The Grip (short story) Sci-fi/Horror
*Free
Lt. Cready and Engineer Andreas Chavez have been selected to man a claustrophobic outpost on the outer edge of the solar system. After a year and a half with no word from Earth, nerves become frayed and tensions mount as Cready begins to suspect that his friend isn't entirely human.
Excerpt:
He had been alone for so long now that the sound of his own name had become a forgotten, dust-choked memory.
His eyes fell to his lap. The blood on his hands was still there; funny, all this time and he’d never washed it off. He raised a hand to his lips and let his tongue moisten a few of the dried flecks. Tasted real enough. But he knew better.
***
Cready punched the flashing button labeled comm. scan one. Outside, a small and battered dish poked its head up and into the churning sand storm. Three labored beeps sounded as it peered into the heavens, scanning the endless wastes for the tentative thread of a signal from home.
It searched for what seemed like forever before giving up. Cready’s heart sank as the dish retreated. He glanced around feeling cold and uneasy, feeling the very walls of the tiny habitat sliding in around him, twisting and snaking like the great muscular core of an anaconda.
He glanced down at the cramping pain at his side. The fingers of his left hand were curling, his nails pressing into the base of his palm, tattooing his flesh with tiny crescent moons. He straightened it, held his hand flat against his thigh until the muscles stopped fighting him.
Days bleeding into one another. He wondered, with no small amount of skepticism, whether this morning would be any different from the last.
Morning.
Was it even really morning? The computer’s soothing voice had told him so when it had nudged him awake, but what if it was wrong? What if it was lying?
The display before him blipped and chirped. A detached female voice spoke to him. “Proximity alert, Lieutenant Cready.”
“I’m a captain, goddammit,” he shouted back. He’d been promoted barely a month after arriving at the outpost. God only knew how long ago that was. The computer said they’d touched down a year and three months back, but it sure as hell felt a lot longer than that. Enough time one would think for the systems back home to have been updated. Truth be told, the promotion had probably done more to depress Cready than anything. It sure as hell said a lot about CENTCOM’S confidence in the mission. How many generals back on earth had promotions and praise heaped upon them when everyone knew they weren’t coming back?
Amazon
B&N
Smashwords
