James Axler – Starfall

Elmore pulled a sullen face. “You can’t make me go out into that.”

More bullets from Callton’s men were starting to rip bark from the branches and tree trunks nearby. Other men crept through the forest, closing in on their position.

Ryan looked at his son. “If that triple-stupe bastard doesn’t move when you tell him, you put a round through his head, make sure he’s chilled.”

“I’ll do it, Dad.”

“Now get them up and let’s move.” Ryan pushed him­self up, bringing the Steyr to his shoulder. He fired into the approaching line of coldhearts, putting two men down im­mediately and causing the others to go to ground.

Jak broke cover and stayed low, followed immediately by Doc. Callton’s men shot at them at once, but Ryan, J.B. and Mildred blasted into them, their bullets finding targets with unerring precision. At the same time, the gunners man­ning the trading post caught their attackers in a cross fire. In the next instant, Annie laid down a fierce barrage with the 20 mm cannon. The big rounds chewed holes in the ground and toppled trees, breaking some of them and leav­ing trunks four or five feet tall.

Ryan held his position until J.B. and Mildred got clear. Jak plunged over the edge in the distance, racing down the rope ladder. The sounds of blasterfire slammed up from below, letting Ryan know he’d been correct in assuming there’d be men positioned there.

He reloaded the Steyr, then raced after the companions. Instead of heading for the bridge area, he stayed along the tree line, driving his feet hard against the ground.

Two coldhearts pursued him. They whipped through the underbrush, closing on him like hounds scenting the kill. Ryan raced on, ignoring them for a moment. Running like they were, they weren’t able to effectively use their weap­ons.

Reaching the edge of the precipice overlooking the pier, Ryan threw himself down in a diving roll. He came up on one knee, pulling the Steyr to his shoulder. When the open sights underneath the telescopic lens centered on the lead man’s chest, Ryan squeezed the trigger and rode out the recoil.

The bullet smashed through the man’s heart, tearing out a section of his spine as it punched through.

Ryan moved to the second target, tracking the man’s efforts to take cover. The coldheart dived into the brush headfirst. Unable to get a clear shot at the gunner’s head, Ryan settled for shooting him twice in the groin. Even if the man lived, he’d be too busy holding himself together to do much more fighting.

Rolling on toward the precipice, Ryan peered down. The boat was still tied up at the pier, a promising sign in its own right. But coldhearts were aboard it, shooting at the companions as they made their way down the rope ladders.

Ryan had expected the attempted ambush, and he’d known the companions were going to be vulnerable. But there’d been no choice.

He pulled the Steyr to his shoulder and aimed at a gunner aboard Junie as a 20 mm cannon round exploded close enough to shower him with dirt. He ignored it, concentrat­ing on picking up the targets aboard the boat.

Bullets ripped through the rope ladders, splintering some of the planks and making others jump like live things.

Ryan’s first round took the man in the throat, nearly de­capitating him before he fell overboard. Two more rounds were necessary to take out the gunner riding the unruly prow as the boat bucked in the raging torrent of the river. Whitecaps danced on the water, twisting and turning before going under and reappearing.

J.B. accounted for a third as Ryan made the shift. The Armorer’s rounds tracked across the deck, throwing up splinters and leaving pockmarks behind, then smashed into the gunner.

The fourth man hid back by the wheel as Ryan chased him into cover. Jak was on the final set of steps leading to the pier when the thick black smoke curled up from the boat.

“Fifeblast!” Ryan snarled. He didn’t have a chance to see how bad the fire was before bullets drove him to cover himself. He cursed some more, feeding shells into the Steyr. Glancing back at the trading post, he discovered the attack by Callton’s coldhearts had all but broken off. Dead men draped the broken terrain.