Bounty Hunter

Chapter 34

Bobo had picked up a pitchfork, which made Joe slightly jealous. As far as old garden tools went, Bobo had a far better weapon.

The countdown was at thirty seconds.

Joe walked to stand in the center of the cage so that if his opponent emerged from any of the four sides, there would be some space between them. Fear gave Joe adrenaline, which he needed, but his muscles were still sore and weak after getting stunned.

Exoshields weren't light, so Joe was stronger and faster than many, his body accustomed to carrying the extra weight. Still, he needed that strength and his newfound mobility to make up for the lack of armor. Adjusting to the difference was going to be tough at first.

His body wanted to fight and move, and he had to force himself to stay calm. He had a feeling he'd need every ounce of energy in a fight for his life. That was assuming they'd let him win, even if he did beat the mutant. For all he knew, they'd gun him down if he survived.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

He refused to think like that. Negative thoughts did nothing to win a fight. He needed to focus on his enemy: his strengths, weaknesses, the way he moved, and what was going on inside that head.

A bell sounded. Joe gave a start. He did a three-sixty, searching for Wendigo, and stopped when he caught the movement of a door sliding upward. Out came...holy cow, the mutant had to bend to make it through the eight-foot high doorway. After he stepped through, he straightened to full height.

Bobo cursed, and Joe agreed. The crowd cheered and began to chant "Wendigo" over and over.

Wendigo, the mutant with polar bear DNA, was a monstrosity. They say no man is an island, but this mutant was sure as hell a mountain. He stood naked, though clothes aren't necessary when you're covered in white fur. His hands were huge paw-like things with webbed fingers. Instead of fingernails, he had long claws that looked like they'd been dipped in silver.

He was obese, or at least he looked fat, but Joe suspected that those layers were as much muscle as they were thick, protective hide. He could've almost been mistaken for a real polar bear standing on its hind legs—until you saw his face.That was an unfortunate mess of DNA experimentation: The nose was all polar bear on a flat face, with a humanoid mouth full of sharp teeth. His eyes were humanoid, but they bore no humanity as he strode, teeth bared, toward Joe.

Wendigo's first steps were like those of a toddler with outstretched arms, walking toward his mother. Then he picked up speed, and what had seemed like clumsy steps became an earth-pounding gallop that thundered like a stampede.

But it was only one guy, not a herd.

Joe gripped the hoe and glanced at Bobo. "Get ready."

Wendigo ran straight at Joe, since Bobo had moved off to the side. As the mutant closed the distance, Joe realized just how massive he was. He must've weighed over eight hundred pounds.

The mutant barreled toward Joe, a flurry of white fur and spittle like a bloodhound after a scent. Joe stood on the balls of his feet with knees bent, ready. Even at his current speed, Wendigo wasn't fast, but if he tackled Joe, it'd be game over. Slow: good; heavy: bad. Worse, those claws looked like they could slice through skin, muscle, and bone like cheese.

As Joe suspected, the Wendigo arced one of his arms back to swing when he was nearly in range. A right-hander. The swipe came just as Joe rolled to the right. As he came to his feet, Joe used his momentum to swing the hoe around. The metal blade struck the mutant's left shoulder.