by Newton, Nero
“You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
Marty was still gripping his hand. “I’ve seen all your TV spots. I’ve got them recorded on my laptop. Every one.”
Hugh only stared at him.
“And I’ve downloaded very good cartoons with you in them. They show you when you were all naked, making love with all sorts of pretty babes. You even made love to Daria, from MTV. Incredibly passionate. Daria was my hero when I was a kid.” His eyes widened and the delight on his face increased, as though he’d just remembered something wonderful. “I’ve added some of my own pictures of you to the fan sites. And movies. I’m going to show you. Did you know there are movies, too?”
Hugh stood up and tried to pull away, but the big hand did not let go of his. He began prying at the big fingers, but made no headway.
“I’ve been looking at those clips and pictures of you for weeks and weeks, all the time I’ve been following you. It’s practically all I do. We’re going to look at them together, you and I. Most of them are animated, but we’ll make real ones. Lots and lots.” His gaping smile brightened even more, and his lips somehow seemed to grow wetter. “I’ve been waiting so long for this, Hugh Sanderson. So long.”
Hugh began flailing, trying to throw the other man off balance.
“A very attractive young man asked me to say hello to you,” Marty said, “but I can’t remember his name.” His face crinkled like a muppet’s as he frowned. Then his features brightened and he cried happily, “It was Gimble! That’s a funny name, you know it? Gimble wimble dimble bimble….”
The place down the beach must have opened early today, because Hugh was suddenly hit by the most exquisite smell of bacon and fried potatoes.
He saw Marty’s free hand coming up to make contact with the underside of his captive arm. The airline bottle looked like a tiny glass thimble in those breadstick fingers.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
On the fifth morning, the dawn was bright and warm. Amy and Stephen ascended the ladder and scrambled into the shade and cover of a cluster of manzanita bushes. The outside air was sweet. Brandon had left them a portable radio that they turned on once in a while when they were up on the surface and could get reception. The latest news reports had said that the quarantine would likely be lifted in a little over a week. They had no phones, but Brandon had promised to try and get message to Rita and to Elaine, providing he found a way to do it untraceably.
“I’ve been thinking,” Amy said as the swigged canned orange juice. “We’ll still need to hide out for a while when we leave this place. At least until we know what’s become of Sanderson and Vendetti. And Top Gun Security.”
Stephen was sitting on the ground, using a couple of sturdy manzanita branches as a backrest. “I guess you’re right. But don’t feel like you have to finance everything. There are places I can go that aren’t too expensive.”
Amy walked over and stood looking down at him. Her cutoff jeans barely came to the tops of her thighs, and she had on the black tank top again. Her face was swollen and bruised where Eloy had thumped her, but she still looked great. Her face, belly, and shoulders were tanned, her muscles sleek and graceful. The phrase tough chick on a bike came to Stephen’s mind.
“I thought we were going somewhere together,” she said.
“That’d be fine, if you still want to do it that way. We talked about maybe Central Amer—”
She suddenly descended on him, landing with her butt on his thighs and her knees flanking his hips.
Staring at his eyes, her face deadpan, she said, “I didn’t jostle your broken hand, did I?”
“No, no. My hand’s—”
Again she cut him off, this time by smothering his mouth with hers. She withdrew and said, “I’m glad Brandon gave us brushes and toothpaste. I don’t think this’d be possible otherwise.” She kissed him again, longer, more intensely, then said, “I was thinking you might want to take a little sabbatical from the middle school, work for me for a while. Good pay. Nothing illegal if you don’t want.” She covered his mouth again before he could answer.
Stephen nearly passed out from the pleasure. When she let him speak again, he breathed, “Okay.”
“This isn’t part of the job, of course. There’s no obligation.” Another kiss. “Except for right now. This morning you don’t have a choice.” Another kiss.
“Okay.”
“The last time I was stuck in the middle of nowhere with someone,” she said, “I waited and waited and he didn’t do a thing the whole five days. I’m not waiting any longer this time.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. Another kiss. “This ain’t love.”
“Good.”
She sat back, pinning his legs to the ground. “What do you mean good?”
“You’re way too bad-ass for me.”
“You’re right.” She pulled off her tank top and attacked his mouth with hers again. “But I’m serious about having you work with me. Mostly research, since you’re good at that.”
“Okay.”
“Take your own shirt off. I don’t want to hurt your hand.”
Brandon came for them just before dusk nine days later. The quarantine was over.
The End
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Also by Nero Newton: PLANKTON WE HAVE HEARD ON HIGH
(By Foghorn Jollypox and Nero Newton)
at: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006ODMB0O
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B006ODMB0O