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shotgun up to my shoulder, sighted as if aiming for a clay pigeon, and let fly with the outer trigger. The living-dead female cop pitched forward with- out a sound, her head vanishing in a haze of red and green blood and gray brain matter. The other two growled and started to turn, but the soldier-zombie took two taps in the head from Arlene before he got even halfway around. She kept her AB-10 on single- shot; no sense wasting ammo. The third zombie was armed only with a stick of some sort; it looked like it used to be a gas station attendant. It shambled toward us, unafraid, of course; its only desire was to beat us into a bloody pulp and perhaps eat the remains. Jill whimpered and sank to one knee, fumbling her AR-19 around. Her numb, nerveless hands shook, and she suddenly had not even the strength to pull back the T-bar and cock the weapon. Well, no reason to dump a death on her conscience, even a zombie death; she'd have plenty more chances. Sparing her a friendly glance, I raised my shotgun again, the outer barrel still unfired. But Albert beat me to the punch, expertly firing a quick, three-round burst that caught the zombie in the face, destroying it instantly. The guy was good: he had literally fired from the hip on rock 'n' roll and tapped it perfectly. I stole a look; his face was grim, determined. I had no trouble believing he had been a sniper. The soup course consisted of five imps who were attracted by the noise. Given the time of day, thinking of breakfast would be more appropriate. Time to fry the bacon. They came shuffling around the corner, already wadding up balls of flaming snot. One was a fast mother; it heaved its flame wad before we could get off a shot, and Arlene had to hit the deck to evade. I heard a snik-click, as Jill finally ran the slide, cocking the hammer and slamming a round into the chamber. I discharged my remaining barrel, knocking an imp to the dirt; it was still alive. I crabbed sideways, cracking the breech and sliding two more shells inside, while Albert fired short bursts, alternating between the nearest imps. Each burst drove the target backward a few steps. Then a dead-eye spiny from the back ranks chucked a mucus ball over the front ranks, catching Albert on the shoulder. It splattered across his armor, still burning, and he yelped and dropped the Uzi clone. Arlene got to one knee, clicked the lever one notch down, and began firing bursts at the still-advancing imps. She focused fire on one imp at a lime, taking them down. One of them slid by us somehow; none of us saw the damned thing. All of a sudden I turned and it was in my face, hissing and screaming like death on two legs. 16 I backpedaled but took a piece of flame wad in the face anyway. Blinded and agonized, I dropped the shotgun to the pavement and grabbed my face, screaming. I heard and felt the 180-kilogram monster looming over me, and I steeled myself to take a savage swipe to the ribs. The swipe never came. I heard the high-pitched "rim shot" sound of the AR-19 discharging on full auto, and the monster pitched forward against me. I rolled to slip it as it fell; I sure didn't want to get crushed underneath. By the time I was able to blink my eyesight back, the rest of the spinys were room-temp . . . and Jill stood over the body of her very first kill, managing to look simultaneously triumphant, sick, and scared to death. "Congratulations, girl," I croaked, still grimacing at the pain, "virgin no more." "Thanks." She looked as ambivalent as she proba- bly would in a couple of years, when she lost the other form of virginity . . . unless I'm showing my age by presuming she hadn't already. My mistake; one of the critters wasn't quite dead. When we huddled to assess damages, it leapt to its feet and took off down the alley. Arlene, the Hermes of the group, bolted after the thing, Albert hot on her heels. We raced the imp. I'd never seen one move this fast before. Was it that this one had the sense to be afraid, or had the genetic engineering made some improve- ments? The imp scooted around a corner. Arlene followed, then Albert, and finally Yours Truly. Jill was some- where behind. We spied an open door across the alley, and Arlene and Albert made a beeline for it; but I noticed a nearby trailer was rocking back and forth, as if someone had just entered. "Over here!" I yelled. I wasn't used to an imp doing something as clever as opening a door to mislead his pursuers before doubling back to his real objective; but then I hadn't expected the imp on Phobos to talk either. The door was locked, but a trailer door hardly merited the waste of ammo. As I started to kick it, I heard a familiar sound. Once you've heard the humming-whizzing sound of a teleporter, you never forget it. One good thump and we were in; a few sparks of light hung in space over the rectangular piece of metal. "Damn," I said. "Shazam!" said Arlene. "Huh?" asked Albert. "Just making a little joke before your time," she said. "Hey, I've had friends who take that stuff," Albert countered. "It's bad stuff, ma'am." "We'll get into the cross-cultural discussion later, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |