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IF HE'D HAD TIME to think about it, Ryan would probably have figured it as the
best shot he'd ever made in his life.
At more than fifty yards, in shifting moonlight, his target was the four-inch
blade of the sacrificial knife. The laser-enhanced sniper scope was steadied,
the rifle rock-still, stock against his cheek. Ryan held his breath and
squeezed the trigger.
The Heckler & Koch was set on single-shot. In the silence, the crack of the
assault blaster was shockingly loud.
The 4.7 mm round pinged off the steel, kicking the knife spinning from Jak's
fingers, then ricocheted into the trees.
Mildred opened her eyes, staring straight into the teenager's shocked,
bone-white face.
"What fuck was& " He shook his head in bewilderment.
Then the world exploded into bloody, screaming chaos.
AFTER THAT FIRST single shot, Ryan had slid the control on the G-12 to triple-
shot. J.B.'s MP-7 SD-8 was also on triple, its silencer muffling the noise of
the bullets. Krysty's P7A-13 Heckler & Koch pistol filled her right hand, and
she was ready to follow the two men as they charged the mass of people.
In the first fifteen seconds, without a single hand being raised against them,
they chilled more than twenty of the villagers. All three tried to avoid
shooting the children, but it wasn't a time for conventional niceness. The
killing floor wasn't a place for careful moral consideration. The Vikings
would have wasted them if the roles had been reversed,.
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Ryan, firing from the hip, tried to shoot Jorund Thoraldson, but the warrior
baron was quick. He dived for cover at the first shot, scurrying on hands and
knees into the trees on the farther side of the large clearing. Erik
Stonebiter half turned to
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Mildred, hefting the large, polished ceremonial ax he carried. For a moment
she thought he was going to gut her with the heavy steel, but the clatter of
the rifles disconcerted him, and he dropped the weapon, joining the screaming
rush for cover.
Jak had drawn one of his own knives and stood staring at the naked, chained
woman, as if he didn't quite recognize her.
"Jak."
His eyes still seemed blurred and unfocused, and he leaned over her, his
breath spiced and bitter on her cheek. "You?" he said questioningly. "Who you?
Who?"
"Stop sounding like a goddamned owl and get the chains off me, kid."
"Don't call& " He brandished the knife threatening, then his eyes cleared and a
grin slipped into place. "Hey, know you. You're all right, Mildred."
"Sure. Get me out of here, Jak. Please."
"Use ax," he replied. He picked up the weapon that Erik had let fall and he
hefted it to shoulder height, grunting with the effort.
Out of the corner of his eye Ryan saw the gesture and began to turn, thinking
the albino boy had gone crazed and was about to hack Mildred apart. But he saw
in the next moment what was happening.
"Get her free and dressed, Jak! Gotta get out of this place."
"I'll second that," Mildred said fervently, gritting her teeth as the ax blade
howled off the iron chain, striking sparks from the stone altar.
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J.B. saw the problem and sprinted over to the sacrificial block, hurdling the
dead and the dying, blood splashing across his legs. He leveled his rifle and
blew apart the links from Mildred's ankles and wrists. He grabbed her by the
arm and helped her to stand.
"Good to see you guys," she managed to get out, leaning on the altar to
recover her balance.
Miraculously the amphitheater was almost deserted.
Terrified by the sudden appearance of the three outlanders, their blasters
providing instant tickets to Valhalla, the Norsemen and their families had
fled into the forest. Ryan and his friends could hear them shouting and
screaming as they ran deeper into the trees.
"Everyone okay?" Ryan called.
"In another couple of seconds I'd have been the first course in a Viking pizza
feast. Jak looked like he was going to go through with it." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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