Doomsday Warrior 04 - Bloody America Read Free Page B

lay moaning on the yellowish crest. He moved slowly to the left, wanting to draw the creature’s attention away from Langford. He glanced back as Mt. Ed’s hand came looking for a hold over the loose-packed top.
    “Careful man,” Rockson yelled down. “Move slowly. I don’t want to spook this thing.” He looked down quickly at the shotpistol, fully loaded. It would take more than a few shots to get that thing. Its scales looked like hammered pieces of half-inch metal, and close to impenetrable. The lizard creature flicked out a long red-forked tongue every few seconds, tasting the air around it. Its orange eyes burned like mini-suns set far back in the huge green head. There was still blood around the creature’s black, quarter-sized nostrils. It had eaten only hours before, but now that it realized it was relatively safe from the impending disaster, it felt hungry again. The dim thought of food slowly penetrated the monster’s brain and then its musculature. It suddenly dropped into a half crouch, pulling its long snakelike neck down. Its legs bent like springs, ready to pounce. Rock didn’t like the posturings at all—the thing was going to strike.
    The Doomsday Warrior scanned it quickly up and down for any weakness. Its throat just beneath the lower and larger jaw looked unprotected by scales. It had to be flexible so the lizard could chew and swallow huge chunks of meat. Rock fixed the throat in his mind.
    Mt. Ed pulled himself completely up over the side, grabbing the biggest of his rifles as he rolled over onto his stomach.
    “Fire!” Rockson yelled from thirty feet down the small plateau. “Distract it.” Mt. Ed didn’t flinch as he sighted up the ugly predator, aiming for the top of the thigh. Maybe he could sever some muscles, take away its mobility. He pulled the trigger and the six-foot-long crude-looking homemade rifle exploded out a fist-sized shell. The shot dug in just an inch below the spot the mountain man had picked and slammed into one of the lizard’s steel-hard scales. The slug bounced off, dropping back onto the soft dirt, though the creature let out a roar of pain and anger. It hissed loudly and leaped toward Mt. Ed, its tongue snapping out, its front arms reaching for the human who was nearly as big as they were. Rockson jumped, too, perpendicular to the creature. Their arcs carried them just past one another, and as Rockson approached he aimed the shotgun pistol at the lizard-thing’s throat. Before he could pull the trigger something whipped around his leg and slammed him out of the air to the ground. The creature’s seven-foot-long tail—it had caught his foot as it jumped. The thing was amazingly agile. Rock fell to the dirt, the tail letting go instantly as soon as it had knocked him off balance. He hit hard, almost flat on his face and stomach so swift had been the pull of the long green appendage. He shook his head a few times to clear his brain and then rolled over quickly in case the thing was about to land on his back.
    But it was engaged in other business. On top of Mt. Ed. The two of them were battling away—a war of the gargantuas. The mountain man was trying to wrestle it to the ground, but it was too strong even for him. It snapped its tail forward and wrapped the end around both of the human prey’s legs and pulled. The big fellow who had saved Rockson’s life was slammed to the yellow dirt with a loud thwack. He reached for his long hunting blade and had it halfway out when the lizard came in for the kill. Like a snake striking, its head and jaws moved in a blur. It snapped the fearsome rows of teeth into the man’s neck and slammed shut with all its strength. Mt. Ed’s body shuddered violently as the head was nearly severed from the neck. Blood gushed like a river from the opened gash and splattered out in all directions, onto the lizard and the cold hilltop ground. The thing snapped its tongue in and out of the red neck, sipping the hot blood, slurping it