Nothing happens in the seconds that follow his mad gesture. He doesn't know why he did it. It was a foolish decision. Even more for someone who survived a spaceship crash and has been fending off creatures coming straight from nightmares.
Maybe he secretly wants to end it all, and that was the only way to outsmart his survival instincts.
The ticking of talons on the rock frees him from his contemplations. A gelid sinking sensation gapes his stomach as his amygdala overloads.
Fight. Flight. Fight. Flight.
There's nothing he can do. The raptor is near, far too near for him to react in a meaningful way. He let it sneak onto him and now he'll pay the price for it with his life.
He braces for the impact and the pain and blood that will gush from his body. As in slow motion, a set of jaws and dozens of teeth lunges at him.
Once again, his body answers for him.
A pair of feet he doesn't feel dash against the earth and propel the tender flesh of his neck and belly away from the beast.
The dry sound of jaws biting through empty air echoes in his ears.
His arms raise and throw themselves to his back, to gather his rifle. He points the laser to the back of the beast. The weapon buzzes and heats up as the tray of LIPC charges the atmosphere in front of him.
Beast and electricity collide one against the other, and the raptor is crowned in white blinding light.
It turns in mad rage. Blood and smoke spill out of its eyes and nostrils and mouth, and like a dragon it charges toward him.
It's just as in the fables of old: like the Lord's protection gave the knight the force to face the devilish beast, the drug in his system gifts him the answer to a just victory.
Rolling away has never felt so fluid. The world tumbles in front of him but he doesn't lose sight of the raptor.
Back again on his feet, he lets loose a barrage of bullets against the scaled wyrm. Blood and metal don't faze it but its gait betrays a hint of weariness.
He smiles.
It's a dance of death, and now he knows he can win it.