Guns of Mars 17
A Martian action-adventure by The Legend Chuck Dixon
CHAPTER 5.2
The men with the prods stood ready as the bounty man undid the chains that held Kal to the post. With a shove, Kal hobbled toward the thoats. One of the livery men knelt to free his right leg from the hobble. Not to waste an opportunity, the thark launched a vicious kick the instant his leg was unbound. It struck the kneeling man in the chest, flinging him away to roll in the dust. The second man thrust his prod forward and Kal swung up a long leg to knock it aside. He rushed low, taking the man full in the face with a shoulder. He was rewarded with a wet crunching sound as the man’s nose was smeared flat under the blow.
The charge left Kal unbalanced and he lost his footing to stumble and crash down on his belly. He was shifting to turn onto his hip in order to right himself when he felt a sudden weight drop onto his shoulders. The weight crushed him to the ground where he lay helpless and wriggling, his arms still bound useless against his back.
Kal craned his neck to see what massive bulk was pinning him to the ground. It was the bronze man, crouching now to press the barrel of one of his pistols into the flesh just below Kal’s right eye with a click of cold steel. The thark ceased his thrashing to fix his gaze upon the long steel barrel.
“He’s all yours,” the man said and hopped off.
Before Kal could regain his feet he was assailed with the shock of prods. One was driven hard into the back of his neck. The second into the base of his spine. He gritted his teeth against the blaze of agony that engulfed his convulsing muscles. The men were laughing as they shocked him again and again.
“All right, boys.” The bounty man’s voice echoing through the haze of pain. “He’s had enough of that.”
They allowed Kal to rise now on shaky legs. He took some satisfaction from the ruined face of one of the livery men. The man’s nose looked like a squashed fruit at the center of his features, the blood sheeting his mouth and chin and staining his chest.
With help of the livery men and their prods, Kal was urged to mount the thoat that squatted in the dust for him. The braided thong that hobbled his legs had been removed from both ankles to allow him to fork the saddle. It was replaced with a longer length of braided cable that was slung under the mount’s belly and secured to either ankle.
“Cinch it tight,” the bounty man said.
The livery men pulled together to reduce all slack in the braid. Kal’s legs were drawn hard against the beast’s flanks. One of the livery men held out the staff of his prod to the bounty man.
“One of these might be useful on your journey,” the man said.
“I got all the prod I need right here,” the bounty man replied, a hand patting the butt of one of his holstered pistols.
Thus secured, Kal’s thoat and the pack beast were led away on a lead line tied to the horn of the bronze man’s saddle. Children chased after them as they departed. They pitched a few final stones at the thark as a farewell. Refusing to give the urchins the satisfaction of a reaction, Kal sat upright with eyes to the horizon. His back still burned with the stings from the prods.
Special Note: GUNS OF MARS is now available in a hardcover edition. It is available at Amazon and at NDM Express.
