A Stranger Thing (The Ever-Expanding Universe) by Martin Leicht, Isla Neal Page B

rambunctious. Oates darts back in front of me just as the first two snowmobiles blast into camp.
    The riders are wearing black thermals with full ski masks covering their faces. Which is a little moustache-twirly-cliché, even for the Jin’Kai. Oates extends the snare out horizontally in front of him, and with a lightning-quick jump forward he manages to cross-check both of the drivers, knocking them off their vehicles before they can brake to a stop. They fall backward into the snow, forcing the other riders to bail out before the mobiles crash into the side of the cabin. The Jin’Kai roll away and crouch into attack positions, but they’re a bit clumsier than I would have expected. At least, compared to Oates, that is. Dude is a straight-up ninja.
    The Jin’Kai charge at him en masse, brandishing what look like batons. So apparently this ice-bound outfit thought they could capture me without the use of ray guns. Interesting. There’s ten attackers encircling Oates, while the last three snowmobiles whir in behind them, but Oates doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He bobs and weaves, avoiding each intended blow, using the momentum of his attackers against them as he whacks one in the back and trips another one up before lunging past.
    And then it happens. One of the Jin’Kai douchetards spots me and makes a move toward me. But before the dude can get two paces closer to me, Oates has caught him around the neck with the snare. He yanks him down hard into the snow.
    “Elvie, go!” he shouts.
    For serious, that is some badass shit.
    I’m busy thanking my lucky stars I somehow always seem to be sided with the buffest aliens, when Oates suddenly stumbles forward, tripping over the dude he’s just downed, and I realize he’s been smacked by a second Jin’Kai in the back. Despite his limp, Oates manages to spin on his attacker, landing a crunching smack with the butt of the pole against the dude’s jaw.
    I turn toward the door of the cabin, which is feeling a lot farther away than the six or so meters that it actually is. And I’m halfway there when one of the snowmobiles cuts in front of me, spraying me in the face with icy snow as it slices to a stop. My path is blocked. I raise my hands in the air—’cause, I don’t know, that’s what you do—and my eyes dart frantically, searching for Oates. But it’s all a mess of confusion and snow and fog and seriously loud barking , and I can’t find him anywhere.
    “It’s a girl!” one of the Jin’Kai shouts, leaping off his ride.
    “Grab her!” a second shouts. The first guy moves toward me. Given the snowdrifts and all, the number of available evasive maneuvers in my repertoire is slim, so the dude’s on me pretty quick. My only remaining move is one I haven’t stooped to since fourth grade.
    As the Jin’Kai grabs both my upraised arms, I knee him squarely where the sun don’t shine.
    His balls, I mean. The sun does not shine there.
    “Oof!” my attacker shouts, dropping me with a plop on my butt in the snow. “You little—”
    Before he can finish, a flash of tan fur comes to my rescue, tackling the Jin’Kai into the snow. As I scramble to my feet,Pontius is snarling and shredding the dude’s black thermal with his massive jaws.
    I knew that doggy liked me. The other dogs have all run away, or are taking in the scene semicuriously while licking themselves in unmentionable places. Not my buddy Pontius, though.
    “Pontius!” I shout, suddenly eyeing another intruder, smaller than the rest, who has snuck around from behind the snowmobile with his baton raised. “Pontius!” But the dog is too busy chewing on the guy underneath him to listen.
    Before the would-be PETA offender can strike the brave pup, I jump on the guy’s back. And to my surprise, the Jin’Kai topples over, burying us both in a drift. I wrestle the baton out of his hand without much effort and toss it away. He struggles underneath me, but I have him pinned.
    “No offense,” I