, and arms. Removing the dirt from the most visible areas prevented someone from readily concluding that he was an escaped miner. He paused for a moment while he washed the thick red dirt from the sides of his neck. Turning his head slightly to the left, he noticed the slight bulge at the base of his skull. He ran a finger across it. A Sleeper Chip. According to the two guards, his had malfunctioned, which explained why he was awake and no longer a mental prisoner to the control devices the guards carried.

  Thinking about the man that had flung himself into the mining pit, he wondered why he had not undergone a similar fate. And why, he wondered, had it taken the guards two days to realize that his chip had stopped working?

  He shrugged and quickly washed away more of the Martian soil. He reached to turn off the water and noticed his grimy fingers. No guard’s hands were this filthy. All it took was for one person to notice the reddish muck that coated his hands and fingers to draw immediate suspicion. He couldn’t deny that he was a miner. The evidence damned him.

  Magnus stuck his hands under the faucet. The cool water stung his cracked skin and the runny blisters. Even his fingernails ached when he allowed the water to break away the grit from beneath them. In spite of the pain, he washed away as much dirt and grime as possible. After drying his hands, he examined them. The swollen cuts and blisters needed some antibacterial ointment, but he didn’t know where he might find it.

  Glancing back toward the shower, Magnus realized he needed to hurry. Time was not a factor in his favor. Eventually guards or supervisors would start looking for these two bound incapacitated guards. He didn’t have many options and very little time to act.

  Although the area outside Olympus Mons was undergoing terraformation by the introduction of hardy plants capable of adapting to the Martian environment, the terrain was still too harsh for humans to survive without wearing habitat spacesuits. The oxygen levels weren’t high enough to travel without an oxygen pack, which greatly limited the distance one could travel outside Olympus Mons. And food? Nothing was edible on the planet except for packaged processed foods. Once he left the mines, access to the food packets was gone.

  Magnus picked up Digger. “Come on. We can’t stay in here.”

  Digger tilted his head and looked at him.

  “How should I know where we’ll go?” he asked. “You know the corridors better than I do.”

  Magnus took Cain’s helmet off the floor and squeezed it down over his head. It was too tight, but he had to disguise himself the best he could. Before Magnus swiped the key card to open the door, he noticed his reflection on the thick glass. He looked ridiculous. The uniform was tighter than he imagined, and should he happen to approach another guard, he was certain to be stopped and questioned about the size of his uniform.

  The snug sleeves pinched into his biceps whenever he tried to bend his arms. One wrong move and he’d probably split the seams along his shoulders, down his arms, and across his chest. He tried holding in his muscled stomach, but even that didn’t help.

  Magnus swiped the key card and the door hissed open. Before stepping out into the corridor, he looked both ways. Confident that the long pathway was clear, he stepped out. He placed Digger inside the pouch pocket. The ferret curled into a ball and went to sleep.

  Uncertain where else to go, Magnus followed the corridor in the opposite direction of the mines. He marveled at the polished round corridor where the tunnel-drilling machines had bore out the passages that now housed prisoners. The red walls were smooth like glass. Anchored on the ceiling about every twenty feet were fluorescent lights. Whenever the lights struck the walls at the right angle, the embedded MarQuebes glittered. He placed his huge hand against one and shook his head. These gems were what the prisoners slaved away and killed themselves for in the mines.

  Around a sharp bend in the hallway, a glass door shook and rattled. Magnus stopped. The floor beneath him wasn’t vibrating, so it wasn’t a tremor. However, the glass door continued rattling. He eased closer and noticed the door was changing colors—from silver to blue to green to red and alternated in different flashing patterns. Over the entrance, which wasn’t a prison cell with a narrow door but a much wider set of doors, was a sign: The Vortex. His curiosity got the best of him, so he slid the guard’s key card through the reader.

  The doors hissed opened, and he stepped inside.

  Hard rock music pulsed. He shook his head. Dozens of people, off duty guards and staff members he assumed, were dancing. Along the left side of the room was a large bar with a long beveled mirror behind it. Two rows of various whiskies, vodkas, and tonics set beneath the mirror. A few of the bartenders poured quick shots for the people seated at the polished bar while another bartender grinned and talked to a young lady seated on a tall stool.

  Off duty men and women d
rank and laughed while others danced mindlessly to the music. Those who drank heavily were already staggering when they walked. The dancers were lost in their moves, probably letting their minds drift back home to Earth. At least that’s what he guessed. While mining was rigorous for him, since he was awake, the other prisoners weren’t even aware of their labor. The guards really had nothing to do because the prisoners were like machines and didn’t require much attention. In a way, the prisoners seemed better off than the guards because they were oblivious to their surroundings.

  Magnus watched a bartender pour a quick shot for a guard slouched against the bar. The man downed it. Magnus hadn’t drunk any liquor in over a year. After the unusual day he had experienced, plus his aches and pains, the timing couldn’t be better. He stepped past a couple of dancers and walked over to the bar. None of the dancing males and females paid him any mind.

  Magnus grinned, sat down on a bar stool, and ordered a shot of whiskey.

  4

  Olympus Mons

  Before the shuttle neared the landing bay doors, Dr. Carter pulled his visor down. He had not made the trip from Deimos to Mars in over six months. Harvey usually made the bimonthly trips for supplies. Since Carter was the chief medical examiner on Deimos, he was required to be on duty and was seldom given the luxury to seek entertainment at Olympus Mons. Not that it mattered because he and Wanda had found private moments whenever time allowed. But now she was gone.

  The landing bay doors opened slowly. His fingers tightened around the metal briefcase handle. He was thankful that the computer did the flight navigation, so he didn’t have to worry about crashing the shuttle inside the landing bay.

  It was a shame that the shuttle wasn’t equipped to make an entire space flight back to Earth. Had it been, he’d have made the journey. But the flight back to Earth took approximately seven months. He didn’t have enough provisions on Deimos to sustain such a journey, and the small shuttle wasn’t insulated properly to shield for longer periods of radiation. The ship certainly didn’t have enough fuel or oxygen to last more than a few days.

  When the shuttle docked inside the Olympus Mons landing bay, Carter waited for the cockpit signal to flash and the door to unlock. When the lock unsealed, he flipped the door lever and pushed it open. He stepped out, kept his visor down, and headed for the corridor on the other side of the bay.

  Standing near the computer panels, a brown haired woman watched him approach. She stood about five-four, had brown curly hair that flowed down her back. Her brown eyes studied him with a bit of skepticism. Her mechanic jumpsuit didn’t diminish her athletic figure.

  Carter pretended he didn’t see her, so he didn’t pause in his stride as he walked past.

  “Wait,” she said. “Harvey! You forgot to sign . . .”

  Carter stopped and turned slowly.

  Following him, she lifted a clipboard and presented it. “You forgot to sign the landing chart.”

  Frustrated, Carter lifted his faceguard. “I didn’t forget.”

  “Dr. Carter?” she said with a surprised, interested smile. Her eyes brightened.

  “Hi, Sylvia. It’s been a while,” Carter said in a low voice. He flashed a flirty grin and a quick wink and then he rubbed the thick stubble on his chin.

  Sylvia’s freckled face reddened as she flipped back her hair. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you. Why didn’t Harvey fly the shuttle?”

  Carter leaned closer and placed a finger to his lips. “Shh. No one must know I’m here. Understand?”

  She shook her head. Her brown eyes studied his with keen interest. “No. Why the big secret?”

  In a hushed voice, Carter said, “I can’t tell you here. The mechanics and guards might hear.”

  “So?”

  “I can’t. Okay?”

  Sylvia glanced at her watch and nodded. “Okay. My shift ended fifteen minutes ago anyways. Come to my room. It’s quiet there. We can talk and not worry about anyone hearing us.”

  Carter nodded and lowered his faceguard.

  The Vortex

  Magnus sat at the bar with his mirrored faceguard partially raised. Even though the suit was three sizes too small, no one seemed to notice him. It was hard for him to accept that he sat right in their midst without being seen. They were more interested in drinking, dancing, and playing board games or cards than anything else. He felt like an invisible giant.

  He took another shot of whiskey and tilted it back. The warmth ran down his dry sore throat, which eased the pain a bit. Hours of shoveling red dirt often caused him to cough up muddy phlegm, which was another reason that he wanted to get back to Earth. Even a healthy, muscular man like himself couldn’t maintain the toil he and the other miners had endured. Most of the men that labored beside him in the mine looked aged, tired, and frail. He reasoned the intense labor without adequate rest played a significant role in that because he didn’t believe any weak men had been chosen for such tasks. Constantly breathing in the dust and grit wasn’t healthy, either.

  After Magnus downed his third shot, he felt less pain from the grueling labor he’d endured for weeks. His mind relaxed, too, which was something he longed for. But he knew this was short lived. He needed to be on the move soon. The longer he waited in one place, the easier he made it for them to find him.

  He turned his head from left to right until his neck popped several times. He sighed from the relief. How long would it take for his muscles to loosen after the long hours of rigorous mining? Although the chips prevented the miners from feeling the pain, it didn’t alleviate the overworked muscles from possibly tearing or spraining. The wear and tear continued, regardless if they had any knowledge of their labor. Whenever injuries occurred, there wasn’t any work stoppage. They shoveled or swung picks until a guard noticed a miner’s trauma, provided they ever noticed at all.

  The only pain that radiated through Magnus now was the blaring music from the speakers. He was glad to have the numbing shots of whiskey, but he couldn’t stay in this bar much longer. The angering beat that blasted and bounced off the walls grated his nerves, and if he allowed that to continue, his aggravation might make him too edgy to tolerate even the minor annoyances of potential drunks asking too many questions.

  For his safety and perhaps that of others, Magnus decided to leave The Vortex to explore more of the outside corridors. The only places he had known up until his discovery of The Vortex were the mines and his small prison cell. He wondered what else he might learn about the prison planet.

  He stood and headed for the door.

  “Hey!” the barkeeper said. “Pay your tab!”

  “Sorry,” Magnus said, returning to the bar. His hands grew wet with sweat. He didn’t fear the man because Magnus was twice the barkeep’s size. Few men ever intimidated him. However, he couldn’t afford any direct attention from the patrons seated around the bar, either. Other off duty guards and officers were probably nearby and armed. Should an argument catch their attention, they could quickly identify him as not one of their own.

  Nervously, Magnus wiped his hands on the front of the uniform because he wasn’t sure how to pay the bill. He stood at the edge of the bar and put his hands into his pouch pocket where Digger slept.

  “What’s your problem?” the barkeeper asked. “You haven’t drank that much. Your badge.”

  “Huh?”

  “I need to scan your badge.”

  “Oh!” Magnus said, quickly handing it to the barkeeper. “Sorry about that.”

  The man ran the card through the scanner. “There. See? Cain Meadows?” The barkeep suspiciously looked at Magnus for a long moment before handing back the badge.

  Magnus slid the badge into his pocket and turned to leave.

  “Cain?”

  Magnus paused and looked back over his shoulder.

  “You putting on some weight or something?”

  “They gave me the wrong size uniforms this week.”

  The barkeeper laughed. “Yeah, go with that. That wou
ld be my excuse, too.”

  Magnus frowned. “It’s true. And it hurts like a mother in some places.”

  “I imagine it does,” the man said with a slight grimace. “I guess you’re near to busting out the seams.”

  Magnus feigned a laugh and walked toward the door. Talking too much would definitely give him away, especially if this man actually knew Cain personally. The barkeep would figure out the ruse within the matter of minutes. It was best for Magnus to stay away from people if he could help it, at least until he was able to escape from Mars.

  Outside in the corridor, he decided to keep going in the direction that had led him to The Vortex. At least he was getting farther from the prison cells and into areas where people had control of their mentality, except for the inebriated, of course.

  The narrow corridor broadened into a wider area that looked like the construction crew might eventually drill an intersecting corridor to function as a crossroads, which would open more mining pits, prison cells, and storage facilities. The two sides that had yet to be completed were dark and unlit. The voices of a man and woman approached beyond the unfinished intersection, so Magnus darted into the shadows to avoid being seen.

  5

  “I need to get back to Earth,” Carter said, glancing at Sylvia.

  Sylvia laughed. “Don’t we all?”

  “I’m serious, Sylvia.”

  She stopped walking. Her smile faded, and her brown eyes narrowed with concern when she stared into his. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Everyone on Deimos is dead.”

  “What?”

  Carter placed a finger to his lips again and shushed her.

  “You’re serious?” she whispered.

  He nodded and looked away. Remorse weighted his face.

  “How, Carter?” she asked, placing her hand gently on his arm. “What happened?”

  “A deadly virus killed them all.”

  “God, really?”

  “Yes.”