Colt chewed on the inside of his cheek as he took aim at the first hologram. The attention to detail was incredible, from the light glinting off the Thule’s eyes to the way its scaled chest heaved with every breath. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn that it was real.
“You got this,” Oz said. He was back on the ground, standing next to Danielle. “Remember, aim . . . exhale . . . and then pull the trigger. It’s as easy as that.”
The first target was about fifty feet away, and Colt was closing fast. He exhaled. Ten meters. Colt could almost smell the alien’s rancid breath as he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
Somehow the beam of light hit the creature’s shoulder. It wasn’t a kill shot, but the alien roared as it grabbed the imaginary wound. Colt couldn’t help but smile as the image flickered before it disappeared. It was the first time he’d ever hit the initial target.
There was no time to celebrate. The second target beat its chest with two hands while the other four flexed sharp claws, waiting to tear him apart. Colt veered toward the hologram as an angry wind buffeted against him, but he hardly noticed. Gritting his teeth, he raised the Tesla Repulsor and steadied his wrist, just as Oz had done. The creature threw its head back, and Colt aimed for its throat. He took a slow breath, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.
And missed. The alien didn’t flicker, flash, or disappear.
Colt raised his arms to cover his face, and his jacket took the brunt of the punishment. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes all he could see was the parched ground. It was ten meters away, and it was closing fast.
He raised his head and arched his back, extending his arms like wings as he attempted to rise. Something hissed behind his ear. Had the tank been punctured? Maybe one of the hoses was dislodged. Colt thought that he could smell fuel, but maybe it was the exhaust.
The ground was closer now. He could reach out and touch it if he had half a mind, but he strained his neck and threw his shoulders back, hoping that would be enough. The desert grime was thick on his tongue, gritty and raw. Strange shapes loomed ahead. It was a wall of cactus, twisted and bent.
His left hand scraped the ground, bouncing as it skimmed the surface like a stone skipping across a pond. His fist hit a rock and the Tesla Repulsor fell from his hand. The gun clanked, breaking into countless pieces as it bounced away. He turned his head for the briefest moment to see where it landed, but the movement drove his shoulder into the ground.
“Pull up!” Oz shouted through the comlink.
Pain shot through Colt’s shoulder and up into his neck. Jaw clenched and eyes filled with tears, he rolled to his right, trying to correct his haphazard path. The tank sputtered, spitting out a trail of smoke as it backfired.
“Not now,” Colt said, straining through gritted teeth as he fought to keep from crashing. It felt like the tendons in his neck were going to snap, but his body rose even as the fuel tank lost pressure.
The jet pack shook, threatening to break free from the straps that held it in place, and Colt felt the tremors through his body. His teeth chattered and his vision blurred as he pulled away from the desert floor and up into the early morning haze.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Danielle asked.
Colt couldn’t answer. His heart pounded as he tilted to the right, his shoulder dipping as he entered into a barrel roll. Like a corkscrew, he shot straight up, avoiding the cactus as a great plume of smoke trailed in his wake. It felt like he was coming up for air after holding his breath under water for too long. Relief washed over him, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment to drink it in. The world was quiet. Calm. Far below, a tumbleweed rolled across the desert, bouncing in the wind before it caught on a shrub.
The jet pack sputtered, a reminder that he needed to land before his fuel supply ran out. He didn’t know the odds of surviving a thousand-foot fall, but he figured they weren’t in his favor. Just then he heard a strange buzzing sound. It was faint at first, like the hum of an oscillating fan, but it was growing louder.
“Do you hear that?” he asked, tilting his head like a dog listening to a distant noise.
“Hear what?” Oz asked.
“I’m not sure.” Colt tapped on the tiny speaker lodged in his ear, wondering if it was feedback. “It’s like a hum, or—”
A massive silhouette rose from the mountains, wings beating and teeth gnashing as it flew toward him.