No Escape: Three Dark Drabbles
by Andrew Jackson
Horrific Scribes Extremity Rating:
Final Transmission
Sian screamed as Michael’s helmet exploded. Pieces of his face, flash-frozen by the cold, tinkled over her suit. He’d been just behind her.
The habitat was mere meters away, but Mars wouldn’t let her run.
Behind her, the machine slowly crested the rise in a tangle of spidery limbs and broken wheels. Its SuperCam lens was a blazing red eye.
It shouldn’t have still been alive, much less insane. But before leaving the superintelligent rover to rot, Earth had named it for one thing: Perseverance.
The word was the last thing to go through her head before the mining laser.
On Exit Row
The man next to me is dead. The stewardess said he’s just sleeping, but I know.
He made this awful gurgle just after dinner, and whenever I dare look, his head is lolling against the window, eyes open and reflecting the distant black sea.
He’s young, but I know if there’s already something wrong in your head, the altitude can set it off. Pop.
I can’t call again. What if I’m wrong?
What if I’m right?
The plane shudders through sudden turbulence.
His hand has fallen into my lap. It’s so heavy. So white. So cold.
Nine hours to go.
First Meal
“It shouldn’t have teeth!”
Distant voices rang through quivering, dying flesh, interrupting the creature’s furious masticating. That eternal boom-boom grew faster, weakening, as red, warm meat tumbled down its gullet.
All it knew was inexplicable, insatiable hunger. But somehow, it realised the voices meant danger.
“We’re losing her! I’m operating!”
Suddenly, the sky cleaved apart in blinding light, revealing a huddle of masked, terrified faces.
“Oh God… what is it?”
Gloved hands reacted slowly, only grabbing the rope that had once nourished it. It fled higher, rending, tearing.
This new sky interested it. Perhaps it was time to leave home.