Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Gus glanced down at the TV set as well.
“Oh, it’s the—”
Torri didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. As soon as the security guard’s attention was fixed on the TV set, she skittered out from behind the sign and darted out into the open air.
Freedom! Oh God, it felt so good. She didn’t care that it was freezing cold outside—she took deep breaths of the chilly autumn air, scented with dry leaves, and reveled in the feeling of not being locked up for the first time in three long months.
But as happy as she was, it really was cold out here. She went quickly down the steps, wishing she’d had a chance to change into her scrubs and sweater—they at least would have been warmer than the thin nightdress she was wearing. Also, it would have been good to put some shoes on. But she was in such a hurry to get out, she hadn’t thought of that.
Shivering, she crouched in the bushes that lined the front sidewalk, until Vic as O’Toole, let the door shut behind him and jogged down the steps. He really did an amazing imitation of the dead orderly, Torri thought as she watched him. Not just his outer appearance, but his speech patterns and physical movements too. If she hadn’t known better, she really would have thought it was O’Toole standing there, instead of Vic.
The resemblance was giving her the chills, so she was immensely relieved when, the minute he was near her, the big Kindred changed back into Vic again and held out a hand.
“Come on—let’s go,” he murmured. “Which vehicle do these keys belong to?”
Torri came out from behind the bushes and gripped his hand in hers.
“The employee parking lot is this way. O’Toole drives a big black truck with those stupid truck nuts hanging from the back hitch.”
“Truck nuts?” A look of confusion passed over Vic’s face.
“They’re like these big, molded testicles that hang down from the back of the truck,” Torri explained.
“But why?” He looked so confused she wanted to laugh. “Do your vehicles have sexes here on Earth? Are they part organic and part positronic like me? They didn’t appear that way when I first came here.”
“No, no—cars and trucks are just machines,” Torri told him. “Hanging a big pair of fake testicles on the back of your truck is just a stupid macho thing. It’s like saying—‘look what big balls I have’ to everyone driving by.”
“Do human males want to have oversized testicles?” Vic asked, frowning. “Wouldn’t that be a liability if you went into battle? They, after all, a vulnerable part of male anatomy.”
“They just want other people to think they have them,” Torri assured him. “Look—there’s his truck.”
They had made their way around to the employee parking lot and O’Toole had parked in the handicapped space—not surprising, considering what an asshole he’d been, Torri thought sourly. The truck was big and black with a thick splatter of mud on its sides and undercarriage. It had been a wet Autumn.
Dangling from the back hitch of the truck were a pair of silver “truck nuts” but what caught Torri’s eye was the fact that the back bumper and license plate was also obscured with a splatter of mud. That was good—it would throw anyone looking for them off—she hoped anyway.
“Come on, let’s go.” She nodded at Vic. “Er—do you know how to drive?”
“An Earth vehicle? I haven’t had the chance yet, but I’m very good with transportation systems. Just tell me the rules of your traffic patterns and I’ll be fine.”
“Well…all right.” Torri shrugged. She wasn’t going to argue with him—he had just gotten them both out of a place she never could have hoped to escape on her own. It was all right with her if he wanted to drive.
They got into the cab of the truck—which smelled like stale cigarettes and sour, spilled beer. But rather than using the ignition key, Vic simply put his hand over the ignition and the truck’s motor started right up, rumbling like muted thunder.
“Wow, I’d ask how you did that, but I guess it’s probably more to do with your positronic brain or net or whatever,” Torri murmured.
Vic gave her a grin which looked very human.
“Exactly. Now, I landed my ship up in a range of mountains—I believe your people call them ‘The Blue Ridge’—about half a night’s ride from here. I left it in one of your ‘scenic lookouts’ I think they’re called.”
Torri cast him an incredulous glance.
“What—you mean to tell me you left your spaceship parked where anybody could see it?”
He smiled. “Don’t worry—it’s camouflaged. We can’t have superior Kindred technology falling into primitive human hands.”
“Oh, right—thanks.” Torri laughed. It was beginning to sink in that she was free—really free—outside of St. Elizabeth’s at last! “Thank you for getting me out of there,” she told Vic. “I…I don’t know if I ever would have gotten out on my own.”