Receiver by Penny Maez
A young boy has to deal with something terrifying that has intruded on his life. He has to summon up all his reserves of strength and courage and learn to confront it without preconceptions.
A THRILLER ABOUT FIRST CONTACT
Nobody else knew about the spaceship.
Except every Government in the world, of course, but they weren’t telling.
They surrounded it with guns and tanks and bombs. They measured every centimeter of its huge, windowless hull. They intercepted the messages it broadcast, inviting the people of Earth to come inside for a meeting with creatures from the stars.
Peter only found out because his father was a spy. Because his father’s colleague was first to set foot in the spaceship, and he never returned.
And because Peter’s father is next.
50,000 words : 188 pages
eBook
Amazon search code: B00BCBNVMA
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Paperback
Amazon search code: 1520874995
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EXCERPT
For a moment there was darkness and silence but for Patterson’s nervous breathing. Then lights flicked on.
The first thing I saw was something swift and orange, glaring bright in the darkness. I realized it was just Patterson lowering his arm from where he’d switched on a flashlight. Its beam showed a small chamber that seemed to be made of the same corrugated iron as the outside, streaked with brown dirt.
Wherever Patterson pointed the flashlight, all he could see were corrugated metal walls.
‘You still getting this?’ he said. There was silence for a moment. ‘You still hear me?’
Another pause.
‘He doesn’t have a radio,’ my father told me. ‘We didn’t have time to rig one up. This is just a hazmat suit from the chemical weapons lab with some bomb squad gear and SCBA equipment strapped on with elephant tape.’
‘All right,’ Patterson said. ‘I have to assume you’re still getting this. I don’t know what to do right now. I can tell the air lock’s closed behind me, but there’s no kind of switch or handle or anything to—’
His breathing grew ragged again for a moment. There was a blur of light and darkness.
‘The inner door just opened,’ Patterson said. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any change. Air pressure’s the same, temperature’s the same, oxygen, nitrogen, CO2, proportions look right.’
The picture settled on another dark entranceway, immediately ahead.
Beyond it lay a fathomless murk, slightly greenish in color, and swirling with what looked like mist.
The flashlight beam glared off the mist. It was impossible to see more than a couple of meters ahead.
‘It’s dark in there,’ Patterson said. ‘No sign of a—’
He paused, and then laughed nervously.
‘No sign of a reception committee,’ he said.
He shone his flashlight about the entrance, but there was nothing but the dark greenish murk.
‘Okay, Marty,’ Patterson muttered to himself. ‘Time to be brave.’
He stepped forward into the murk.
It was like entering an enormous foggy chamber, filled with green swirling mist.
‘I can’t see anything,’ Patterson reported. ‘I guess you’re registering that. Nothing all around me. The wall of the air lock behind me, looks the same as the outside. The floor’s like rubble—no, like smooth pebbles embedded in ice. Not slippery, just cold and wet. I’m heading on.’
He took another step forward, and then another.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t briefed on this. What should I do, just keep walking? I expected somebody to come and greet me. Something, I mean. Mustn’t have any preconceptions. Something to come and say hello, or do whatever they do to show they’re friendly. But there’s nothing here. Just this fog.’
Another step.
‘I’m blind now,’ Patterson said. ‘I’m just seeing fog. It’s the color of Chlorine-2-17, swirling slowly, and seems to be made up of tiny particles like water mist. The particles are coating my suit and my visor like mist does. I’m not smelling anything.
‘I know the aliens must have a different atmosphere to us, but this is truly strange. What’s their planet like, one of those peat moors in the north of Scotland?’
Another step. The flashlight swung back and forth across the green mist but there was nothing visible.
‘Boy, it’s cold,’ Patterson gasped. ‘A Scottish moor was right. This is like Arctic chill. Wish I’d worn a sweater. Nothing to do but head onward.’
Another step.
‘Something’s different,’ Patterson said. ‘The readings have changed. Well past zero here. Deep cold.
‘The fog’s not water, and it’s not one of ours, either. Not CL17. I’m picking up free ammonia, methane, there’s an atmosphere of methane in here. Trace elements all over the chart. Not at all friendly. Ethane, cyanogen, arsenic. Radicals, iron, mercury. There’s mercury in the atmosphere.
‘Ammonia and mercury. It’s not breathable. We’re not going to have parties with these guys, wherever they are.’
He stepped forward again.
‘Oh boy it’s cold,’ he said. ‘The mist has frozen on my visor. It’s biting through the suit. Too cold. I don’t know what to do.
‘This is cold mist, ammonia mist. My fingers have gone numb.
‘I don’t know what to do. I’ll move on another step but—’
The flashlight swung again.
‘I don’t believe this. The temperature dropped another ten degrees in that last step. It’s well below the line now. Not even registering on the scale.
‘The equipment’s freezing up. The ammonia’s off the meter. Too cold.
‘I can’t feel my legs. Can’t feel anything.
‘I’m going back. This is no good. I’m going back now.’
There was a flurry of activity, and then suddenly the screen went black. Nothing but static chasing across the TV.
Beside me, my father had closed his eyes.
Patterson’s breathing was labored, urgent. I could hear his teeth chattering in between breaths.
‘The camera just shorted out,’ he said. ‘I don’t know if the microphones are still working.
‘I tried running back but I don’t know where I am. The cold’s dropped again—it must have dropped, though all my equipment’s gone dead. Too cold.
‘My legs are like lead. My arms, I can’t move them. Too cold.
‘I want to go back but I don’t know which way it is.
‘Thankfully I still have the torch. But it’s too cold. It’s too cold. I can’t feel anything but cold.
‘How do I get out of here? I can’t see a way out.’
More heavy breathing. He was clearly panicking now.
‘Are you there? I hope you’re there. I tried running again but I couldn’t move my legs. I don’t know if I’m moving at all. Thankfully — thankfully—’
The breathing grew ragged, seemed to pause for a long time. Then there was a sucking breath.
‘My torch failed,’ Patterson said. ‘The cold — the cold’s too much for the battery. Too much for me. Thank god the SCBA’s still working. We make these things strong.
‘I’m not able to move now. I can’t move. I’m too cold. How do I get out of here? Too cold to breathe. It’s like pressure.
‘I’m blind now. Blind and cold. Disorientated. I can’t see anything. There’s—’
Ragged, terrifying breathing.
‘There’s something—’
A sound like scrabbling.
‘Trying to breathe,’ Patterson forced out. ‘I thought I saw something. Something huge and dark. I don’t know if it was the wall. I don’t know. I can’t—’
Choppy breathing again.
‘Definitely something,’ Patterson said. ‘Hard to breathe now. Too cold. My lungs are freezing. My face frozen. Eyes frozen.
‘There it is again! I don’t think—’
The breathing stopped suddenly. There was silence. The TV continued to chase with static from the broken camera.
I stared fixedly at the screen.
Finally my father opened his eyes. They were rimmed with red.
‘There’s nothing more,’ he said. ‘That’s the end of it.’
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ I said, stupidly.
‘He must have frozen to death,’ my father said. ‘Poor Marty.’
50,000 words : 188 pages
eBook
Amazon search code: B00BCBNVMA
Buy at Amazon US : $6.99 (free on Kindle unlimited)
Buy at Amazon UK : £5.99 (free on Kindle unlimited)
Paperback
Amazon search code: 1520874995
Buy at Amazon US : $10.99
Buy at Amazon UK : £9.99
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