Death Walks on Mars
by Alan J. Ramm
The SWOOOOSH could hardly be picked up. There was a long shadow; then a scream from Fatso. The Sand Vulture's tail came out of his belly red. Then the Vulture was away; circling high and out of range.
Blindly Rick pulled his gun and fired. Fast as his trigger finger was, the poison was faster. By the third shot Fatso began to scream. His voice rose up the scale of torture; bursting occasionally in a paean of agony. And as he screamed, he lay on the ground writhing. Before their eyes, his stomach began to bulge and turn purple from the poison. His eyes rolled up into his head. And the moans began to dribble from his lips like the litany of an insane chorus.
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