Read Online Hopscotch by Kevin J. Anderson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kevin J. Anderson
Tags: Science-Fiction, Fantasy
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ferns. Kiosk workers arranged clumps of neon daisies, altered scents and grafted on petals, added ribbons, audio-greeting buttons, or mirrored ornaments.
As soon as they were far enough from the monastery, Eduard told them in excited whispers about sneaking out with Daragon, finding the flower market, escaping from the terrorist explosion. “Look, that's where the hovercar crashed. You can see where the pavement's been wrecked.”
Garth stared at the site with appropriate respect. The side of a building had been scarred with black flames and smoke. A blossom of windows had shattered around the midpoint of the blast. A crowd gathered behind barricade tape to watch crews cleaning up the sidewalks. Mag-lock scaffolding hung on the sides of the skyscraper, while workers sliced off shards of mirrored glass.
Eduard lowered his eyes when he saw the vendor from whom he had snatched Teresa's bouquet. “We, uh, better buy from him.” The man added two extra stalks of magenta humming gladiolas to round out the purchase. Teresa's arms were filled with a richness of flowers, and she laughed.
Eduard whispered, wearing an impish grin, “Did you hear about the woman who tried to hopscotch with her dog? She was all alone, had the pet for years, and she wanted to give him a chance to be human for a little while.”
Garth groaned. “I know where this is going. . . .”
“She ended up nothing more than an empty body. Neighbors found her only because the starving dog kept barking and barking.”
Teresa looked at him, astonished. “Do you think it was the slippage disease? She got detached and couldn't find her way back to her body?”
“No, it's because she was stupid enough to try hopscotching with a dog.” Eduard laughed at his story; Teresa seemed reluctant to believe him.
Garth looked up at the apartment buildings—and was the first to see the gunmetal-gray BTL chopter cruise into position midway up one skyscraper not far from the flower market. “Look up there. Something's going on.”
The ominous craft maneuvered against the mirrored glass. A rubber-lipped transfer tube sealed against the window. Even from far below, Garth could hear cutting sounds, grinding like saw-powered sharks' teeth.
“The Beetles found someone,” Eduard said. “Maybe it's the bombers.”
Muffled by distance, Garth heard a few faint projectile shots, but he couldn't tell if the weapons fire came from fugitives inside the domicile, or from the Beetles themselves. Suddenly one of the windows adjacent to the besieged apartment shattered, spraying shards to the streets below. Pedestrians took cover under overhangs, kiosks, and tables.
Four people sprang out of the smashed window, all of them wearing olive-green jumpsuits. For a moment, Garth thought they were leaping to their deaths—until he saw that they had secured themselves with snakelike cords anchored inside the room. The four escapees rappelled down, magnetic pulleys humming as they plummeted toward the street below.
Above them, the BTL gunship opened fire with a cloud of stun projectiles, shattering other windows. One of the escaping fugitives slammed against the skyscraper wall, leaving a splash of blood on the mirror glass. Arms and legs hanging limp, he spun down, slowed by the automatic pulley-brakes.
Another window cracked; more gunfire erupted. The fugitives were using lethal armaments, and the Beetles rapidly switched from stun projectiles to seeker bullets.
The other three anti-COM terrorists continued down, bouncing off the sides of the building, picking up speed. They hit the sidewalks with bent legs and snapped off their elastic ropes. Released, the cables spun back upward like angry cobras. Moving with well-practiced confidence, the fugitives tore off their olive jumpsuits, revealing bland street clothes underneath. Dodging weapons fire, they threw the tattered garments into the crowd and quickly blended in.
Pedestrians ran about knocking over flower stands, rushing for
As soon as they were far enough from the monastery, Eduard told them in excited whispers about sneaking out with Daragon, finding the flower market, escaping from the terrorist explosion. “Look, that's where the hovercar crashed. You can see where the pavement's been wrecked.”
Garth stared at the site with appropriate respect. The side of a building had been scarred with black flames and smoke. A blossom of windows had shattered around the midpoint of the blast. A crowd gathered behind barricade tape to watch crews cleaning up the sidewalks. Mag-lock scaffolding hung on the sides of the skyscraper, while workers sliced off shards of mirrored glass.
Eduard lowered his eyes when he saw the vendor from whom he had snatched Teresa's bouquet. “We, uh, better buy from him.” The man added two extra stalks of magenta humming gladiolas to round out the purchase. Teresa's arms were filled with a richness of flowers, and she laughed.
Eduard whispered, wearing an impish grin, “Did you hear about the woman who tried to hopscotch with her dog? She was all alone, had the pet for years, and she wanted to give him a chance to be human for a little while.”
Garth groaned. “I know where this is going. . . .”
“She ended up nothing more than an empty body. Neighbors found her only because the starving dog kept barking and barking.”
Teresa looked at him, astonished. “Do you think it was the slippage disease? She got detached and couldn't find her way back to her body?”
“No, it's because she was stupid enough to try hopscotching with a dog.” Eduard laughed at his story; Teresa seemed reluctant to believe him.
Garth looked up at the apartment buildings—and was the first to see the gunmetal-gray BTL chopter cruise into position midway up one skyscraper not far from the flower market. “Look up there. Something's going on.”
The ominous craft maneuvered against the mirrored glass. A rubber-lipped transfer tube sealed against the window. Even from far below, Garth could hear cutting sounds, grinding like saw-powered sharks' teeth.
“The Beetles found someone,” Eduard said. “Maybe it's the bombers.”
Muffled by distance, Garth heard a few faint projectile shots, but he couldn't tell if the weapons fire came from fugitives inside the domicile, or from the Beetles themselves. Suddenly one of the windows adjacent to the besieged apartment shattered, spraying shards to the streets below. Pedestrians took cover under overhangs, kiosks, and tables.
Four people sprang out of the smashed window, all of them wearing olive-green jumpsuits. For a moment, Garth thought they were leaping to their deaths—until he saw that they had secured themselves with snakelike cords anchored inside the room. The four escapees rappelled down, magnetic pulleys humming as they plummeted toward the street below.
Above them, the BTL gunship opened fire with a cloud of stun projectiles, shattering other windows. One of the escaping fugitives slammed against the skyscraper wall, leaving a splash of blood on the mirror glass. Arms and legs hanging limp, he spun down, slowed by the automatic pulley-brakes.
Another window cracked; more gunfire erupted. The fugitives were using lethal armaments, and the Beetles rapidly switched from stun projectiles to seeker bullets.
The other three anti-COM terrorists continued down, bouncing off the sides of the building, picking up speed. They hit the sidewalks with bent legs and snapped off their elastic ropes. Released, the cables spun back upward like angry cobras. Moving with well-practiced confidence, the fugitives tore off their olive jumpsuits, revealing bland street clothes underneath. Dodging weapons fire, they threw the tattered garments into the crowd and quickly blended in.
Pedestrians ran about knocking over flower stands, rushing for
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