In that instant he saw another alien move. He fired.
The shot went home. There were more screams.
Good God, he said, almost aloud, shocked. He did not fire again, the fear of the things was revolting. He wanted to get out.
He started to move, but they located him. The first bomb hit on the other side of the tree, blew with a white blinding flash, a thin, screaming, ripping explosion.
The tree saved him. He fell flat, tried to crawl away. Two more bombs let go on the other side of the tree, spattered among the bushes and leaves, cut the tree in half. The tree fell in the direction of another bomb, the top of it was blown away. In frantic desperation, the Faktors were giving it everything they had.
There was a tense moment of silence. Web started to rise. He had to get away. He fired again and again into the woods around him, rose and started to run, hoping that the shooting would keep the aliens flat, that some of them at least had died of fear and that he could outrun them. He made it as far as another fallen log before the next bomb let go, giving him a great crunching shove in his back. He fell face down over the log.
Oh hell, he said painfully, oh hell oh hell oh hell. A bomb fell near him, and another, and he turned to rise and fire back just once more, swearing, his flesh rising to greet the one last killing explosion, and damn it all, he was going to die.
A huge fist hit him squarely between the eyes. He fell over backwards.
And there was dark, blessed silence.