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half step from the
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file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/James%20Axler%20-%20Deathlands%20038
%20-%20Mars%20Arena.html vehicle as a serpent's head shot out of the dark
recesses.
The snake's mouth was open wide, jaws distended and fangs glistening bone
white.
Ryan raked the panga through the thick neck behind the wedge-shaped head,
decapitating it. Operating on nerve reflex, the rest of the snake's
thirty-foot body came coiling out of the burned wag. Bleeding profusely from
the stump, the serpent's body writhed on the ground, leaving black splatter
patterns.
"Ryan!" Mildred called.
"I'm okay," he called back, scanning the wag for any further movement as the
snake continued to flop around. Nothing else appeared. He took up point again,
then noticed the shifting shadows under a series of forked branches from a
fifteen-foot-tall spruce.
The back of Ryan's neck tightened, feeling eyes on him now. A gleam of metal
flickered, picking up a purple and then a turquoise haze from the neon lights
surrounding them. He reached down for the SIG-Sauer, moving sideways so his
blaster hand was away from them.
Then branches cracked over Ryan's head. A massive feline head shook as the big
animal regained purchase and leaped at him.
Clearing the blaster of leather, Ryan barely had time to yell a warning to the
others before he was dodging, trying to get clear of the big mutie cat that
was determined to drop on top of him.
DEAN GLANCED UP at the second story through the hole that had been chopped
through the ceiling of the first-floor room he was in. Baron Vinge Connrad's
sec teams poured liquid into the room from a fifty-five-gallon drum. It
sloshed and sparkled in noisy glugs as it splashed against the wall and the
floor.
The sharp, sweet odor told Dean what it was in a single drawn breath.
"Gasoline!" he yelled to the other boys. They all retreated to the farthest
wall.
Perry had drawn back, separating himself from the rest of the group even
though he wore the same green armored vest as the rest of them.
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Dean pressed against the double doors that would open onto the pit area. He
was tired from seven days of travel, of constantly looking along their
backtrail to see if his dad or some of Brody's sec people were following. In
all that time he'd seen no one. Now his nerves were stretched tight as catgut
on a bow. Adrenaline surged inside him again, though, as the gasoline pooled
around their feet.
"Dirty fuckers!" Louis railed, his blond hair plastered to his skull by the
heat that had stifled them in the room. "You brought us all this way just to
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set us on fire? That it?"
Dean felt like yelling, too, but he knew it would have been just out of fear,
and he didn't want to give them that He leveled his Browning Hi-Power. Solomon
had stolen it out of
Nicholas Brody's safe, proving that the phys-ed teacher hadn't planned on
going back to the school after the transaction, and had given it to their
captors with an explanation that it was Dean's personal weapon. Vinge Connrad
had been pleased to discover that Dean had such a weapon, and had made
returning the weapon a presentation just before the other boys were armed.
Squeezing the trigger, Dean fired at the sec boss now brandishing an unlighted
torch.
The bullet plunked into the see-through plas sheet on a tangent that would
have put it squarely between his target's eyes.
The sec boss nearly fell over himself trying to get away, then glared at the
misshapen chunk of lead hanging in front of him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ethan Perry demanded. He pushed
himself off the wall and came at Dean.
Shifting the blaster to cover Perry, Dean said, "Don't." One word, delivered
hard, gave the implicit understanding there'd be no negotiations.
"Back off," Louis ordered, moving into position beside Dean, his pistol in
both hands but not pointed at anyone.
Perry made a move to pull his own blaster.
"No," Louis said to Perry. "You do it and I'll put you down myself."
"Stupe fucker's going to set off the gasoline shooting that damn gun," Perry
complained.
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"He does, they do," Louis said, "you really give a shit which way it goes?"
Connrad's sec boss laughed. "You little boys got more sand in you than I'd
have thought.
Mebbe the baron did have the right idea."
"Ceiling up there is made of metal and concrete," Dean whispered to Louis.
"Bullets'll bounce pretty damn good. Figure the angles right, that bulletproof
glass won't do dick for them." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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