John Carter Read Online Free Page B

and shot back up into the air, narrowly missing a rock formation as he crashed back down again.
    Enraged, Carter picked up a stone and hurled it with all his might. It took off like a missile, flying away as far as he could see. Carter’s eyes went wide. He crouched down and threw himself into the air, just like the stone. Twisted in mid-air and managed to land safely, on his feet.
    Four or five jumps later, he was almost having fun.
    He executed a complex arc through the air, barely avoiding a ring of jagged rocks. Then he noticed, just ahead, a strange octagonal structure like a corral with featureless, opaque sides and a faceted glass top. Carter crept up to it, hoisted himself up to peer in through the top.
    And gasped.
    Large eggs filled the floor of the enclosure, quivering like Mexican jumping beans. As Carter watched, spellbound with horror, a wiry green arm punched its way out of a cracked egg. Another crack, and another arm. Then a pair of green legs.
    One of the eggs shattered open, and a thin, monstrous baby blinked and glared up at Carter. Its skin was green all over. Two small, stubby tusks protruded from its smooth, newborn cheeks.
    Carter couldn’t look away. It’s an incubator , he realized.
    Another egg hatched, and then a third. Soon the incubator was filled with a writhing stew of angry green babies. One of them started to wail and the others joined in, forming a horrible blare of noise. Carter winced.
    Then came an answering howl from behind Carter, followed by a roar of massive hooves. A herd of gigantic beasts thundered into view, kicking up a red dust cloud. Enormous creatures, each one the size of a small stable house, with gray tusks, four legs on each side, and odd, flat tails. Carter had never seen anything like them.
    But when he spotted the beasts’ riders, Carter felt a new kind of fear.
    They were vaguely human-shaped but green in color, with elongated, spiderlike bodies. They stood ten feet tall at least, with four arms instead of the normal two. They wore ceremonial warrior garb and carried an impressive array of spears, guns, and unfamiliar weapons. Like their mounts—and like the babies Carter had just seen hatched—each rider sported two sharp, curved tusks curling up from the lower half of his face.
    What had Powell said back in the cave?
    This place for sure ain’t Apache.
    The lead rider yelled something, aimed a sharp lance at Carter, and charged. Not even thinking, Carter leaped straight upward and sailed far over the rider’s head. The beast slammed into a boulder, tossing its rider free. The green man crashed down hard, then lay sprawled in the dirt.
    Carter landed easily, just as the first shot rang out.
    The riders charged, firing their long rifles. Carter dove and rolled behind a pile of boulders. Bullets chewed into the stones, eating away at his cover. Old war instincts took over, and he started a zigzag, hop-scotching series of short leaps from rock to rock, edging toward higher ground.
    He glanced back just in time to see the leader—now recovered from his fall—slap away the rifle barrel of a warrior with a broken tusk.
    â€œKatom! Tet mu yat Jeddak hok ta!”
    As Carter watched warily from behind a boulder, the lead warrior ordered his men back with a severe, imperious hand motion. The broken-tusked warrior glared briefly, then reluctantly joined the others in forming a perimeter around Carter’s position.
    Then the leader moved in toward Carter. “Kaor!” he called. “Jah mu tet!”
    Carter tensed as the green warrior approached him—slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving Carter’s. The leader laid down his lance, unstrapped his sidearm, and unsheathed each blade in turn, stacking the weapons in a neat pile on the ground. When he spoke again, his tone was calm, almost soothing.
    â€œJah mu tet. Satav…satav.”
    Carter stepped out and raised his hand, palms forward. “All right, you