Read Online Ashlyn Chronicles 1: 2287 A.D. by Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke
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on top of him. It reared back on its hind legs, and as if it were already declaring victory, let out a long, roaring, deafening shriek. Weakened portions of the crystalline cavern fell, unable to withstand the percussive noise.
Lunging, the spider grasped him between its fangs, tossing him into the air. It just as quickly caught him, almost as though it were playing with him. Even with the armor’s dampening field, the pressure the spider exerted registered over 630 kilos per square inch. Though he could barely breathe, he attacked the rock-hard fangs, throwing an endless flurry of heavy servo-assisted punches. Slowly the fangs showed signs of cracking, fracturing.
Martinez, helpless to assist Cole without endangering him further, stood in the doorway, incinerating all periphery spiders until his tank sputtered and the flame died.
Beginning to feel the damage of Cole’s blows, the spider spewed venom all over Cole, hoping to immobilize him.
“I’m not dead yet, you bitch!” he screamed.
“Gena, fire turrets!” Instantly, a pair of small shoulder turrets unfurled and unloaded sixty-four hundred rounds of armor-piercing, explosive-tipped micro-needles. The spider shrieked as the needles tore through its internal organs, blowing large exit holes out its backside.
The west end of the cavern blew outwards as hundreds of unobstructed micro-needles exited the shredding spider and struck the webbing beyond, opening a large hole.
The spiders that had been advancing on the web, along with thousands of shattered crystalline shards, were sucked up and swept away by the monstrous tornado that bore down on them. The display of raw energy within the tornado dwarfed the largest Kansas twister.
Thrashing in the throes of death, the spider dropped Cole from its grasp. It tottered above him, staggered, and then collapsed to the ground. With a few lingering twitches it released a last exhale of breath.
Throngs of spiders watching the battle stilled, seemingly shocked by what they had witnessed. As the death of their mother and queen settled in, an air of vengeance seemed to permeate the surroundings.
Behind Cole, the cavern’s already weakened structure disintegrated as chunks were ripped away by the charcoal-brown tornado. The earsplitting noise overwhelmed them, but even as the world the spiders had built was disappearing around them, their attentions remained solely focused on Cole. He lay on the ground before them, unable to escape. As one, they moved with lightning speed, swarming over him.
With a final glance at Stratton, Cole’s blood red eyes and an affirmative nod told him what he had to do.
Cole screamed—not the scream of a man in pain, but the gutsy scream of a man that refused to die easily.
Pulling Martinez inside, Stratton grabbed the door and slammed it shut, pinching the armored leg of a spider that had almost managed to make it inside. The leg shook and then went limp. The spider had bitten it off, freeing itself.
In direct contrast to the clamor of noises outside, with the door’s closure everything went eerily silent, leaving them with only the sound of their own breathing.
“Cole’s still out there,” shouted Martinez as he reached for the handle of the door.
Stratton shoved Martinez hard into the wall. “No, he’s not! He’s dead!” Their eyes locked, the faceplates of their helmets pressed together. “He was bitten! He has the rage . He’s not human anymore!” The image branded into Stratton’s mind was terrifying. He had not seen Cole get bitten, and it had taken him a moment to process the information. Cole was a close friend and the look in his eyes conveyed a flood of emotions. In a single glance, Cole had asked for compassion, for understanding, and yet, it was one of compulsion, of hunger—a look of rage.
The whites of Cole’s eyes were a solid mass of red corpuscles, his face a roadmap of veins that pulsed on the surface of his skin. His bared teeth were drenched in the blood
Lunging, the spider grasped him between its fangs, tossing him into the air. It just as quickly caught him, almost as though it were playing with him. Even with the armor’s dampening field, the pressure the spider exerted registered over 630 kilos per square inch. Though he could barely breathe, he attacked the rock-hard fangs, throwing an endless flurry of heavy servo-assisted punches. Slowly the fangs showed signs of cracking, fracturing.
Martinez, helpless to assist Cole without endangering him further, stood in the doorway, incinerating all periphery spiders until his tank sputtered and the flame died.
Beginning to feel the damage of Cole’s blows, the spider spewed venom all over Cole, hoping to immobilize him.
“I’m not dead yet, you bitch!” he screamed.
“Gena, fire turrets!” Instantly, a pair of small shoulder turrets unfurled and unloaded sixty-four hundred rounds of armor-piercing, explosive-tipped micro-needles. The spider shrieked as the needles tore through its internal organs, blowing large exit holes out its backside.
The west end of the cavern blew outwards as hundreds of unobstructed micro-needles exited the shredding spider and struck the webbing beyond, opening a large hole.
The spiders that had been advancing on the web, along with thousands of shattered crystalline shards, were sucked up and swept away by the monstrous tornado that bore down on them. The display of raw energy within the tornado dwarfed the largest Kansas twister.
Thrashing in the throes of death, the spider dropped Cole from its grasp. It tottered above him, staggered, and then collapsed to the ground. With a few lingering twitches it released a last exhale of breath.
Throngs of spiders watching the battle stilled, seemingly shocked by what they had witnessed. As the death of their mother and queen settled in, an air of vengeance seemed to permeate the surroundings.
Behind Cole, the cavern’s already weakened structure disintegrated as chunks were ripped away by the charcoal-brown tornado. The earsplitting noise overwhelmed them, but even as the world the spiders had built was disappearing around them, their attentions remained solely focused on Cole. He lay on the ground before them, unable to escape. As one, they moved with lightning speed, swarming over him.
With a final glance at Stratton, Cole’s blood red eyes and an affirmative nod told him what he had to do.
Cole screamed—not the scream of a man in pain, but the gutsy scream of a man that refused to die easily.
Pulling Martinez inside, Stratton grabbed the door and slammed it shut, pinching the armored leg of a spider that had almost managed to make it inside. The leg shook and then went limp. The spider had bitten it off, freeing itself.
In direct contrast to the clamor of noises outside, with the door’s closure everything went eerily silent, leaving them with only the sound of their own breathing.
“Cole’s still out there,” shouted Martinez as he reached for the handle of the door.
Stratton shoved Martinez hard into the wall. “No, he’s not! He’s dead!” Their eyes locked, the faceplates of their helmets pressed together. “He was bitten! He has the rage . He’s not human anymore!” The image branded into Stratton’s mind was terrifying. He had not seen Cole get bitten, and it had taken him a moment to process the information. Cole was a close friend and the look in his eyes conveyed a flood of emotions. In a single glance, Cole had asked for compassion, for understanding, and yet, it was one of compulsion, of hunger—a look of rage.
The whites of Cole’s eyes were a solid mass of red corpuscles, his face a roadmap of veins that pulsed on the surface of his skin. His bared teeth were drenched in the blood
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