The trek wasn't easy, especially since the Texan kept talking. Mr. Edgar Bronson, as I learned his name was, was getting bloody annoying. I contemplated pushing him back down the slope.
A noise startled George and he begged silence. For once the loud Texan shut his mouth. We hid behind a rock outcropping as five Martians wearing the armour of the Guardians patrolled.
I could see the glimmer of their sharp blades in the dim Martian evening. The Texan pulled out his revolver and fired into the head of one of the Guardians. The other Guardians turned swiftly and pulled their swords. The Martian weapons were humming.
One swung his weapon at me and cleaved the rock in twain. "You cheeky bastard!"
I brought out my revolver and fired into the chest of the Martian. The yellow Martian blood erupted and had an odd metallic smell not like the iron smell of Earth blood. One of the bearers screamed and dropped his goods and begged for mercy in the holy language.
The Guardian made an elegant move and took his head. The Texan turned and fired at the Guardian and killed him. One of the other Guardians made his move and barely missed the Texan's hand. The knife passed through his revolver like it was fine English butter.
"Sumbitch!" Was the cry of the Texan at the destruction of his gun. I dropped to my knees and grabbed one of the swords. The last Guardian screamed at the blasphemy of my touch of a sacred weapon.
I thrusted up into his chest, penetrating his six chambered heart. Blood gouted from his mouth.
I soon realised that only I, the Texan, and George remained. All of the bearers fled and left our goods.
To be continued...
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