James Axler – The Mars Arena

“Mr. Brody,” Dean said, looking at the headmaster, “you make a big deal here at the school about fair play and honesty. I’m being honest. I’m sorry I broke your rules, I truly am, especially if I’m gonna get kicked out over it. But if you’re even thinking for a minute about blaming Phaedra for any of this, well, then, I don’t think my dad knew exactly the place he was leaving me at. If Phaedra gets punished and her not guilty in any of this, I’ll have to kick my own self out, because I don’t want to be part of no place that does that.”

Silence filled the room when Dean finished speaking. He couldn’t believe he’d talked so much. If he hadn’t been mad, he wouldn’t have.

Brody broke the silence. “Thank you, Dean, for bringing my responsibility in this matter to the forefront of my mind. And for your forthrightness.”

Dean shoved out of the chair and started for the door.

He was scared, but he kind of felt good all at the same time.

LESS THAN A MINUTE after they’d started their moves against the sniper’s position, Ryan and J.B. worked out a rhythm. The Armorer would snap off a few rounds with his Uzi, splattering the rocks around the unseen gunman, and Ryan would bolt into motion. It took the sniper five or ten seconds to get up the courage to crank off a round. By that time Ryan had usually found his next bit of cover.

Flinging his hands in front of his face as he counted silently, Ryan threw himself forward. He hit the hard ground and slid behind a broken shelf of rock. A .50-caliber round dug into the earth only a few inches from his left boot, leaving a hole he could almost put his fist into.

The next bullet came before Ryan was ready for it, shattering a blocky stone in front of him and sending pieces of it thudding into his legs. He lost his balance and fell, rolling to the side to protect his rifle.

“Ryan!” the Armorer yelled.

“I’m okay.” Ryan shoved himself to his feet and took shelter beside an outcrop from the ridge beside him. “Move up while I cover you.” He shouldered the Steyr, putting the cross hairs over the sniper’s perch. “Go!”

He squeezed off a half-dozen rounds as J.B. broke cover and ran. Even at 250 yards, the shots could have been centered on a pie plate when they struck the sniper’s position.

J.B. came up beside him, breathing deep. “It’ll work better if we leapfrog it. First me, then you.”

Ryan nodded. He glanced back toward the area where Krysty, Doc and Mildred lay waiting. He’d told them to stay put. With too many targets taking the field, the sniper would have had a better chance to get one of them. “Ready?”

“As I ever was,” J.B. replied. “Do it.”

The Armorer sidled up to the corner and burned another short burst toward the sniper, then broke cover and ran.

DOWN IN THE BAYOUS where he’d been born, there were stories told around camp fires that Jak Lauren could sneak up on mutie gators and take the teeth from their jaws before they knew he was among them. The albino had never contributed to the stories, except by doing things others were too afraid to do or weren’t able to do. To Jak it had all been about survival.

And it was survival now that drove him from hiding into an assault up the narrow chimney of rock where the sniper hid. The climb through the tops of the trees at the edge of the cliff face had been simple compared to the vertical challenge in front of him.

The rock chimney stood almost forty feet up, looking like some kind of turret on a castle he’d once seen in a child’s faded fairy-tale book. A trail curled around it like a dog’s tail wrapped around itself.

The trail was tempting, but Jak knew it would leave him open to anyone keeping watch over it. The only other way to reach the sniper’s perch was straight up.

The Sharps rifle banged loudly again, the report echoing in the narrow press of mountaintops surrounding the sniper’s perch.