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   Chapter 39 No.39

High Steaks By Christina Engela Characters: 5639

Updated: 2018-06-30 12:01


"Hi, Vic." Tim greeted. "You know I'm not 'the boss' anymore. Call me Tim!"

"Old habits die hard, I guess!" She grinned.

"I guess." He nodded. "Well, we've got a little job to take care of in a few hours. Best offload the last of those wildebeest here – Jenny said she'd show you where you can put them."

"Sure, Boss." Vic nodded. "Poor things keep fallin' over without enough of them to lean against an' keep upright! Already had to pick three o'them up this morning that fell over during the night!"

Vic waved at them as they left her and headed for the nearest hatch leading to the interior of the ship, and turned on the pressure cleaner again. Timaset Skooch pondered the importance of the mission given to them by his friend Gary Beck. The piece of paper in his pocket had a set of co-ordinates scribbled on it in pen – the place Celeste had to land at exactly 12:30pm! He wondered how Deire and the crew would take the news!

* * *

It is highly doubtful that any river anywhere – other than the Whatoosie River, which ran the length of Skeggs Valley on Deanna – displayed billboard-sized signs along its banks to warn casual sight-seers and passers-by to 'BEWARE: FISHERMEN' and 'DANGER: BLASTING!' If any ever did, it is also even more unlikely that they could become a tourist attraction for that very reason – which, as it happened, was the case here.

People came from far and wide to visit the Whatoosie, and to try their hand at catching the infamous cocka-snoek – a very wily and creative fish native to Deanna. Yes, it was a fish – but as those who tried more conventional methods of fishing, such as fly-fishing or angling with a rod and reel, or casting ne

f youth – misspent or otherwise… A funny little noise in the bushes a short distance behind him, told him a flatular canary was around, looking for worms.

Ahhh. Peace and quiet, he thought, lazily placing his empty tin cup on top of a yellow plastic crate beside his chair, marked 'STUN GRENADES' in large, clearly visible black stenciled letters.

It had been a late night out fishing, and the bulk of the club were still asleep in the big tent, which accounted for the snoring – but not for the odd growling noise that had just entered Smythe's hearing. Just as he began looking round for the source, wondering if last night's supper of cocka-snoek with beans had anything to do with it – there was a sudden 'pop' close by. A cheerful looking male figure dressed in fresh jeans, boots, a check shirt and a cowboy hat had just appeared out of nowhere – at the opposite side of the circle of chairs!

"What the-" Smythe began, quickly looking up at the clear blue sky, and then back down at the apparition. "Where did you spring from?"

"Good morning!" The man greeted, looking somehow instantly familiar to Smythe.

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