12. MARTIGAN
Martigan had to fire two rounds to kill the first thing: one to shatter the jar and another to blast its brains out the back of its head onto the deck. It no sooner fell to the deck before the seagulls were swooping in for tasty bites of viscera and bowel. He fired a few more rounds at chests and limbs, and watched with mounting horror as the jarheads shrugged them off like mosquito bites. He wheeled on Hannibal Mo.
“Looks like headshots only, Mo,” Martigan said.
Mo stood there, petrified. Martigan walked over, grabbed Mo by the shoulder, and shoved him forward.
“Mo!”
Hannibal turned slowly, like a geisha with bound feet, to face his captain, but cast his eyes down to avoid Martigan’s gaze. Martigan grabbed the axe just under the head and tugged Mo’s arms up into th
