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Authors: Fay McDermott
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slanted down over the fat man. “I do
not see him as much of a threat,” Miguel assured her. “Unless
you have something in these woods that will eat him before he
wakes up, I suggest we leave. With luck, fat man will think his
blood sugar was low and he fainted, yeah?”
“No,” she shook her
head as she continued to watch the big man. “Farley may be dumb
as a post, but when it comes to what he considers his,
especially when there are credits involved, he doesn't forget or
forgive. He blames you,” she glanced at Miguel, her look making
it obvious she did, too, though she was trying to forgive him,
“and, right or wrong, he'll likely make trouble. He might even
make a complaint to the authorities.” She pushed her hair out of
her face as she walked back to the pilot, her expression grim.
“We can't let him do that, Miguel.”
A muscle tensed in
the man's neck, his gaze moving from her to the bloated carcass
wheezing in the grass. “What do you suggest, eh? You want to tie
him to your bike and drag him back to your house? Maybe we can
put him in the barn, yeah? Ball-gag him and feed him his brain
with a nice Chianti?”
Not expecting her to
get the obscure reference, the pilot strongly disapproved of
kidnapping, especially such a burden as large as her neighbor.
“What will we do then? You tell me, querida . When he is
missed, and folk come looking, what will we do? Because then we
will really have a problem.”
She frowned at
Miguel, thinking he said some of the strangest things, then
slowly turned around in a circle. What should they do? Think.
Dammit, think. One thing kept surfacing, insistently pushing
itself, rightly so, to the top of her priorities in this whole
big mess. She had to get home. She'd left her father alone for
far too long. Also, she had become aware of the worrisome fact
that her foot was completely numb now and it was inching up her
leg. The bottom half of her calf had no feeling now. She knew
the injury was swelling up and that was cutting off circulation.
If she didn't get the boot off soon, she'd be putting herself in
danger of doing some permanent damage.
She huffed out a deep
breath and rubbed at her head again. “I just need some time to
think of what we can do but that blast will have registered with
the sat net.” An accusatory glare was back in her eyes. “Or,
what's left of it after you space jockeys got through with it.
Once a report of what happened out here reaches the right desk,
there will likely be military all over this place.”
Sounding frustrated
and resentful that she was even having to think of any of this,
she gestured at Farley's hovertruck. It was built for heavy work
and she didn't have much concern that it had survived the heat
blast. “Can you operate one of those? It has the winch on the
back that we can use to lift him. I have some rope. We can tie
him down so he doesn't fall off.” She didn't wait for an answer,
formulating her plan as she talked. “Does that weapon of yours
have a stun setting? I think we should keep him under until we
can get back to the farm.”
Mention of his weapon
and being able to use it seemed to put the pilot back in good
cheer and he patted the lump tucked against his back, wincing
when the metal rubbed his tender skin. The shirt hadn’t been so
lucky either, the pressure wave having blown the individual
fibers apart. It wasn’t hanging on by much. “Sure does. And I
can make anything sing in my hands.” He winked unashamedly and
started for the hovercraft. The woman was right, after all. They
could figure this out later.
Chapter 6
It took far less time
and only one zap from the gun to get the neighbor hog-tied and
winched. The craft did indeed come to life in the pilot's hands
and he expertly brought it under control to follow Lyrianne back
through the woods and to her farm where the
not see him as much of a threat,” Miguel assured her. “Unless
you have something in these woods that will eat him before he
wakes up, I suggest we leave. With luck, fat man will think his
blood sugar was low and he fainted, yeah?”
“No,” she shook her
head as she continued to watch the big man. “Farley may be dumb
as a post, but when it comes to what he considers his,
especially when there are credits involved, he doesn't forget or
forgive. He blames you,” she glanced at Miguel, her look making
it obvious she did, too, though she was trying to forgive him,
“and, right or wrong, he'll likely make trouble. He might even
make a complaint to the authorities.” She pushed her hair out of
her face as she walked back to the pilot, her expression grim.
“We can't let him do that, Miguel.”
A muscle tensed in
the man's neck, his gaze moving from her to the bloated carcass
wheezing in the grass. “What do you suggest, eh? You want to tie
him to your bike and drag him back to your house? Maybe we can
put him in the barn, yeah? Ball-gag him and feed him his brain
with a nice Chianti?”
Not expecting her to
get the obscure reference, the pilot strongly disapproved of
kidnapping, especially such a burden as large as her neighbor.
“What will we do then? You tell me, querida . When he is
missed, and folk come looking, what will we do? Because then we
will really have a problem.”
She frowned at
Miguel, thinking he said some of the strangest things, then
slowly turned around in a circle. What should they do? Think.
Dammit, think. One thing kept surfacing, insistently pushing
itself, rightly so, to the top of her priorities in this whole
big mess. She had to get home. She'd left her father alone for
far too long. Also, she had become aware of the worrisome fact
that her foot was completely numb now and it was inching up her
leg. The bottom half of her calf had no feeling now. She knew
the injury was swelling up and that was cutting off circulation.
If she didn't get the boot off soon, she'd be putting herself in
danger of doing some permanent damage.
She huffed out a deep
breath and rubbed at her head again. “I just need some time to
think of what we can do but that blast will have registered with
the sat net.” An accusatory glare was back in her eyes. “Or,
what's left of it after you space jockeys got through with it.
Once a report of what happened out here reaches the right desk,
there will likely be military all over this place.”
Sounding frustrated
and resentful that she was even having to think of any of this,
she gestured at Farley's hovertruck. It was built for heavy work
and she didn't have much concern that it had survived the heat
blast. “Can you operate one of those? It has the winch on the
back that we can use to lift him. I have some rope. We can tie
him down so he doesn't fall off.” She didn't wait for an answer,
formulating her plan as she talked. “Does that weapon of yours
have a stun setting? I think we should keep him under until we
can get back to the farm.”
Mention of his weapon
and being able to use it seemed to put the pilot back in good
cheer and he patted the lump tucked against his back, wincing
when the metal rubbed his tender skin. The shirt hadn’t been so
lucky either, the pressure wave having blown the individual
fibers apart. It wasn’t hanging on by much. “Sure does. And I
can make anything sing in my hands.” He winked unashamedly and
started for the hovercraft. The woman was right, after all. They
could figure this out later.
Chapter 6
It took far less time
and only one zap from the gun to get the neighbor hog-tied and
winched. The craft did indeed come to life in the pilot's hands
and he expertly brought it under control to follow Lyrianne back
through the woods and to her farm where the
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