Andy would never be able to hear the term royal bearing again without thinking of carrying King Rajahd'een's unconscious body--and the smelly feet that went with it--down the street in the middle of the night while being hunted by a bunch of guys who wanted to chop him and his friends into tiny little pieces. He was sure they looked ridiculous. He was equally sure no one would laugh at them until they chopped them into little tiny pieces. I have to stop thinking about tiny pieces.
"What's the plan?" John asked. His voice sounded strained. No one answered him. Seconds later he asked again.
"We're going to stop carrying him as soon as I think of something else to do."
Tom's voice sounded smooth. Too smooth. Andy shot a look over his shoulder and tried not to grin. Tom's face was cracked in a smile in the light from a window they passed. Andy was glad to see the grin.
"What're you thinking?"
"On your right, up ahead, there's a store. We're going to take him in there and lie low for a couple of hours."
"What happens when the store owner wants to open in the morning?" Andy asked.
"And what happens when the king wakes up?" John asked.
"We knock him out."
"The store owner, or Raj?" Andy was pulling no the guy's leg in a rush to get to the doorway on his right. He forced himself to slow down.
"Yes."
"I knew you were going to say that."
"Then why the hell did you ask?"
From Chapter Sixty-six, Sexton Sand
No comments:
Post a Comment