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   Chapter 84 No.84

The Galaxii Series Omnibus 1 By Christina Engela Characters: 5231

Updated: 2018-06-29 19:02

Mykl suddenly sat up in the back seat, bewildered, eyes wide open. Blachart turned on him.

"You!" He barked, "Lie down!"

Mykl smiled an unnatural smile, insisted he was feeling on top of the world – and passed out again. Yeah, thought Blachart. The trouble with this guy is he thinks the world is Ripley Jones.

Blachart slid back behind the wheel, and pulled away. Someday soon he was going to retire, he thought. He'd go off to some distant quiet place, have nothing more to do with people, and then none of this shit would matter anymore!

* * *

"Fuck!" Hanson swore as he replaced the clip of his nine-mil. The metal trashcans he was using for cover were vibrating under the impact of automatic gunfire. He wiped some errant hair out of his face with a sweaty palm. Rethinking that, he tore the hairpiece from his head. It was warm and made him sweat – and anyway, their cover was long gone now!

This was turning out to be a long night. The unfortunate circumstances which had brought them here were still fresh in his mind. So stupid! They were doing so well up till then. Some of the local cops had approached them and tried to start a conversation. It wasn't long before they became suspicious and insisted on taking them 'downtown' for questioning. One thing led to another, and two hours, two dead cops – and gaggles of screeching kugels later, they were here, trapped behind a barricade of flimsy trashcans outside a shopping mall in the fancy district of Tortuga. Two big black police cruiser pick-ups had parked at either end of the alley an


"What happened? What was that?"

"Me." Hanson grinned. "I happened!"

A burning tire rim landed noisily on the other side of the little fortification.

"Well I hope you can happen again, sir!" Casey retorted, as the men at the other end opened fire on them again. "Because there's another of those on the other side!"

Hanson wished that were possible – the weapon only had one grenade, and the rest were presumably on the body of the guy who'd kindly supplied them with the rifle. The fire had already spread across the alleyway, raging and blistering. There was no getting out that way, Hanson realized, but at least, for now, they only had to worry about fighting on one side. Just then, a little red sports car screeched to a halt a little way behind the intact cruiser, knocking a man in black flying sideways and bouncing off a wall. A quick burp from the handgun the driver stuck over the windshield dispatched the rest. Hanson recognized the driver. The man behind the wheel – surely that was -? It couldn't be him!

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