Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Death's Head Day of the Damned - David Gunn

"“Sven,” Anton says.

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Hey,” says my gun. “Always a first time.”

We’re circling, the fury and I.

It lunges and I block its wrist. Like being hit with a steel bar. Next time I’m going to use my combat arm. I step sideways and it steps sideways. Not sure this thing is alive in a sense I understand. But it mimics my steps perfectly.

And it’s going to be a bastard to kill.

It lunges, I block.

When it makes its fifth or sixth lunge, I step into it. And feel the creature’s fist crack open my chest. Bones break and ribs are forced apart as it reaches inside.

Hurts like hell.

That is where the fury comes unstuck. Its skeleton might be metal. But so is my combat arm, which is piston-driven and twisted with braided hose. Plus I kill on instinct. Now, I might have learned to keep that under control . . ."

4 out of 5