283

Stunned and deafened by the unexpected explosion, you drag yourself upright into a sitting position in time to see, through the acrid smoke, a figure approaching the open doorway. Blindly you feel for your gun but it is nowhere to hand. Then the high-pitched sound of a small engine pierces the incessant ringing in your ears, at once setting your nerves on edge.

You reach for a close combat weapon as the figure steps into the lodge, and your blood runs cold when the maniacal features of Mad Dog Michigan swim into focus before your eyes. His crash into the Pantano Wash has cost him dearly. His face is a criss-cross of livid scars, many of them swollen around the stitches that are keeping the torn flesh together. He has lost his left hand, and one eye is hidden behind a patch of black cotton. It serves a practical purpose, hiding a now-empty socket, yet it also exaggerates the expression of hate and vengeance that fixes the clan leader’s mouth.

‘Revenge is mine at last—Phoenix!’ he spits, and raises the motorized chainsaw that he grasps in his right hand. The motor screams as he slashes wildly at the air, and then he brings the buzzing, toothed blade down upon a table top and its surface explodes into splinters and dust. He laughs a madman’s laugh as he steps slowly nearer to where you sit. With a final howl of glee, he raises the saw and screams, ‘Now you die!’

If you wish to throw your close combat weapon at Mad Dog Michigan in an attempt to ward off his attack, turn to 168.

If you do not wish to throw your weapon, turn to 83.