The Last Immortal
Copyright © 2012 by Anne Spackman
All Rights Reserved.
Cover Art by Boris Rasin
Blood. Warm and salty. Leeching through the gaps between his teeth. The blood filling his mouth sent shivers of panic through him. Death lingered above him, clinging like a shadow ready to embrace him. The impending cold of her dark presence terrified him to his core. But he had no time for panic—he was suffocating. His eyes flicked around the shattered cockpit and found his crushed air-hose.
“I’ve got to get out of this—now!” he thought desperately as he struggled to unlatch his helmet. With a wild movement, he cast the dark blue, gold trimmed helmet aside, and gulped in air, giving no further thought to the helmet that clattered away, bouncing over the edge of the cliff into the white-crested sea.