The rifle spit a narrow tongue of fire, and the bullet chunked into Ryan’s right wrist, just below the swelling muscles of his forearm. Blood sprayed, slicking the butt of the SIG-Sauer, and he felt the shock in the soles of his feet. His fingers immediately lost all sensation and strength, and the blaster clattered to the stone walkway.
With his left hand Ryan backfisted the barrel of the Gewehr aside and dived on Joe. Peripherally he glimpsed more warriors running down the steps, and he heard Krysty and Jak shout his name.
Arrows sailed through the air, and J.B., Krysty, Mildred, Jak and Doc plunged from behind the ziggurat, running along opposite sides of the walkway. They opened fire, short sprays of flame erupting from the barrels of their blasters.
Ryan pummeled Joe’s face with his left fist and pressed on the rifle with his knees, trapping it lengthwise between Joe’s hands and his chest.
They were locked too closely for the warriors to risk loosing a flight of arrows, but the Lakota raced forward with knives and short stabbing spears.
The steady blasterfire from Ryan’s friends converged on the warriors, and he glimpsed a bare-chested man jerk and stagger backward, a crimson spray jetting from a bullet-severed carotid.
Behind him, over the thunder of blasterfire, he heard Krysty cry out in pain and surprise. Instinctively his head turned in that direction.
He saw Krysty, her back against the curving cavern wall, slowly sliding toward the floor of the walkway. Her left hand was pressed against her chest, just below her left breast. A feathered shaft jutted between splayed fingers. She kept her hand there as she eased into a sitting position, as though she were trying to catch the blood. The barrel of her Smith amp; Wesson clunked against the stone.
For an instant their eyes met. Krysty’s showed a dull green in the bright green glow. Ryan saw death in them.
Then Doc was at her side, and before Ryan could make another move, a heavy, deerskin-shod foot slammed the side of his head, twisting him backward. He flailed at the air, landed heavily on his back. He blinked back the cloud of gray the kick had brought to his vision.
Little Mountain loomed directly over him, his muscular torso streaked with a sliding stream of scarlet. He held a tomahawk back over his head, and he let out a scream of anger as he brought the blade flashing down.
J.B.’s Uzi let loose with a long burst. Twisting, literally jumping from the impact of the bullets, Little Mountain crashed back inside the stairwell. Bullet holes sewed dark little periods across his pectorals.
The bore of the Gewehr inscribed a short half arc and centered on Ryan’s face, staring at him with a hollow cyclopean eye. Joe squeezed the trigger.
No jet of flame spit from the muzzle, and even over the sound of blasterfire, Ryan distinctly heard the click of the firing pin striking an empty chamber.
Ryan catapulted forward wolfishly, his left hand striking like a great snake, closing tightly around Joe’s throat. The Lakota snarled, and his own hands darted to Ryan’s neck.
They struggled, rolled and fell over the edge of the walkway and dropped onto the floor. They half slid, half rolled toward the lip of the well and the curtain of green radiance.
Fighting to their knees, they locked together like statues. Ryan exerted all of his strength in his arm, his fingers tight around the slim column of Joe’s neck. A choking gasp burst from the Lakota’s bloody lips as he sought to tighten his double-handed grip on Ryan’s throat.
Their faces were grinning snarls, veins standing out on their temples, hair damp, sweat pouring down their faces.
Fear suddenly flooded Joe’s eyes, and the wind whistled from between his parted teeth, blowing droplets of blood. His face darkened, taking on a purplish tint Ryan’s fingers ground deeper into the man’s throat tendons, crushing them in upon jugular and windpipe.
Removing his hands from Ryan’s throat, Joe began a frenzied wrench and heave, trying to throw himself backward or to one side. He grasped his adversary’s wrist, trying to tear away the steely, strangling fingers.
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