Horror Sci-Fi Box Set: Three Novels Read online

  A Horror Sci-Fi Box Set

  Bryan Dunn

  Includes:

  Moon Rocks

  Thaw

  Creepers

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2013 by Bryan Dunn

  All Rights Reserved.

  www.BryanDunnBooks.com

  Table of Contents

  Moon Rocks

  Intro

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Thaw

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Creepers

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Moon Rocks

  Bryan Dunn

  Deep in the heart of Texas…

  A NASA moon rock “hatches” releasing an alien creature into the countryside. Now it’s up to NASA geologist, Nick Walker, to stop the monstrous creature in spite of his scheming boss.

  www.BryanDunnBooks.com

  Intro

  Between July 1969 and December 1972, Apollo astronauts brought 842 pounds of lunar rocks, core samples, and sand back to Earth.

  To date, 10 states and 90 countries can’t account for loaned lunar samples.

  NASA records show that over 500 astromaterials, including moon rocks, have been lost or stolen between 1970 and 2010.

  NASA also confirms one researcher lost 18 lunar samples in 2010.

  As of today, approximately 140 baseball-sized lunar samples are unaccounted for.

  Chapter 1

  Nevada Nuclear Test Site, Rainier Mesa, 2007

  Inside the nuclear test site’s geology department, Frank Beckman stepped out of his office, killed the lights, and walked through the lab toward 24-year-old Denny Anderson, who was excitedly flipping through a shipping manifest attached to the top of a brushed aluminum case.

  “Drink thirty,” Beckman said as he stepped up to Denny. “Time to wrap it up.”

  Ignoring him, Denny continued paging through the manifest, his eyes devouring the list of contents.

  “Hey. Earth to Anderson. Hello…”

  “What?” Denny said, finally looking at Beckman, his voice distracted and far away sounding.

  “Last shuttle off the base is in fifteen minutes. Time to wrap it up.”

  Denny ran a hand across the top of the case. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Yep,” Beckman said with a nod of his head. “Moon rocks.”

  “Not just moon rocks—twelve and a half pounds of Spur Crater lunar samples. Rocks, core samples, pebbles, and dust. It’s incredible.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting all shivery and weak in the knees,” Beckman said. “But it’s Friday, and I need a break from this insane asylum.”

  “Do you know how long I’ve waited to get my hands on these?”

  “Yes, I do. Eight months. I’m the lucky guy who put through your request and did the monthly follow-ups. Remember?”

  “Oh…yeah, right.” Denny said, trying to look and sound gra
teful.

  “Listen, Anderson, it’s a three-day weekend. If you stay, you’ll be stuck on the base ‘til Tuesday. It’ll be just you, the Air Force guys, and their shiny new bunker buster.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’ll be perfect, no one around to bother me.”

  “Okay, your call, my brainiac geek friend. I’ll see you Tuesday.” Beckman shrugged on a windbreaker, pulled the door open, and then called back, “Go easy on the Diet Coke, Anderson. And have fun fondling your rocks.”

  Denny flipped him off.

  Laughing, Beckman continued down the hallway and exited the lab.

  * * * *

  Three days later, early Tuesday morning, Beckman entered the lab and was surprised to find it empty and mostly dark.

  Where was Anderson? Why wasn’t he at work? Why wasn’t he already up and running tests on his precious lunar samples?

  Beckman continued through the lab, flicking on lights as he went, the heels of his shoes making a click click click sound as he crossed the polished cement floor.

  Up ahead, he saw that the lights were on in Anderson’s work station. He angled toward the station, calling out as he approached.

  “Anderson…”

  Nothing, no response. Just the dull hum of the AC as it cycled on.

  Beckman stepped up to the work station door, leaned in, and was about to call out again, but froze when he saw Denny sprawled on the floor.

  What the fuck.

  “Denny!” Beckman called, but Anderson didn’t move.

  Beckman dropped his briefcase, bolted forward, and pulled up short when he saw the crimson puddle of blood at Denny’s side.

  The place where his left arm should have been.

  Holy shit.

  The arm had been wrenched from its socket, leaving a yawning hole in the torso surrounded by ragged flaps of skin.

  “Denny! Jesus, Denny. Can you hear me?” Beckman pulled off his coat and tucked it around the oozing wound as best he could. He reached out to check for a pulse, when—

  Denny’s eyes sprang open.

  “Jesus Christ!” Beckman yelled, jerking his hand back. “Fuck!”

  Denny’s eyes rolled toward Beckman. Two lifeless marbles stared up at him. The muscles in Denny’s face began to twitch, like he was trying to say something. With great effort, his mouth opened, but just as he was about to speak, his jaw collapsed and the skin on his face pooled across his chest.

  “Oh, fuck! Jesus fucking Christ!” Beckman fell back from the body. “Jesus, no…”

  Something smashed to the floor behind him.

  Beckman wheeled around and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a dark shape flash through the lab and shoot out the door. What the hell?

  It moved so fast that he didn’t actually see it. It was more of a blur, really. It looked like a medium-sized dog. A pit bull, maybe. A pit bull. Oh Christ, is that what got Anderson? A pit bull could definitely do that kind of damage.

  And then a new thought popped into his mind. A thought that said there was no way that was a dog. Dogs didn’t move like that.

  Dogs didn’t run on two legs.

  Chapter 2

  Three men dressed in black—Manny, Moe, and Jack (those were their heist names anyway)—dropped over a sandstone wall one by one and stared through the night at Casa Bella, a twenty-two bedroom Spanish-style mansion perched on a hilltop overlooking Montecito, a wealthy enclave located a few miles south of Santa Barbara. Built by a steel baron as a winter retreat, the split-level property oozed elegance and old money.

  Behind the main house, a contemporary-looking stone and glass structure loomed out of the shadows, a seven thousand square foot private museum—the reason for the men’s visit.

  Casa Bella’s current owners, Alistair and Bunny Lambert, had filled the museum with a world-class collection of art and antiquities worth over sixty million dollars. In fact, Alistair and Bunny were in New York right now, hoping to pick up a Jackson Pollock that had just come on the market.

  The men pulled ski masks over their faces, then crouch-ran along the wall for two hundred feet until they stood directly across from the museum.

  Manny and Moe were the first to arrive, and they immediately flattened themselves against the wall while they waited for Jack, who moved toward them with a pronounced limp.

  Manny, the leader, looked at Jack and shook his head, signaling his disapproval at him for not keeping up, then pointed at the museum and made a walking motion with his fingers. The other two men nodded, and then the three of them skirted along a low hedge and dropped down next to a utility box that stood against the museum’s east wall.

  Manny looked around, checked his watch, and motioned to Jack, who stepped up and cut the lock off of the utility box with a pair of bolt cutters.

  Manny rocked forward, pulled the access panel open, and nodded to Moe, who went to work disarming the alarm and killing the security cameras.

  Using alligator clips, Moe sorted through the color-coded Verizon phone lines, bridging them one by one until he was sure the alarm circuits had been bypassed. Next, he reached into a satchel slung at his side, removed a pair of snips, and, after careful consideration, severed three coaxial cables, effectively cutting the security camera’s video feed.

  Just as the last cable was cut, the three men heard a rattling sound and froze. A second after that, a hot Santa Ana wind began to blow. It swept over mountain ridges, rifled down canyon passes, and washed across Casa Bella, instantly filling their noses with the menthol smell of eucalyptus from the trees that ringed the estate.

  Good, Manny thought as he took in a lungful of the fragrant air. The wind will mask our movements. He looked at his watch. They had exactly twenty minutes before the rent-a-cops would be making their next pass.

  “Okay, let’s do it,” Manny whispered, giving the men a direct look. “Ten minutes, in and out.”

  Jack handed out black canvas duffle bags, and then the three of them moved to an industrial rollup door located at the rear of the building, picked the lock, and slipped inside.

  Exactly ten minutes after they had entered the museum, Manny and Moe stood outside the rear door, duffle bags stacked at their feet swollen with canvasses worth over ten million dollars.

  Manny pulled his sleeve up, checked his watch, swore to himself, and shook his head. “Fucking gimp.”

  “Shit.” Moe said, as he craned his neck to look into the museum, hoping to see some sign of him.

  “Thirty seconds,” Manny said. “He’s got thirty seconds, then we’re gone.”

  Footsteps. Both of them turned. A moment after that, they watched Jack round a corner, limping with exaggerated herky-jerky movements as he rushed toward them as fast as his gimp leg would allow.

  As he approached the exit, Manny noticed a roll of canvases poking out of the duffle bag – and tucked beneath his left arm – what looked like a grayish-colored rock encased in a Plexiglas box.

  “You’re late,” Manny said, trying to contain his anger and keep his voice down as Jack hobbled up, almost dropping the rock on his foot.

  “What the fuck?” Moe said, grabbing the box out of Jack’s hand and holding it up for a better look.

  “It’s a moon rock,” Jack said, doubling over to catch his breath. “It’s for my collection.”

  “We’re waiting, risking our asses, so you could grab a fucking rock?”

  “It’s from the moon. It’s a moon rock, for Christ’s sake.”

  Moe shook his head and shoved the box back at him. “Dumb fuck.”

  Chapter 3

  Present Day

  East Texas, NASA Geology Field Lab

  The NASA lab was located in a rural section of Texas about 80 miles down the coast from the Johnson Space Center and the SSPL—the Sample Storage Processing Laboratory—which was home to 842 pounds of moon rocks collected by Apollo astronauts between 1969 and 1972. The field lab—or annex—was left over from NASA’s glory days when the agency’s future seemed unlimited, and it wasn’t t
he ineffective, top-heavy bureaucracy it was today.

  Standing at the foot of a basement’s landing, Dr. Nick Walker, thirty-six, head of the lab’s geology department, flicked a light switch, and the musty cellar smell filled his nose.

  A string of bare bulbs flickered and flashed and then finally shone brightly, illuminating a narrow passage that doglegged before opening into a chamber containing shelves stacked with rocks, all of them dulled by dust, which made it impossible to distinguish one sample from the next.

  The rocks had been abandoned by the last department head, Walter Atkins—or Walt, as he was affectionately known—the legacy of a lifetime spent as a rock hound.

  When Walt had retired, he had promised to remove the collection, but stage four lung cancer had cut those plans short, so now it fell to Nick to dispose of the rocks.

  Nick blew out a breath, smoothed a hand over the back of his head, and moved through the narrow walkway, entering a chamber at the rear of the basement. Turning in a circle, he made a silent whistling sound as he realized for the first time just how many samples had been horded away down here. Must be over a thousand rocks.

  What the hell was he going to do with them all?

  Nick stepped up to a shelf, lifted one of the rocks, and blew off the dust revealing an ordinary piece of volcanic glass. With the exception of a couple of large geodes, none of the rocks Walt had collected had any real value—either monetarily or for research.

  Nick held the rock up to his eyes, thinking that with just a little more sculpting, it would look exactly like Switzerland’s Matterhorn. As he rotated it, looking for just the right angle, he lost his grip and the rock crashed to the floor, snapping off the horned tip that had first caught his eye.

  Well, there went the winner of the Matterhorn look-alike contest.

  Oops—sorry, Walt.

  He bent to retrieve the rock, and just as he moved to grab it, he noticed a sealed plastic bag protruding out from beneath the shelf. Someone had clearly hidden it there.

  What have you got here, Walt?

  Nick returned the volcanic glass to the shelf, then kneeled down and worked the bag out from beneath the rack. The first thing he noticed was a note taped to the top that read, “My pet rock – W. Atkins.”

  Very funny, Walt.

  As he went to break the seal to see what was inside the bag, he heard the sound of arcing wires, and a shower of sparks filled the basement. The lights flickered, and a second later, they blinked completely off, plunging Nick into total darkness.