Dead Worlds (Necrospace Book 2) by Sean-Michael Argo Page B

never returned to Samuel.
     Samuel's rifle scope was burdensome in such close quarters fighting, and he flipped it down so that he could rely on the iron sights. The marine toggled his rifle over to a single shot setting and began swiftly pelting multiple hostiles with rounds. He was firing mostly on instinct, allowing his training to take over and moving from target to target as quickly as he could. His accuracy was reduced and in just a few seconds he emptied the magazine.
    He crouched back into cover, positive that he'd seen at least one or more of his targets jerk and react from hits. He was hoping that by making a big show he could draw fire away from the cor-sec troopers, and he prayed that they could take the initiative to seize the opportunity to counter-attack. At the least, he hoped they would manage to break out of their position and push through one of the weaker points in the enemy cordon and get into the relative safety of the narrow alleys and gangplank streets, well away from the kill zone that the small plaza had become.
    A new Reeker must have joined the fight, because hard rounds suddenly began to punch through the metal and wood walls of the shack. A few of the rounds struck Samuel in the thigh and shoulder as he reloaded, though they only served to knock him off his feet as his armor held. The slugs had been slowed by penetrating the wall, but the marine knew that it was only a matter of time before a lucky shot hit him just right and ended the fight for him.
    Samuel risked taking a quick peek around the now nearly obliterated wall and saw a tall Reeker on a rooftop across the plaza reloading what appeared to be a homemade, heavy machine gun. The marine looked across the way at Spencer and saw that he had removed his helmet and his face was covered in blood. Samuel could see that despite the drugs, the marine was still coughing up a lot of the precious red and had removed his helmet to keep from swallowing it again accidently.
     "Gunner on the roof, can you shoot?" asked Samuel, waving to get Spencer's attention. The marine looked back at Samuel with glassy eyes and managed a weak nod. "Then you bracket him and I'll drill him when he makes a run for it."
     Spencer groaned in pain as he used his legs to push himself up against the far wall enough that he could shove his helmet beneath his butt and as it as a seat. The improvised stool gave him just enough elevation that he was able to raise his rifle with his right hand and rest the barrel against the open window space. The marine spotted the gunner and began firing in his general direction.
    Samuel did not expect Spencer to actually hit the gunner. He was hoping that the bracketing fire would push the Reeker from his position and give Samuel a clean shot. As it was, the gunner was mostly safe behind the cover of a heavy metal plate that was stopping much of Spencer's fire. After a few seconds of sustained fire from Spencer, however, the gunner was either hit by one of the rounds that managed to penetrate the metal or finally lost his nerve. Either way, he rose from his position.
    Samuel had guessed, wrongly, that the gunner was right handed and would rise on the left. Apparently, the gunner was left handed and he rose on the right with his weapon at ready.
    The machine gun barked as it sent a salvo of projectiles ripping through the shack. One destroyed Spencer's gun, the rest hammering his armor and sending the already wounded marine sprawling across the floor from the multiple impacts.
    It took everything Samuel had not to drop his rifle and attempt to move Spencer away from the fighting, but he knew that the only way out of this fight was to push through. The marine looked down his v-shaped iron sights and found the gunner as he toggled over to a three-round burst. He squeezed the trigger twice. The gunner jerked backwards as the first burst tore through his upper torso and then awkwardly toppled off of the roof and into the alley as at least one