Perception Fault Read Online Free

of will that couldn’t be believed. He’d seen Ryan survive things that would have reduced a lesser man to shattered pulp. So no, Jak didn’t believe he could take the one-eyed man.
    But when it came to human vermin like this, there was no contest.
    He had taken off after the glimpse of movement before Krysty could stop him, primarily because he didn’t want her help. Oh, she could be impressive in a fight as well, but with those damn boots on, she’d signal their approach like a war wag at full throttle. No, this sort of chilling was best done quick and quiet, and no one was better at both than Jak.
    The man he was trailing ducked around another shattered building, disappearing from sight for a few moments. Jak trotted to the corner of the wall, every sense alert, his strange, ruby-red eyes seeing his surroundings like it was almost noon. He peeked around the corner, just a fast glance, to make sure the bastard wasn’t setting up to coldcock him.
    Nothing moved in the gloom. Jak settled himself and listened to the night, his heightened senses straining for the slightest noise.
    There. It was the softest of sounds, maybe cloth brushing against cloth, but it was enough. And just in time, too, as the flat cracks of a blaster from behind him shattered the silence. Jak didn’t look back, knowing wiry J.B. was doing his part.
    And so was he.
    Keeping his .357 at his side, the albino teen tiptoed toward his prey as silent as stalking death. The shots died away, and there was only Jak and his soon-to-be victims.
    Edging to the next corner of the former building, he listened again and heard more this time—whispers and the soft clicks of blasters being readied. Jak took a deep breath in through his nose, let it pass out through his mouth. He hauled back on the hammer of his blasterwith the thumb of his hand, brought the weapon around to grasp it in both his hands and rounded the corner, ready to blast them into hell—
    As expected, when they looked up and saw his face, there was a moment of shock at his stark-white hair, pale skin and burning red eyes. He’d surprised a pair of the intruders, both dressed in green, long-sleeved shirts. The one on the left was older, taller, with salt-and-pepper hair and a grizzled look, as if he had seen his share of hard living. A lot of people looked like that in the Deathlands, however. This guy was simply another one who’d chosen the way of the coldheart instead of some other way to live.
    His partner was younger, maybe only a few years older than Jak, with a dirty yet unlined face. His movements were unsure as he fumbled with his longblaster, a hunting model with the stock sawed off and black electrical tape wrapped around the foregrip. He looked up at Jak, his mouth hanging open.
    The way was as clear as glass—put a bullet into the old man, then follow through on the younger while he was still gaping at the albino apparition that had just appeared. Jak started to squeeze the trigger of his Colt Python when his attention was caught by something else shambling out of the darkness behind the two men.
    As soon as he saw it, Jak moved his blaster a fraction to point between the two. Pulling the trigger, he had just enough time to shout, “Stickie!” before the weapon’s roar drowned out all other noises. The snap-aimed shot only grazed the mutie’s arm as it headed for the taller man.
    The two men started at the bullet passing between them, then whirled. Each reacted differently upon seeing the naked, pasty, flabby mutie with its narrow,bulging eyes, vestigial nose, lipless mouth and fleshy hands, each finger tipped with a sucker that could literally tear a man’s face off.
    The older man pointed his sawed off, double-barreled shotgun at the new threat, following the unwritten law of the land that stickies were to be chilled on sight. The blaster boomed, a cloud of pellets ripping into the mutie’s side, but not stopping its advance for an instant.
    The second man’s reflexes