Free Death Trap by Sigmund Brouwer

security guard was at the steering wheel. The other seven scientists were scattered in different groups, whispering among themselves. Director Steven was driving the other platform buggy, with the nine other people for passengers.
    As for me, I was beside Mom, in my wheelchair by the window. I let my hands mindlessly juggle the red balls as I stared out at the landscape.
    The sun began to drop behind the distant mountains. Our dome was on a valley plain. Towering above the nearby hills, those mountains, black and jagged and awesome against the sun, stood 50,000 feet high.
    I’ve been told that sunsets on Earth can be incredible. A mixture of reds, oranges, and pinks all streak across the sky.
    Not so on Mars. Since there’s so little atmosphere, there are few particles of dust or smoke to work as prisms to change the sun’s light into different colors as the sun nears the horizon. Here, the sun always looks like a blue ball of fire.
    What’s incredible, however, are the pinks and reds and roses of the land itself. With its red soil and the salmon color of the sky, the beauty of the desolate landscape is haunting and sad.
    Of course, part of the reason I felt that way as I looked through the clear bubble of the platform buggy was a result of seeing where all of us were headed. Director Steven said he didn’t want the others back at the dome to be reminded of what would happen to us. So we’d have to travel out of sight of the dome and then park, waiting for our oxygen to run out.

CHAPTER 21
    The strangest thing happened the next morning.
    I woke up. Alive.
    Mom had prayed for us the night before, because we both expected that the oxygen in the platform buggy would run out during the night. Usually only two or three people went out in it at a time, so it did not carry enough oxygen for all of us for a long period. We expected to go to sleep and never wake up.
    As I blinked and rubbed my eyes, I saw surprise on the other faces as well.
    We didn’t have a chance to wonder about it for long.
    â€œGood morning, everyone.” Director Steven’s voice came over the communication speaker, talking to us from the other platform buggy. “Please make sure you have breakfast. I want all of you to remain as healthy as possible.”
    I gave Mom a strange look. She gave me a strange look.
    Wearing the jumpsuit I’d fallen asleep in, I rolled over on the floor and pulled myself into my wheelchair.
    â€œTo those of you who are surprised to be breathing this morning,” his cheerful voice continued, “please let me apologize for yesterday’s drama. I assure you that neither platform buggy will run short of oxygen until the supply ship arrives from Earth.”
    I pushed over to the window, fighting to move the wheels as I’d been doing over the last few weeks. As I stared across the space between the platform buggies I could see into the other platform buggy where Director Steven was facing the microphone.
    â€œLet me explain,” Director Steven said calmly. “The oxygen level in the dome is far lower than anyone knew. Had I been truthful about it, there would have been panic and civil war as people fought for the remaining oxygen tanks. After I did all the calculations, I discovered there was only enough oxygen for 20 people to survive.”
    He cleared his throat. “That left a simple problem. How could I get those 20 out of the dome without the other 180 fighting to go? You have probably guessed by now how I came to a simple solution. I made it appear as if these 20 were the ones who would die. That way, no one would stop them from leaving. And you, of course, are the 20. Mercifully, the others left in the dome will not face the fear that comes with knowing the oxygen will run short. They will just become sleepy and die peacefully.”
    What? I thought wildly.
    â€œThe few of you who volunteered to give up your lives are here because you deserve to live. The rest