He had no thoughts, no feelings, only the raging instinct for survival. He aimed the shotgun without a plan, and the blast exploded into the dragon’s chest at the base of the neck with fiery sparks, the shock rippling through the scales the length of its body with flashes of emerald and ruby. The creature lurched, its face wrinkling, as if in pain. Steve fired again. The blast ignited a violent splash of color on the flank just behind the foreleg. The clawed hand came up, palm out, and blocked the third shot, then the fourth as lead shot pelted the cave walls. Steve let out a cry of terror as the giant hand filled his vision and pummeled him into the rock wall. He struck his head against the stone and dropped to his knees, dazed. Somehow, even as his head was spinning and his body teetering, he got off another shot that hit the dragon midway down its neck. Suddenly the shotgun was gone. Steve was just realizing there was nothing in his hands when he saw the dragon, razor teeth bared in anger, hurl the gun across the cave where it clattered against the stone wall near the entrance and landed in the sand.
