Authors: Rex Miller
Profane Men (24 page)
“You gonna take me
and
Prince, man? No fuckin' way.”
“Right. Hey, well, good to see ya, man, hello, and I must be leaving.”
“No hard feelings, pal.”
“No. Course not. Like I say, I was just here, been driving up from New England. I didn't even know you were alive. I didn't see anybody else walk away from that bird. Did anybody else make it?”
“No. I saw you get out and I saw it blow. If they weren't already dead when we crashed, they died then. You and I are it. And Harold.”
“Harold?”
“So I heard, man. I was around for a while, figurin' how to get my ass out of there. I knew a dude was close to some Nung up in the hills. Said there were stories about some ugly dude was hiding for a while and walked into King about the time our team got lit up. Real skinny, ugly fucker. That sounds like it had to be our friend Harold.”
“Jesus.”
“What happened when you went back?”
“What do you mean?”
“How come they didn't find some way to take you off? Whoever was determined to abort that mission coulda done a
job
on you real easy. But you're still here. That's what looks a little strange, no offense.”
I went back to the beginning and laid the whole thing on him. I guess he bought it because I'm still here.
“Well, whatever works,” he said.
“There it is.” Long-ass pause. Prince is breathing down my neck. “Uh . . . you still in the same â er, line of work?”
“No way. Too many amateurs in that shit now. I'm out of it.”
“That's cool. Well, listen, man, good to see you and that crap. I'm gonna leave if you have no objections.”
“OK. Take care.”
“Yeah, man. You too.” I start to open the door real easy like. You never fucking know about Shooter. I ease out the door waiting to feel some real sharp fangs sink into my hippie haircut when Price says, “Hey, mano. C'mere a minute.” Oh, fuck.
“What.”
“You know what has more bones than a fish?”
“Uhhh. . . . No, what?”
“A graveyard, baby.” Shooter laughs.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1989 by Rex Miller
ISBN 978-1-4976-3157-1
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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