"You Earthians will never learn," he hissed. His clawed fingers were writhing nervously. "But one more example will not hurt. You know the penalty."
Bob's jaws were clamped tightly. His whole body was trembling with pent rage and hate. He stood there looking steadily into the beast's eyes, waiting.
"One less youth in the shipment to the other side will make little difference," Zuldi smirked. "The blood we have taken in the past is nearly enough for our needs. The transfusions have rendered my people almost immune from the ravages of heat and light rays."
His red eyes were glowing behind their protective glasses. His heavy lips were twisting gloatingly. "Soon we shall be able to leave the Land of Darkness. Soon we shall conquer new lands."
His eyes narrowed and he took a sudden step forward, clawed hands extended. "And we shall have no further use for Earthians!"
"Damn you!" Bob's set face was livid with emotion. "Damn you!" he shouted again. "You'll never live to kill another Earthian!"
His hand swept into the open front of his shirt and came out again with one of the hand guns Zurk—or Guyard—had made in the secret furnace. In one swift motion, he leveled the gun at Zuldi's huge chest and squeezed the trigger.
The crash of the explosion jarred against Zurk's ears with a shattering force that drove some of the blackness from his brain. He saw immediately that the charge had not reached its intended mark.
One of the other creatures, at sight of the gun, had leaped suddenly forward—to receive the heavy slug in his own chest.
The bullet did not stop him. His momentum carried his dead body forward to crash into Bob, to knock the gun from his hand and to send him spinning and stumbling backward.