slugs were probably why Ryan was still alive. The 9 mm rounds weakened the creature enough to give Ryan a fighting chance.
Wiggling the SIG-Sauer against the dark fur, Ryan fired off three more rounds, keeping his head low so the mutie couldn’t reach his vulnerable throat. The creature grunted loudly from the impact of each hot slug into its leg and upper thigh, then the grip loosened slightly. Wiggling an arm free, Ryan shoved the blaster under the snarling jaw and triggered the last two rounds. The muzzle-flame engulfed the beast’s face, and its head rocked back from the triphammer blows of the steel-jacketed bone-shredders.
As the arms dropped away, Ryan kicked the mutie, but the blow seemed to have no effect as the dying animal staggered away, blood gushing from the ghastly wounds. Then it turned and insanely roared to charge again with a grim intensity. Normal or mutated, Ryan knew that look. It was going to take him with it onto the last train west.
With no time to reload, Ryan dropped the blaster and drew his panga to meet the charge with a slash of razor-sharp steel. The mutie stumbled to the side, trying to get around the man, and Ryan lashed out with the flat of the blast slashing the exposed throat from ear to ear.
Gurgling horribly, the hunter grabbed at the ruin of its neck, crimson life pumping onto the ground. Yanking the AK-47 off his shoulder, Ryan stitched the mutie from groin to crown and it stumbled away to collapse into the bushes. There was a mighty exhalation, and it went still.
Sheathing his knife, Ryan grabbed the SIG-Sauer from the grass and shoved the empty blaster back into its holster, never looking away from the steaming jungle. He’d encountered that type of mutie previously, and the hunters always traveled in packs. He had to get back into the redoubt fast. His ribs ached, but there was no wheezing when he breathed, which meant there were no broken bones. He was thankful for that.
Stepping awkwardly down the slope, Ryan saw something move in the trees and fired a short burst in its direction. If he hit anything, there came no answering cry of pain.
Wading back into the lake, he nearly slipped on a slimy rock, but caught himself from going into the water when six more hunters dropped from the trees and charged. Incredibly, they paused at the edge of the water.
Seizing the moment, Ryan fanned the rapid-fire, stitching the group of muties. That seemed to shatter their hesitation, and they jumped in and waded forward, with all four arms raised. Firing again, Ryan tried to jump aside, when he felt a hard tug around his waist. What in the…Damn! The nuking rope was still tied around his middle and was tangled on a rock!
Trapped, Ryan did the only thing he could and jumped backward, slipping and sliding down the mossy bank to splash into the water. He had to cut the rope loose or he would never leave the water alive. Firing the Kalashnikov with one hand, the man clawed for the panga but felt only empty leather. Then he spotted it on the mossy grass, lying amid the delicate flowers.
Spreading out, the muties moved into the shallow lake and began to circle the man, grunting and slapping at the water to draw his attention. But he refused to follow their lead and turned around randomly, firing single rounds to conserve ammo. Smart, Ryan thought. I forgot just how nuking smart these things are. The second they see me try to reload, it will be all over. Suddenly he heard a fusillade of blasterfire, and two of the creatures toppled over, gushing blood from multiple wounds.
Krysty and J.B. stepped into view on either side of Ryan, their Kalashnikovs firing steadily, the spent brass arching away to splash into the dirty water. Two more creatures were chewed apart by the rapid-fires, and the remaining muties turned to flee back into the jungle.
“Watch the trees!” Ryan growled, dropping the clip and reloading.
Giving each of the fallen hunters a round in the head, Ryan saw one of them rise
Wiggling the SIG-Sauer against the dark fur, Ryan fired off three more rounds, keeping his head low so the mutie couldn’t reach his vulnerable throat. The creature grunted loudly from the impact of each hot slug into its leg and upper thigh, then the grip loosened slightly. Wiggling an arm free, Ryan shoved the blaster under the snarling jaw and triggered the last two rounds. The muzzle-flame engulfed the beast’s face, and its head rocked back from the triphammer blows of the steel-jacketed bone-shredders.
As the arms dropped away, Ryan kicked the mutie, but the blow seemed to have no effect as the dying animal staggered away, blood gushing from the ghastly wounds. Then it turned and insanely roared to charge again with a grim intensity. Normal or mutated, Ryan knew that look. It was going to take him with it onto the last train west.
With no time to reload, Ryan dropped the blaster and drew his panga to meet the charge with a slash of razor-sharp steel. The mutie stumbled to the side, trying to get around the man, and Ryan lashed out with the flat of the blast slashing the exposed throat from ear to ear.
Gurgling horribly, the hunter grabbed at the ruin of its neck, crimson life pumping onto the ground. Yanking the AK-47 off his shoulder, Ryan stitched the mutie from groin to crown and it stumbled away to collapse into the bushes. There was a mighty exhalation, and it went still.
Sheathing his knife, Ryan grabbed the SIG-Sauer from the grass and shoved the empty blaster back into its holster, never looking away from the steaming jungle. He’d encountered that type of mutie previously, and the hunters always traveled in packs. He had to get back into the redoubt fast. His ribs ached, but there was no wheezing when he breathed, which meant there were no broken bones. He was thankful for that.
Stepping awkwardly down the slope, Ryan saw something move in the trees and fired a short burst in its direction. If he hit anything, there came no answering cry of pain.
Wading back into the lake, he nearly slipped on a slimy rock, but caught himself from going into the water when six more hunters dropped from the trees and charged. Incredibly, they paused at the edge of the water.
Seizing the moment, Ryan fanned the rapid-fire, stitching the group of muties. That seemed to shatter their hesitation, and they jumped in and waded forward, with all four arms raised. Firing again, Ryan tried to jump aside, when he felt a hard tug around his waist. What in the…Damn! The nuking rope was still tied around his middle and was tangled on a rock!
Trapped, Ryan did the only thing he could and jumped backward, slipping and sliding down the mossy bank to splash into the water. He had to cut the rope loose or he would never leave the water alive. Firing the Kalashnikov with one hand, the man clawed for the panga but felt only empty leather. Then he spotted it on the mossy grass, lying amid the delicate flowers.
Spreading out, the muties moved into the shallow lake and began to circle the man, grunting and slapping at the water to draw his attention. But he refused to follow their lead and turned around randomly, firing single rounds to conserve ammo. Smart, Ryan thought. I forgot just how nuking smart these things are. The second they see me try to reload, it will be all over. Suddenly he heard a fusillade of blasterfire, and two of the creatures toppled over, gushing blood from multiple wounds.
Krysty and J.B. stepped into view on either side of Ryan, their Kalashnikovs firing steadily, the spent brass arching away to splash into the dirty water. Two more creatures were chewed apart by the rapid-fires, and the remaining muties turned to flee back into the jungle.
“Watch the trees!” Ryan growled, dropping the clip and reloading.
Giving each of the fallen hunters a round in the head, Ryan saw one of them rise
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