Peter David - After Earth

He called in his find and asked for help so that he could continue his search. Once he closed the signal, he said, “Get out of here. There’s an Ursa by the animals, and I don’t want it finding you.”

“What about you?”

“This is my job. You go get that arm examined,” he said.

She wiped away tears with her good hand, hugged him a second time, and turned to make her way outside.

Within the next fifteen minutes, he found more dead bodies, crushed from machinery that had toppled on them, and the corpse of another Ranger. His entire body had long bloody rows carved into it by the Ursa’s talons.

With every step, his mind remained fixed on the Ursa’s noisy position. He kept his radio on low so that he could hear reports from elsewhere around Nova Prime City. It sounded like many Ursa had come simultaneously and were wreaking havoc everywhere, which might mean Ranger reinforcements would be delayed, especially if they didn’t know the Rangers at the market were among the dead.

He turned his back to the Ursa’s position and called in to the corps what he had discovered, insisting the information be relayed to the Rangers. They had to know he and Marquez were the only trained form of defense in this crowded part of the city. Of course, it didn’t feel crowded now as people huddled in shelters or hid within their homes.

As he turned back toward the Ursa, he saw Miranda standing in place. She was clearly in shock and hadn’t gone far. This was a complication he did not need.

“Go!” he said, waving his arms in the direction of the entrance.

“I’m scared,” she said, holding her injured arm.

“All the more reason to get out of here,” he said.

She hesitated.

With a growl all his own, Anderson grabbed the girl, picked her up, and began moving her out of the Ursa’s way. He didn’t have time to play games with her and couldn’t turn his back on the beast for too long. Sure enough, it took being moved just a few feet to shock her back to reality. Her eyes went wide; she let out a gurgling yelp and began running.

The Ursa roared, and Kincaid heard a thick wet sound as something hit the ground. Feeding time was over, the hunt was on, and they were the targets.

Then he heard the snarl, and it was closer.

Miranda was out of sight and presumably off to safety. That freed him to focus entirely on keeping the Ursa from hunting other humans. He looked left and right and noticed the roof. There were long sheets of pliable metal that helped shade the stalls. Fastened in place, they could provide support.

Powerful legs propelled him upward. He grasped an edge and pulled himself up. He then threw himself belly down on the roof, cutting his cheek in the process, and withdrew his pulser, taking aim. He fired a series of blasts that cracked in the air like fireworks, the bolts of energy filling the air between him and the charging Ursa.

Sure enough, it slowed the beast down as it emitted a noisy sniffing sound while its talons scraped the hard ground. Once it appeared to lock onto Kincaid’s scent, the creature sped up again. Anderson sighed at his plight, aimed, and fired again. Not that he could kill the creature with the pistol, or with both pistols if it came to that. He wasn’t even sure if the cutlass would be enough, but he needed to keep the Ursa occupied so that the Rangers had a chance to arrive.

His wrist gauntlet contained a small screen that usually flashed a variety of information; he orally commanded it to display a schematic of the market. He needed a plan other than blindly shooting at the Ursa until it leaped up and gored him. Bright red lines appeared on the black screen, and his eyes traced one pathway and then another. Below him, the Ursa snarled and roared, nearing his position and ready to leap up and meet him on the roof.

He saw a course of action and scrambled to the next slot in the roof to his right, leaning down and firing as he moved. The beast roared and followed, gathering enough momentum to leap off the ground and slash at him.

Kincaid kept moving in a diagonal path, leading the creature back toward the animal pens. It climbed neatly over the crushed booths, ignoring everything in its path, intent on reaching the annoying pulser and its owner. He hurried along until he reached the desired slot and then fired again.

The beast sped up, charging with abandon. As Kincaid ran, he fired a pattern of blasts not at the Ursa but at the roof in front of it. Without pausing, it leaped toward the roof, but it had the misfortune to land exactly where Kincaid’s pulser had done its work. The weakened floor buckled under the creature’s great weight, and suddenly it fell into a mound of rotting food and decomposing animal dung.

The beast expressed its displeasure with its loudest roar yet, and Kincaid covered his ears. Unfortunately, the pit was not deep, and once it collected its wits, the Ursa would climb back up. But at least it was preoccupied for a little while, giving Kincaid time to come up with a new plan.

“Kincaid here. Where are the Rangers?”

“Moser here,” came a voice he didn’t know. “They’re all over the city. Where are the ones dispatched to the market?”

“All dead. Where the hell are the reinforcements?”

“Coming.”

“Not fast enough. Please pass that along.”

“You okay?”

“For now.”

His fingers stroked the cutlass before pressing and squeezing random sections; sure enough, the device sprang to life as the strands of programmed metal altered at one end, curving and refashioning itself into a hook shape.

“Get me those reinforcements.”

“Roger that.”

The Ursa was not idle during the conversation. It regrouped and used its powerful legs to scramble out of the muck and back onto the ground, roaring with every step. Of course, now Kincaid could not only hear the beast but smell it, too; his nose wrinkled in revulsion.

The moment it settled on the ground, the Ursa tensed and leaped up, its short forearms grabbing the thin metal of the roof, its talons ripping into it. With an effort it made its way onto the roof, where Kincaid was already on his feet.

Now they were on the same level playing field, and the advantage had shifted from the corpsman to the foul-smelling creature. He started swinging the cutlass at the Ursa, connecting with legs, joints, clawed hands. But the Ursa continued plodding toward him. Realizing he wasn’t harming it at all, Kincaid turned and ran.

The Ursa charged.

Kincaid counted on the beast being too heavy for the wafer-thin metal roof. Sure enough, the roof creaked and groaned, adding to the Ursa’s bellowing tone. The beast had gone maybe another six feet before the roof began to buckle. Another few feet and the roof became wobbly. As the Ursa gained on Kincaid, the metal started coming free from its moorings.

What Kincaid did not count on was plunging to the ground with the Ursa.

Both fell with a loud crash, Kincaid’s right shoulder absorbing the impact. It took all his willpower not to cry out in pain as he landed atop the ruins of a shoe peddler’s stand. He scrambled to regain his footing, taking a moment to come up with a strategy.

The Ursa, despite its ungainly shape, had a good sense of balance and was upright and snarling, once more locked onto Kincaid’s position.

A plan, however sketchy, was still a plan, and Kincaid ran to his right, down a relatively unscathed corridor of the market. His shoulder ached as he pumped his arms; he had to push past it. Within several strides he could hear the great creature coming after him, screaming at the top of its lungs. It wanted him badly.

He darted down side aisles, jumping over boxes and leaping into a forward roll to avoid a pillar barring his path. All along, the creature barreled forward, tearing through one thing after another, unrelenting in its pursuit.