James Axler – The Mars Arena

JAK LAUREN MOVED instinctively, rolling to his left, already wary since the blaster had erupted down the mountainside. He swiveled his head, trying to figure out what had attacked him. All he’d noticed on some subliminal level was an explosion of movement from the snowbank ahead of him.

Broken terrain ranged all around him. Some of it looked smoothed over by the drifting snow, but it was deceiving. A step on unsafe ground meant a twisted or broken ankle for an unwary traveler. Twice he’d found areas where the snow had covered cracks in the mountain big enough for a body to plummet through. The first one ended in a shattered death’s-grin of rock thirty feet down. He never had seen the bottom to the second.

A sibilant hiss ripped through the air.

To Jak, it sounded like a man stropping a razor, working up a proper shaving edge. With the wind blowing, it was hard to tell exactly what direction it came from.

He wore a long coat over his regular clothes, but he shucked out of it. Even with the drop in the temperature and the howling wind, he knew he could stand the cold for a few minutesespecially if those minutes added to his life expectancy.

He drew the .357 Magnum Colt Python from his belt and a pair of his leaf-bladed throwing knives.

The hiss cut through the air again, followed by immediate movement. This time Jak got a better look at the creature.

It shot up from the ground as if fired from the mouth of a blaster. Diamond shaped and at least a foot and a half across from opposing comers, the beast sailed through the air straight at Jak’s face.

The teenager ducked and spun, bringing up the .357.

From the brief glimpse he’d caught of the creature, Jak knew it was white and had two deep aquamarine eyes set close together. A thin, barbed tail almost four feet long trailed out behind it.

When it hit the snow, the beast vanished, blending in like a chameleon.

Jak fired three shots that ripped through the snow and hammered rocks into pieces. At first he’d figured the creature was albino, but the way it vanished into the landscape let him know it had controlat least to some degreeover its coloration.

Albinos he knew about. He himself was bone white and had ruby red eyes. His long hair was the color of fresh milk. At something short of five and a half feet tall and built whipcord lean, he didn’t look like the deadly efficient killer that he was. He’d been born and bred in Cajun country in the south of Deathlands, but he’d ranged far and wide, going up against his share of predators.

With the sibilant cry, the creature rocketed at him again. The tail whipped in readiness as it took to the air, and a large, fanged mouth opened on its underside.

Considering the aerodynamics of the mutie beast, Jak figured that it scooted along the snow until it built up enough speed to get airborne. It didn’t need much room or time in the winds. And evidently it knew how to best use those winds to its advantage.

The beast cut through the air, streaking for Jak’s neck, flipping sideways to lose altitude and change direction suddenly so it approached from an arc.

Instead of dodging this time, Jak took three running steps toward the creature, which didn’t break off its attack. The tail whipped forward under its flat belly.

At the last moment, Jak leaped high into the air, using his innate acrobatic abilities and spring-steel muscles to their fullest. He put out a hand, and his fingertips lightly grazed the slick, oily membrane of the animal’s body.

The mutie beast shrieked in anger, flapping its sides to change direction. With the wind against it, there was no way it could turn, but it became a more challenging target.

Jak flipped over the creature, coming around with his feet over his head and facing in the direction of the creature’s glide path. No more than five feet from his target, he pulled the trigger through the remaining three rounds in the heavy blaster. As he continued his flip, he twisted to land on his feet facing the mutie beast.