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Dean scanned the area. “Where’s Krysty?”
Startled, Ryan jerked his head around. One glance told him she wasn’t in the tank with them. Rushing to a blasterport, the one-eyed man blew away the outside greenery with a single discharge and looked frantically at the alleyway. Ivy was everywhere, thickening by the second.
“Second floor!” Doc cried, standing at the rooftop periscope.
Ryan turned and found her, dangling from the grip of the mutie plant twenty feet in the air. Her .38
discharged once, pointing at nothing in particular. Then she was hauled over the rooftop and gone.
“Combat positions,” Ryan ordered, striding past his friends and sliding into the driver’s seat. “We’re going after her.”
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To Melissa and Lisa, for doing such a bang-up job. Thanks, amigas.
First edition June 2000
Copyright 2000 by Worldwide Library
It is the nature of a thing to be true to its essence: fire can only burn, a rock is unyielding, water flows.
Men alone are both animal and intellect and thus must choose if they shall stand erect and embrace the stars, or sprawl in the dirt and feats on blood like a lowly beast.
