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The Mars Arena PDF

408 Pages·1997·1.07 MB·English
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%20-%20Mars%20Arena.html Cold talons pinched his skin "Dean…" someone said, and he couldn't believe how much it sounded like Krysty. Something shimmered into being on his right. It was impossibly close, near enough to reach out and touch him. He'd have seen anyone or anything that had come that close to him. Then he saw the face, made out the features. She was indistinct, as if he were seeing her through a heavy fog. "Krysty?" Dean said, not believing it. "Your father is coming for you. Look for him." The words sounded as if they were coming from a long distance, then she was gone. Before the boy could puzzle over her appearance and what it meant, the door burst open. Framed in it was a nightmare figure Dean remembered well: a giant mutie pig, its beady, merciless eyes nearly buried in wrinkles of scarred gristle. Before he could draw the Browning, the beast started for him, squealing shrilly in anticipation of an easy kill. The Mars Arena #38 in the Deathland series James Axler A GOLD EAGLE BOOK FROM WORLDWIDE TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG • STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN MADRID • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...-%20Deathlands%20038%20- %20Mars% 20Arena.html (1 of 291) [12/29/2004 10:49:26 PM] file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/James%20Axler%20- %20Deathlands%20038 %20-%20Mars%20Arena.html If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book." First edition August 1997 ISBN 0-373-62538-3 THE MARS ARENA Copyright © 1997 by Worldwide Library. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Worldwide Library, forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Worldwide Library, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9. All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention. ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries. Printed in U.S.A. Some say that men love games Some say that war's a game Page 1 And from the Roman days The red god sets the pace Mars, it's always Mars With Venus in his arms file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...-%20Deathlands%20038%20- %20Mars% 20Arena.html (2 of 291) [12/29/2004 10:49:26 PM] file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/James%20Axler%20- %20Deathlands%20038 %20-%20Mars%20Arena.html Don't they know the real arena She draws blood to stoke her love And the Reaper shows his bones Shedding kindness like a cloak Mars, his nights of bliss Venus and her blood-red kiss —from the Liar cycle the rock group Polo Heads THE DEATHLANDS SAGA This world is their legacy, a world born in the violent nuclear spasm of 2001 that was the bitter outcome of a struggle for global dominance. There is no real escape from this shockscape where life always hangs in the balance, vulnerable to newly demonic nature, barbarism, lawlessness. But they are the warrior survivalists, and they endure—in the way of the lion, the hawk and the tiger, true to nature's heart despite its ruination. Ryan Cawdor: The privileged son of an East Coast baron. Acquainted with betrayal from a tender age, he is a master of the hard realities. Krysty Wroth: Harmony ville's own Titian-haired beauty, a woman with the strength of tempered steel. Her premonitions and Gaia powers have been fostered by her Mother Sonja. J. B. Dix, the Armorer : Weapons master and Ryan's close ally, he, too, honed his skills traversing the Deathlands with the legendary Trader. Doctor Theophilus Tanner : Torn from his family and a gentler life in 1896, Doc has been thrown into a future he couldn't have imagined. Dr. Mildred Wyeth: Her father was killed by the Ku Klux Klan, but her fate is not much lighter. Restored from predark cryogenic suspension, she brings twentieth-century healing skills to a nightmare. healing skills to a nightmare. file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...-%20Deathlands%20038%20- %20Mars% 20Arena.html (3 of 291) [12/29/2004 10:49:26 PM] file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/James%20Axler%20- %20Deathlands%20038 %20-%20Mars%20Arena.html Jak Lauren: Page 2 A true child of the wastelands, reared on adversity, loss and danger, the albino teenager is a fierce fighter and loyal friend. Dean Cawdor: Ryan's young son by Sharona accepts the only world he knows, and yet he is the seedling bearing the promise of tomorrow. In a world where all was lost, they are humanity's last hope… Chapter One It was the moon that gave the brushwooders away, hanging against the sable sky, as white and bright as a man's skull just carved clean. Ryan Cawdor stifled a curse as he moved through the shadows and silence of the forest, quiet himself so the stalkers wouldn't know he was among them. The Steyr rifle that had seen him out of so many tight spots across Deathlands was hard and sure in his hands. Jak Lauren had noticed the brushwooders first, even before the sun had dropped like a burst heart against the leaden evening sky. But Ryan's combat sense had been prickling the back of his neck an hour before that. Ryan held his breath as he watched the brushwooders, not wanting the thin gray fog to give away his position. The pursuers had broken into at least two groups that he could identify, and walked up the broken terrain in a staggered line. It was a pincer movement, as old as war itself. The one-eyed warrior had used it a few times himself, and he knew it would be deadly effective. He and his companions were outnumbered at least seven to one. The sky was clear at the moment, but against the mountains the weather could change in an instant. The wind came out of the north and carried a wolfs bite. Ryan had dressed warmly, wearing a heavy coat he'd found after he and his companions had raided file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...- %20Deathlands%20038%20-%20Mars% 20Arena.html (4 of 291) [12/29/2004 10:49:26 PM] file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/James%20Axler%20- %20Deathlands%20038 %20-%20Mars%20Arena.html deserted houses along their trek in from the gateway among the Western Islands. But he'd had to shed the coat to double back on their would-be attackers because the material was too light colored. He felt as if he were freezing on the outside, but inside his survival instinct was burning him up. He was a tall man, a couple inches over six feet, broad shouldered and clean limbed. His dark curling hair held a frosting of snow from the flurries that appeared suddenly over the Sierra Nevada along the Cific Ocean. Most women would have called him handsome, if not for the black leather patch that covered his left eye, and the cruel, puckered scar that ran from the corner of his right eye, down his cheek to just above his jawbone. Two pointmen, one the head of each group of the pincer arms, met and knelt to examine the ground in the light of the full moon. Ryan knew they were following footsteps his group had left in the damp earth underneath the crust of snow. Given the weather conditions, it was hard to pass unnoticed even as practiced as his people were. They'd seen the brushwooders earlier in the day without being seen themselves, not many hours after they'd made the jump through the mat-trans into the area. It had taken Ryan only a few minutes of observation to figure them for the raiding parties he'd been told about. The companions had encountered a group of farmers in the early evening and learned that brushwooders had fired several farmhouses and killed a dozen people. It was part of a spree of violence that had been going on for days. Violence was nothing new in Deathlands, or to the companions. The fleeing group of farmers had also warned Ryan that the weapons they carried would be highly prized by the Page 3 brushwooders. Their leader had designs on consolidating his hold on the area and killing anyone who stood to oppose him. Adding to his armament was necessary to achieve his goal. Ryan had kept his people clear of the roving hands of brushwooders, but their search for a pass through the mountains had brought them here, and within sight of one of the brushwooder patrols. Now they were running through the darkness for their lives. Rising, his nose tilted up and forward as if he were taking in the air like a Rising, his nose tilted up and forward as if he were taking in the air like a hunting hound, the pointman nearer to Ryan turned to his group and pointed toward the east, where the terrain grew steeper. He moved on, moonlight glinting from the blaster in his hands. He'd torn branches off trees and stuck them inside his clothing for camouflage, as well as down the neck of his coat and in the sleeves. Other branches were pinned against his file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...-%20Deathlands%20038%20- %20Mars% 20Arena.html (5 of 291) [12/29/2004 10:49:26 PM] file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/James%20Axler%20- %20Deathlands%20038 %20-%20Mars%20Arena.html chest and shoulders. Footfalls crunched into the snow behind Ryan. He whirled, bringing up the Steyr to cover the lone shadow twenty feet away. "Me," J. B. Dix whispered. "How many?" Ryan asked. "I counted forty-two," J.B. replied, closing the distance between them without being spotted, "then I gave up. It's bastard cold out here, and I'm not happy about them not being sociable enough to fall for our little trick back at the other camp." When they'd found out they were being followed, Ryan had kept his group moving, ready to defend themselves. Once he'd seen the brushwooders were willing to wait, he'd guessed they were waiting to ambush the travelers while they were sleeping rather than risking an all-out confrontation. Tense minutes had passed before they acted as if they were making camp not more than three miles back. "Could be they did," Ryan replied. "Mebbe they waited until the camp fire we left died a bit, then crept down to where we left those rocks piled up under blankets and realized we'd already gone." "Didn't have any trouble picking up our trail," J.B. observed, taking off his steel- "Didn't have any trouble picking up our trail," J.B. observed, taking off his steel- rimmed glasses for a moment to clean them. When he put them back into place, he reached up and gave his battered fedora a tug, making sure it was settled into place. "I figure Krysty and the others are a hundred yards ahead of the pack," Ryan said. "Yeah." J.B. glanced at his wrist chron. "It's been long enough." "This bunch of coldhearts have got their noses opened up for the chilling they're expecting to dish out," Ryan said, nodding at the rear of the two pincer movements. "They aren't going to expect us to come up on them from behind." "We want to introduce ourselves fast or slow?" "Slow," Ryan answered. "They aren't interested in moving quick, and they're getting file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...- %20Deathlands%20038%20-%20Mars% 20Arena.html (6 of 291) [12/29/2004 10:49:26 PM] file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/James%20Axler%20- %20Deathlands%20038 %20-%20Mars%20Arena.html spread out. If we put a few of them down, it'll only add to the confusion when they start running into their own dead backtracking us after the wheels come off." J.B. looked up at the dark sky. "The way this snow is picking up and sticking so quick to what's already here, we could buy a few minutes. By the time they get themselves regrouped, the Page 4 footsteps going up that mountainside will have disappeared." "Mebbe we'll have disappeared right alongside them." Ryan flashed his old friend a grim smile.

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