| After
WWIII the real horror began. OUT
FOR BLOOD
"Look
out! Here they come!"
Blade glanced at Raphaela, saw her shocked countenance fixed in the
direction of the farmhouse, and spun, bringing the M60 barrel up, his gaze darting high
into the air over the building. He anticipated the attack would come from a lofty
elevation.
The Warrior was wrong.
Voicing twin high-pitched shrieks, a pair of inky figures swept down
toward the Force, coming in low, barely skimming the roof of the farmhouse, their outlines
stream-lined because their wings were tucked flush with their backs for greater diving
speed, their arms extended in a power dive.
Raphaela got off a dozen rounds at point-blank range, her shots
smacking into the creature on the right. But whether her bullets had no effect, or
whether the thing was simply moving too rapidly to be stopped by anything, an instant
later she felt awesomely strong hands clamp onto her upper arms and the creature began to
surge upward bearing her with it. |
In
a world gone mad,
lying was a way of life---
and the truth could kill.DELIVERANCE
Marlin had his survival knife
free. The rifle lay at his feet. He grinned and wagged the knife.
"Mick wants you alive, bastard. And I aim to deliver." He deftly
swiped the keen blade from side to side, moving forward as he did.
The Warrior gave ground slowly, his eyes never leaving the gleaming survival
knife while his right hand streaked to his side, reaching under the leather vest, and drew
his Bowie.
Suddenly Marlin halted, taken aback by the size of the giant's knife.
"Whoa! You play for keeps."
Blade had no time for idle conversation. He lanced the right Bowie at
his adversary, making Marlin give way and skip to the left, and the moment the Pagan
moved, Blade has his left hand on his other Bowie and knife flashed out and around and in,
straight into Marlin's chest, sinking all the way to the hilt. |