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   Chapter 33 No.33

Loderunner By Christina Engela Characters: 5489

Updated: 2018-06-30 12:02

"Knees together." Vic chided her young apprentice, who complied. "Straight back. A lady doesn't slouch!" She added. Jaymie rolled her eyes like a typical teenager and again complied. Vic's assistance had not failed to make an impression. She was wearing a floral top, and a neat pair of jeans. Her short hair was held back by a sparkly butterfly clip that also held a plume of synthetic blond hair a close approximation of her own shade. Hmm. It seemed Vic had been making good use of the local shops. Although Jaymie was somewhat flat in the chest department, the make-up and hair made up for it. For the first time, a smile looked at home on Jaymies' face. She looked happy.

Deire grumbled, and found what could have been a speck of bacon (hopefully), examined it carefully, then flicked it across the room.

"What we gonna do w' those two critters?" He enquired. "Bin there all trussed up like turkeys fer Thanks-givin' since last night. Can't keep 'em forever."

Tim took a thoughtful sip from his mug, and smiled faintly afterwards.

"They ain't had nuthin t'drink or eat – and hell, one of 'em even crapped himself last night. Lords know what the cattle think."

"Mooo." Came Nurse's contribution, followed by a giggle ending in coffee bubbles.

"Let me ask you something." Said Tim in a quiet voice. "If you're a tough guy, from a gang for instance – are you going to spill the beans right away? Or are you going to just keep quiet?"

"Well – I suppose ah'll clam up, not say nuthin." Deire reasoned. "Don't they have some code o' silence or somesuch – omelet or somethin'? Anyways, we knows why they came – her, I mean – him

urrounded by mounds of cow dung and suspicious looking puddles on the deck. They were glaring up at their captors as they silently and menacingly surrounded them. One's face was a little pale and green. Mad eyes, terrified minds. Wondering what was to be their fate? Watching the woman who had smacked them around the previous night, righting red-horned wildebeest back to their feet with her bare hands didn't help much.

To be honest, it smelled awful. But it wasn't the worst Timaset Skooch remembered. Finding a dead body in a flat, seven months post mortem… it leaves a pungent scent and flavor that lingers in the memory forever. He reached down and took the gag off one of them. Almost immediately he began to sing, like a canary – a dry-mouthed, madly terrified canary in a cage, smelling gas. Tim held up a finger to call for silence which fell instantly. Then he reached out and loosened the gag of the other man, who just stared at him insanely. He had been tied up and made to lie here for hours in his own mess, and was seething with anger and indignity and lord-knows-what else.

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