CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Vastor Ugrich grinned as he came up over the hill. The free Mudokon was lying there on the dirt, one hand under his chest – indicating the area the Snuzi bullet had penetrated – and was moaning in a voice that would have been pitiful if the Slig didn’t want him dead. How could a Mudokon be so stupid to wander around in the wild alone, not accompanied by one of their Slig or Glukkon masters, or – as in this case – why would a free Mudokon not even have a gun?
Oh well. For whatever reason, this Mudokon was very, very stupid in the ways of the world – probably the reason they’d all been made slaves in the first place.
He raised his Snuzi pistol. “You Muds couldn’t fight to save your own lives,” he snorted, and pulled the trigger –
And even as the bullet roared its way out the barrel, the Mudokon was halfway out of a dodge roll similar to the one Vastor had performed on Gurchin, letting the bullet plow into the sand. Vastor whirled around, his finger madly pulling back on the trigger, but when the Mudokon’s head butted him in the stomach, his arm spasmed and the bullet rocketed off into the sky.
Temporarily blinded by the stars dancing before his eyes, Vastor swung out one arm and caught the Mudokon a blow across the side. Following up with a kick that connected with nothing but bought him some space, Vastor tried to get his vision back by blinking rapidly. He brought his gun back around toward where he imagined the skinny creep would be and pulled the trigger –
Only to receive a powerful blow to the back of the neck from what felt like a pair of clenched fists. Groaning, Vastor toppled forward to the ground. Red pain exploded up his back.
He heard the Mudokon walk up to stand over him. “Not so tough now, eh?” the creep said.
Vastor scrabbled weakly in the dirt for his gun; the blow to the back of his neck must have stunned his nerves more than he’d expected. “Just let me get my hands on you –”
He felt something strike his back, something that felt a lot like a Mudokon foot. “Do you think I’d let you kill me?” his enemy laughed, and Vastor would have clenched his fists if he’d had control over them. “I’m Abe, Slig, and I don’t give up so easily.”
Vastor shivered. “Abe…” He’d heard the name. Who hadn’t? Abe was the greatest terrorist ever to walk Mudos, and survive…“Why are you here?”
Abe – if that’s who he really was – laughed again. “You’re beaten, Slig, and I don’t feel like telling you anything right now, except…”
Vastor felt another blow to the back of his neck, and suddenly he couldn’t move at all. Abe leaned in close, whispering in his ear:
“All I’m going to tell you right now is that you’re my prisoner.”
Then the blackness closed in…
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