CHAPTER 1 - Flashback

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Sarah Lawson had flashbacks at the most inopportune moments. Not random brain meltdowns from a past she would much rather forget, but repetitive replays of a horrible event that occurred twenty-five years ago in the year 2052. These episodes, as she liked to call them, weren't nightmares or daydreams; they were more like trances. A vivid memory that felt so real and lifelike, she could smell the distinct odor of burning flesh and hear the terrified screams as everyone—security chiefs, high-ranking personnel, and your average everyday lab techs—ran for the escape pods.

Emergency beacons flashed their intermittent strobe lights, providing a shadowy frame of reference in the pitch-black interior. The chief engineer had ordered the shutdown of the core power in the reactor room. Soon there wouldn't be gravity, air to breathe, or warmth to guard against the subfreezing temperatures of space.

Sarah sprinted through the corridor, racing by pipes and electrical conduits fixed to the walls, her husband in tow, struggling to keep up.

People darted through doors into the labs, the lounges, the mess hall, anywhere they thought safe. But nowhere was safe, not with that thing hunting for fresh blood.

Savage could not describe the creature lurking the dark corridors.

A beast driven by primal instinct fit much better.

There was nothing anyone could do to stop the creature because there were no actual weapons on site, just stun guns called Vipers. Until now, there had been no need for the use of deadly force. Besides that, the space station was a research facility, not a military installation, though the U.S. Navy had a small contingent here under the guise of scientific advancement. No one wanted to puncture the outer shell with a bullet and lose pressurization. So, the Vipers were the most logical solution. They came in pistol and rifle form. The latter with a neat supercharge feature, which helped fend off the creature long enough for some of the crew, staff, and visitors to escape. But not everyone got away.

With gravity losing its hold inside the station, Sarah took a sharp swing for a flight of stairs leading to the next level. She hustled down the steps with an awkward gait, the soles of her shoes thudding in rapid succession. Her husband, Jake, lumbered a few feet behind her, doing his best to keep up. Around her, the gunmetal gray walls glowed crimson with the flashing beacons. The lighting didn't help the jittery nerves turning flips in her stomach. The anxiety swelled and pushed its way up her throat.

Sarah tasted bile in her mouth, but forced it away in her gut, refusing to yield to the pressure. She crammed the nervous thoughts away into her subconscious mind. That's what she had to do. Mind over matter. She had to assume control of the one thing that had taken over this outpost.

Fear.

It was everywhere. On every face she passed in the halls.

As they darted into the next corridor, tears streamed down a grown man's face—Dr. Corvin—a medical physician, a man who always portrayed an air of mental toughness and physical strength. Corvin had raven black hair and ocean blue eyes. He lived in the gym. Sarah never saw an expression of weakness on his face. But he quaked and cried like a child, cutting in front of her and shooting into the stairwell leading up to the level from which they just came, which made little sense. The pod bays were ahead on this floor. She couldn't fathom why he was going in the opposite direction.

Regardless, they didn't have time to consider the doctor's irrational behavior.

The transformation had been swift and complete, irreversible. The man turned monster hunted its victims, jerking them from hiding places, sinking its canines into their warm and soft skin, splattering blood, ripping off limbs and terrorizing the fleeing inhabitants of the remote outpost.

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