The City Outside the World

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They were hunting him.

You can’t stay alive on Mars for very long without developing a sixth sense for such things. And Ryker had stayed alive.

It was nothing obvious or overt the hunters did which caught his attention. They were too wise in the art of manhunting to blunder or expose themselves; no, it was nothing like that.

It was a matter of many small, trifling things. The sound of a footstep in an alley he had believed empty. A shadow against the wall, gone when he glanced at it. A tingle at the back of his neck that told him unseen eyes were watching.

They had been hunting him for a long time, he knew.

And now they were closing in… .

Ryker growled a curse under his breath: he had been hunted before, and knew the feeling well. Not that he liked it much.

The worse thing was not that men were after him. That much he could handle, he thought, balling his heavy hands into scarred fists and hunching his broad shoulders so that the great ropes of muscles stood out on his bronzed bare forearms like cables of woven copper wire. No, being hunted did not worry him.

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