[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
maybe three hours? And they been stonin murderers for forty-five minutes. Yeah. He
looked back at Harland. Y know, Har, I think we might take an early lunch break.
Together, if you catch me.
67
Angelia Sparrow & Naomi Brooks
Maybe down at Nell s, Harland suggested. Since rejoining the U.S., women were
again allowed to work. This had the salutary effect of allowing Widow Jackson, Nell
informally, the best baker in four counties, to run the diner in Franklin, about five miles
north and west of the tollbooth. Piece of gooseberry pie sure sounds good. It frosted
last night, so maybe she ll have persimmon cookies. He could feel the Semi of Fate
bearing down on him despite his best efforts.
They spent the rest of the morning with one eye on the chase feed and tracking the
fugitives on the wall map. Only two border crossings occurred, a young man on a fuel-
cell motorcycle coming up from Nashville, flashing a pass saying he was on
government business to the U.S. and a couple headed south on a guest card to see their
family on the other side of the line.
They watched as the semi crashed a roadblock of wooden barricades in Nashville.
When the escapees were north of Nashville, a large tank from the Kentucky Home
Guard Armory in Franklin rolled down the road. The toll-takers eyed the tank and the
two sheriff s cars.
Might be time for lunch, Har.
Harland nodded. They headed out to Rick s motorbike.
You are government employees during a national emergency, bellowed the
bullhorn. Return to your post.
Harland could definitely see that noose looming a lot clearer. He sat back down and
waited miserably. He used the binoculars and could see the guys on the C.S. side of the
border trying another roadblock.
In twenty minutes, the semi crested the distant hill. It got bigger very rapidly.
Harland couldn t take his eyes off it. Sorry, Grandpa Samuel, he muttered.
Raise the toll arm, barked the bullhorn.
Rick opened the gate and the men watched. The truck, black and shiny, the
hummingbird on the side visible, two men behind the windshield, barreled down on
them. It crashed the sand-filled plastic barricades the C.S. had set up and roared up
toward the U.S. booth.
Screw the inspection and border paperwork, Rick muttered.
The driver lowered his window and threw something in the general direction of the
change basket as the rig screamed through. The passenger gave a sheepish sort of look
and waved at them. The truck vanished quickly over the next hill and twenty C.S. cars
followed, hot on it.
The tank rolled into the middle of the highway.
Lower the gate, the bullhorn instructed. Attention, Confederated Police, you are
trespassing on U.S. soil. This is an international incident. We will overlook it if you
return to your side of the border at once. Continue pursuit and we will fire. The tank s
gun tracked and followed the lead car.
68
Glad Hands
The C.S. police seemed to consider a moment and turned tail, scooting back over
the border as fast as they could.
The sheriff got out of the car and came to the tollbooth. You boys kept your heads
just fine. He spat on the ground. Letting ass-bandits and fugitives in. What a country.
But orders came in from Frankfort and they had it from Philadelphia. We don t want
trouble with Pacifica or the Tribals. Good lads. I ll see there s a little something extra for
you on payday. He turned and headed back to the car. The tank rolled off.
Harland stepped out to check the toll-basket. Two gold Pacifica salmons gleamed in
it. He flipped one to Rick. It d make quite a story for that grandbaby his oldest girl was
expecting.
The Hummingbird sped up I-65 until Chuck spotted the rest area sign near mile 38.
He pulled in fast, letting the hill up to the parking area slow them some, parking badly
and taking two spaces. He pulled the brakes, but didn t turn the truck off as he swung
out of the cab, missing both steps and sliding down the hand rail to dash for the
bathroom at the top of the ridge. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szamanka888.keep.pl
maybe three hours? And they been stonin murderers for forty-five minutes. Yeah. He
looked back at Harland. Y know, Har, I think we might take an early lunch break.
Together, if you catch me.
67
Angelia Sparrow & Naomi Brooks
Maybe down at Nell s, Harland suggested. Since rejoining the U.S., women were
again allowed to work. This had the salutary effect of allowing Widow Jackson, Nell
informally, the best baker in four counties, to run the diner in Franklin, about five miles
north and west of the tollbooth. Piece of gooseberry pie sure sounds good. It frosted
last night, so maybe she ll have persimmon cookies. He could feel the Semi of Fate
bearing down on him despite his best efforts.
They spent the rest of the morning with one eye on the chase feed and tracking the
fugitives on the wall map. Only two border crossings occurred, a young man on a fuel-
cell motorcycle coming up from Nashville, flashing a pass saying he was on
government business to the U.S. and a couple headed south on a guest card to see their
family on the other side of the line.
They watched as the semi crashed a roadblock of wooden barricades in Nashville.
When the escapees were north of Nashville, a large tank from the Kentucky Home
Guard Armory in Franklin rolled down the road. The toll-takers eyed the tank and the
two sheriff s cars.
Might be time for lunch, Har.
Harland nodded. They headed out to Rick s motorbike.
You are government employees during a national emergency, bellowed the
bullhorn. Return to your post.
Harland could definitely see that noose looming a lot clearer. He sat back down and
waited miserably. He used the binoculars and could see the guys on the C.S. side of the
border trying another roadblock.
In twenty minutes, the semi crested the distant hill. It got bigger very rapidly.
Harland couldn t take his eyes off it. Sorry, Grandpa Samuel, he muttered.
Raise the toll arm, barked the bullhorn.
Rick opened the gate and the men watched. The truck, black and shiny, the
hummingbird on the side visible, two men behind the windshield, barreled down on
them. It crashed the sand-filled plastic barricades the C.S. had set up and roared up
toward the U.S. booth.
Screw the inspection and border paperwork, Rick muttered.
The driver lowered his window and threw something in the general direction of the
change basket as the rig screamed through. The passenger gave a sheepish sort of look
and waved at them. The truck vanished quickly over the next hill and twenty C.S. cars
followed, hot on it.
The tank rolled into the middle of the highway.
Lower the gate, the bullhorn instructed. Attention, Confederated Police, you are
trespassing on U.S. soil. This is an international incident. We will overlook it if you
return to your side of the border at once. Continue pursuit and we will fire. The tank s
gun tracked and followed the lead car.
68
Glad Hands
The C.S. police seemed to consider a moment and turned tail, scooting back over
the border as fast as they could.
The sheriff got out of the car and came to the tollbooth. You boys kept your heads
just fine. He spat on the ground. Letting ass-bandits and fugitives in. What a country.
But orders came in from Frankfort and they had it from Philadelphia. We don t want
trouble with Pacifica or the Tribals. Good lads. I ll see there s a little something extra for
you on payday. He turned and headed back to the car. The tank rolled off.
Harland stepped out to check the toll-basket. Two gold Pacifica salmons gleamed in
it. He flipped one to Rick. It d make quite a story for that grandbaby his oldest girl was
expecting.
The Hummingbird sped up I-65 until Chuck spotted the rest area sign near mile 38.
He pulled in fast, letting the hill up to the parking area slow them some, parking badly
and taking two spaces. He pulled the brakes, but didn t turn the truck off as he swung
out of the cab, missing both steps and sliding down the hand rail to dash for the
bathroom at the top of the ridge. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]