having a fit. Started pulling out his hair. Somethin’ isn’t right here, Del. It’s gotta be the tapes. I figure that Moro fellow’s a cheat.”
“We got trouble inside and out,” Del told her. “The head of this bunch wants our gas.”
“Well, he sure can’t have it, by God.”
“Ginny, the man’s got bug-spit eyes. Says he’ll take his chances with Possum. We better clear out while we can.”
“Huh-unh.” Ginny shook her head. “That’ll rile ’em for sure. Give me a minute or two. We’ve done a bunch of Noras and a Sally. I’ll switch them all to Barbara Jean and see.”
Del slipped back outside. It seemed a dubious answer at best. “That’s some woman,” said Fred.
“She’s something else today. Your insurance boys have got her fired.” Fred grinned at that. “Guess I better give her a try.”
“I wouldn’t,” Del said. “Why not?”
“Let her calm down some. Might be more than you want to handle.”
He knew at once this wasn’t the thing to say. Fred turned the colour of ketchup pie. “Why, you plastic piece of shit! I can handle any woman born… or put together out of a kit.”
“Suit yourself,” Del said, feeling the day going down the drain. “No charge at all.”
“Damn right there’s not.” Fred jerked the next man out of line. “Get ready in there, little lady. I am going to handle all your policy needs!”
The men cheered. Possum Dark, who understood at least three-fifths of the trouble down below, shot Del a questioning look. “Got any of those tacos?” someone asked.
“Not likely,” Del said.
Del considered turning himself off. Android suicide seemed the answer. But in less than three minutes, unnatural howls began to come from the van. The howls turned to shrieks. Life underwriters went rigid. Then Fred emerged, shattered. He looked like a man who’d kicked a bear with boils. His joints appeared to bend the wrong way. He looked whomper-eyed at Del, dazed and out-of-synch. Everything happened then in seconds thin as wire. Del saw Fred find him, saw the oil-spill eyes catch him clean. Saw the sawed-off barrels match the eyes so fast even electric feet couldn’t snatch him out of the way in time. Del’s arm exploded. He let it go and ran for the van. Possum couldn’t help. The actuary was below and too close. The twin-fifties opened up. Underwriters fled. Possum stitched the sand and sent them flying ragged and dead.
Del reached the driver’s seat as lead peppered the van. He felt slightly silly. Sitting there with one arm, one hand on the wheel.
“Move over,” Ginny said, “that isn’t going to work.”
“I guess not.”
Ginny sent them lurching through the scrub. “Never saw anything like it in my life,” she said aloud. “Turned that poor fella on, he started twisting out of his socks, bones snapping like sticks. Damndest orgasm I ever saw.”
“Something’s not working just right.”
“Well, I can see that, Del. Jesus, what’s that!” Ginny twisted the wheel as a large part of the desert rose straight up in the air. Smoking sand rained down on the van.
“Rockets,” Del said grimly. “That’s the reason they figured that crazy-fingered Possum was a snap. Watch where you’re going, girl!”
Two fiery pillars exploded ahead. Del leaned out the window and looked back. Half of Fort Pru’s wall was in pursuit. Possum sprayed everything in sight, but he couldn’t spot where the rockets were coming from. Underwriter assault cars split up, came at them from every side.
“Trying to flank us,” Del said. A rocket burst to the right. “Ginny, I’m not real sure what to do.”
“How’s the stub?”
“Slight electric tingle. Like a doorbell half a mile away. Ginny, they get us in a circle, we’re in very deep shit.”
“They hit that gas, we won’t have to worry about a thing. Oh Lord, now why did I think of that?”
Possum hit a semi clean on. It came to a stop and died, fell over like a bug. Del could see that being a truck and a wall all at once had its problems, balance being one.
“Head right at them,” he told Ginny, “then veer off sharp. They can’t turn quick going fast.”
“Del!”
Bullets rattled the van. Something heavy made a noise. The van skewed to a halt.
Ginny took her hands off the wheel and looked grim. “It appears they got the tires. Del, we’re flat dead is what we are. Let’s get out of this thing.”
And do what? Del wondered. Bearings seemed to roll about in his head. He sensed a malfunction on the way.
The Fort Pru vehicles shrieked to a stop. Crazed life agents piled out and came at them over the flats, firing small arms and hurling stones. A rocket burst nearby.
Possum’s guns suddenly stopped. Ginny grimaced in disgust. “Don’t you tell me we’re out of ammo, Possum Dark. That stuff’s plenty hard to get.”
Possum started to speak. Del waved his good arm to the north. “Hey now, would you look at that!”
Suddenly there was confusion in the underwriters’ ranks. A vaguely familiar pickup had appeared on the rise. The driver weaved through traffic, hurling grenades. They exploded in clusters, bright pink bouquets. He spotted the man with the rocket, lying flat atop a bus. Grenades stopped him cold. Underwriters abandoned the field and ran. Ginny saw a fairly peculiar sight. Six black Harleys had joined the truck. Chow Dogs with Uzis snaked in and out of the ranks, motors snarling and spewing horsetails of sand high in the air. They showed no mercy at all, picking off stragglers as they ran. A few underwriters made it to cover. In a moment, it was over. Fort Pru fled in sectional disarray.
“Well, if that wasn’t just in the nick of time,” Del said.
“I hate Chow Dogs,” Possum said. “They got black tongues, and that’s a fact.”
“I hope you folks are all right,” Moro said. “Well now, friend, looks as if you’ve thrown an arm.”
“Nothing real serious,” Del said.
“I’m grateful,” Ginny said. “Guess I got to tell you that.”
Moro was taken by her penetrating charm, her thankless manner. The fetching smudge of grease on her knee. He thought she was cute as a pup.
“I felt it was something I had to do. Circumstances being what they are.”
“And just what circumstances are that?” Ginny asked.
“That pesky Shepherd Dog’s sorta responsible for any trouble you might’ve had. Got a little pissed when that Possum cleaned him out. Five-card stud, I think it was. ’Course there might have been marking and crimping of cards, I couldn’t say.”
Ginny blew hair out of her eyes. “Mister, far as I can see, you’re not making a lot of sense.”
“I’m real embarrassed about this. That Dog got mad and kinda screwed up your gear.”
“You let a Dog repair my stuff?” Ginny said.
“Perfectly good technician. Taught him mostly myself. Okay if you don’t get his dander up. Those Shepherds are inbred, so I hear. What he did was set your tapes in a loop and speed ’em up. Customer’d get, say, twenty-six times his money’s worth. Works out to a Mach seven fuck. Could cause bodily harm.”
“Lord, I ought to shoot you in the foot,” Ginny said.
“Look,” Moro said, “I stand behind my work, and I got here quick as I could. Brought friends along to help, and I’m eating the cost of that.”
“Damn right,” Ginny said. The Chow Dogs sat their Harleys a ways off and glared at Possum. Possum Dark glared back. He secretly admired their leather gear, the Purina crests sewn on the backs.
“I’ll be adding up costs,” Ginny said. “I’m expecting full repairs.”
“You’ll get it. Of course you’ll have to spend some time in Bad News. Might take a little while.”
She caught his look and had to laugh. “You’re a stubborn son of a bitch, I’ll give you that. What’d you do with that Dog?”
“You want taco meat, I’ll make you a deal.”
