James Axler – The Mars Arena

Krysty brought the horse to a stop at the edge of the swimming pool, her eyes focused on him, guided more than by just her vision.

“Time to shake the dust of this place from us, lover,” she called across the water.

Bullets from the guards on top of the wall suddenly sheared through the trees over the riders and horses. J.B. swung up a rifle he’d liberated from someone along the way. The Armorer cracked off expert shots, dropping two of the sec men from the top of the wall. One of them fell onto the top of the hotel, and the other took the forty-foot plunge into the swimming pool. The rest of the sec guards went into hiding as Jak, Mildred, Krysty, Moosh Wandell and Thompson added their fire to J.B.’s.

“Go,” Ryan told Dean.

Without a word the boy dived into the water and began to swim briskly, followed by Conor and Perry.

Holstering the SIG-Sauer and pulling up the Steyr, Ryan picked off two snipers, further demoralizing the sec crew overhead. He dived into the water, staying under for a time to cut through it more swiftly. When he surfaced, he was barely two strokes behind Dean and ahead of the two other boys.

He reached the bank at the same time Dean did, then took the reins Krysty offered. “Good to see you again,” he told her as he swung into the saddle. “After seeing you when I was in the Mirage, I wasn’t counting on it.”

“I know,” Krysty replied. “Wasn’t sure I’d be here myself.”

Puzzled by her words but knowing he didn’t have the time to investigate them further, Ryan reached out briefly to touch her hand. He wanted to know for sure she was real, was there. Her fingers twined with his, strong, sure and permanent.

She leaned forward in her stirrups and brushed a kiss against his lips. “We get the time, lover, I’ll show you how real I am.”

Ryan smiled at her in spite of the situation and the restless horse tramping the ground beneath him. “I’ll hold you to that.” Then he reined the horse around. “Which way?”

“West,” she replied. “There’s a wall there separating the pit from the old convention center.”

“I remember the convention center,” Mildred said, “but I don’t see how it’s going to help us.”

“It has an underground garage,” Krysty said.

“Just another wall,” Mildred replied.

The flame-haired woman pulled out two remote-control detonators. “Remember that old Christian story about the walls of Jericho? Well, I’ve got a couple of Gabriel’s horns here.”

The next few minutes were a hurried blur for Ryan. He stayed in the saddle, one hand filled with the SIG-Sauer as he kicked the horse’s sides and kept it at a full gallop. He shot at everything that moved muties, creatures and surviving members of the barons teams.

They stayed within the trees as much as they could, taking advantage of the cover offered. With the rough terrain the wags were struggling to close the distance, not able to gain much on the horses.

The horses, however, were only flesh and blood. All of them were sweat-flecked from their exertions, looking as if they’d been dipped in soapy water. Ryan knew if they had to run them much farther, they’d burst the animals’ hearts.

As the group took a final sweep through the remaining forest, Moosh Wandell caught a round in the side of his head that dumped him from his saddle.

The others didn’t slow their mounts for an instant. If the man wasn’t dead, he was certainly too wounded to keep up with them.

Ryan fired a half-dozen shots at the tree less than a hundred yards away. He concentrated on where he’d seen the muzzle-flash that had claimed Moosh. A few seconds after the rolling thunder had died away, a body tumbled from the branches.

“Good shooting,” J.B. said.

“Lucky,” Ryan growled.

Jak reached out and captured the riderless horse’s reins. “Doc has own mount now.”

Another moment through the treacherous forest and uncertain footing of the terrain, and they were at the edge of the brush in front of the wall that Krysty had guided them to.