For Love of Mother-Not - Alan Dean Foster [108]
The Peaceforcer reacted instinctively to the unexpected charge. A brief burst of high-intensity sound struck the leader of the Meliorares. His stomach exploded through his spine. No sound had come from the gun. There had been only a slight punching noise when the burst had struck home.
One of the elderly women screamed. The Peaceforcer cursed her overanxiousness and took aim at the source of her embarrassment. As she pointed her weapon at Pip, all the fury and pain and anguish crashed together inside Flinx’s head.
“Pip! No!” he yelled, rushing the woman. The other Peaceforcer moved to cover his companion. Pip darted toward the rear of the storage room. The woman’s gun tracked the minidrag as her finger started to tighten on the trigger.
Something happened. Cruachan’s eyes were still open. A smile of satisfaction appeared on his face. Then he died.
Night descended unexpectedly.
Flinx was floating inside a giant bass drum. Someone was pounding on it from both sides. The rhythm was erratic, the sound soul-deafening. It hurt.
Something was resting on his chest. I am lying on my back, he thought. He raised his head to look down at himself. Pip lay on the slickertic, bruised but alive. The flying snake looked dazed. As consciousness returned with a vengeance, the narrow tongue darted out repeatedly to touch Flinx’s lips and nose. Content, the minidrag ceased its examination and crawled from chest to shoulder. Flinx fought to sit up.
There was something wrong with his balance. It made the simple act of changing from a prone to a sitting position into a major operation. Two things he noted immediately; it was cold, and rain was soaking his face. Then his vision cleared and he saw the old man bending over him.
For an instant the fear returned, but this was no Meliorare. It was a kindly, unfamiliar face. The oldster was dressed very differently from the Society members. There hadn’t been anything shabby about their attire. This stranger was a refugee from a simpler life.
“Are you all right, boy?” He looked over his shoulder. “I think he’s all right.”
Flinx looked past the old man. Several other strangers were gathered behind him. It occurred to Flinx that he was the center of their concerned curiosity. Strong arms reached toward him and helped him to his feet. There were comments about the flying snake riding his shoulder.
A younger man stepped forward. “You okay?” He searched Flinx’s face. “I’ve had a little medical training.”
“I’m not—I think—” Funny, his mouth wasn’t working right. He swallowed. “What happened?”
“You tell me,” said the unsmiling young man. He was dressed neatly, much more so than the oldster who had first examined Flinx. A yellow-and-green-striped slickertic covered what Flinx could see of a brightly colored business suit.
“I’m a factotum for the Subhouse of Grandier. I was just coming down to check on the arrival of a recent shipment from Evoria.” He turned and pointed. “That’s our warehouse over there. I nearly tripped over you.”
“Me, too,” the oldster said, “though I’m no factotum for anybody ’cept my own house.” He grinned, showing missing teeth.
Flinx brushed wet strands of hair from his eyes and forehead. How had he gotten so wet? He couldn’t remember lying down in the street. He couldn’t remember lying down at all.
Now that those around him had quieted, the roar that had filled his ears since he had regained consciousness assumed deafening proportions. Sirens sounded in counterpart.
A couple of blocks away, flames shot skyward from the top of a warehouse in defiance of the steady, light rain. A fire-control skimmer hovered off to one side, its crew spraying the flames with fire-retardant chemical foam. It combined with the rain to knock the blaze back into itself.
“Anyway,” the younger man next to Flinx continued as they both watched the dying inferno, “I was just entering our office over there when that building”—he nodded toward the flames—“blew up. If I remember aright, it was four or five stories tall. There are only two left, as you can see. Top three must’ve been incinerated