Back from the dead on a dead world…
Left for dead in the Lunar underground, Brandt Wills wakes up to find out his problems are only beginning. Before being dumped, a shadowy organization called "Singularity" implanted an alien parasite in him which is now devouring him from the inside out.
In searching for Singularity, he inadvertently alerts them to his condition—he didn't die like he was supposed to—and now Singularity wants him back. At all costs. They will do whatever it takes to capture Brandt, including going to war with Luna if it's required, and if they can't recover him, they will kill him rather than let him get away with the alien symbiont.
But the Singularity doesn't know that the symbiont is able to mold and adapt Brandt's body into something better than he was before and, as a prior member of the Special Security forces of Terra, he was already a lethal weapon.
With a wise-cracking cyber ghost of a former friend and lover, Brandt will have to find out the secrets of Singularity and the alien symbiont before the monster kills him. Singularity's secrets could mean the death of everyone on Luna…or worse.
"The novel is loaded with action, a lot of battles, fights and some soul searching."– Amazon Review
"Page turning action that keeps ratcheting up as the reader uncovers the mystery of who and what is performing hideous experiments on human beings in a far-future world of where mankind has spread across the solar system."– Amazon Review
"I enjoyed this story from page one. It progressed rapidly and in directions I never foresaw. Very suspenseful and full of action. Great story!"– Amazon Review
Coming back to life hurts. Maybe more than dying, not that I knew what had killed me. Still, not many men get another chance. If I could only stay alive.
My nerves re-ignite and scream for oxygen as my blood turns acidic and burns. I feel the fire in my veins, and the stabbing pain as I force my heart to beat again by sheer will to live. I try to breathe and only cough and choke on fluid. Desperate for oxygen, my blood rushes to my lungs, trying to grab air that is not there, dumping what little oxygen I have left. I tell my blood to stop that, and it does, carefully hoarding whatever is left as I begin to die again.
I fight my next death with everything I have, reaching for something, anything, that will save me. Something happens, something inside me moves, changes.
Strange new chemicals enter my bloodstream, some kind of witch's brew that lets me live without oxygen, at least for a while. My thoughts get slow and fuzzy, and all that is left is the most primitive part of the brain, the part that will do anything to survive.
Opening my eyes, I see only darkness and feel the stinging fluid I bathe in. Struggling, I find I'm wrapped in something, it yields a little, but won't release me. Thrashing desperately, it only tightens around me. I choke on the fluid, trying to breathe it; I so want to breathe again.
I force myself to think again, to slow down as my blood burns. Slowly, carefully, I feel around in the blackness for an edge to the material and find it is a sheet of something I'm wrapped in. I pull it away until I have enough freedom to swim up.
I hit my head on something hard, and the dark world flashes white in pain. Wrong way. I force myself to exhale the last of the air in my lungs and feel which way up is. I feel the bubbles go past me, and I swim after.
The wrapping trails after me, dragging me down, slowing me as I pull desperately at the fluid. I want air so badly, everything else leaves the world.
I break the surface in perfect darkness and gasp for air. I cough and gag on the fluid in my lungs. Thrashing and flailing, I try to find land while lights flash and flare in my vision. That would be my brain getting ready to say good-bye again.
I reach a hard, rocky shore and desperately pull myself out of the chemical brew. I cough up a great lungful of water that never seems to end, never stopping for that one glorious breath of air I so need. Finally, I take a pull of the cold, hard, painful air that burns all the way down.
I scream from the pain and the greatness of being alive again. It's agony; it's glorious. Must be why all babies yowl with their first breath.
Gasping, I roll over, the sheets of material still wrapped about me. The darkness is perfect, absolute, immaculate. Had this place ever known light? All around me I can hear drips of water and echoes off of distant walls.
I'm cold. I can imagine the steam of the water rising off of me, stealing away my warmth and life. The wrapping helps keep me warm as I begin to shudder and shake. Already, I cannot feel my feet, bad news.
I want to warm up desperately, then I do. I can feel my veins and arteries open up, bringing heat back to my extremities and skin. My temperature rises to a fever level, and I stop shaking. Is it hypothermia? It can make you feel hot as you freeze to death. I feel warm and comfortable, and the hard stone under my head is as soft as a down pillow. Sleep claws at me, trying to pull me under again.
No. I fight it. I'll die of exposure here, wherever this is. I don't know what threats are out there, where I am, who or what did this to me…I don't even remember who I am.
In the perfect darkness and numbing cold, sleep and reality war for control. Dreams and images dance across the darkness, anything to fill the emptiness with meaning. I fight to stay awake. Sleep means hypothermia and death. Staring up at the immaculate darkness, I don't even see when my eyes close, and night rolls over me at last.