I heard it across the hills even before he acknowledged: the rapid-fire of Gargantua’s Gatling g*n—tearing up targets, hopefully taking out the missile operator.
The radio hissed and squelched. “I heard it and I am already there, and engaging,” said Mr. Fantastic. “Stand by.”
I put my hand over Sam’s own and held it against my cheek, holding her as tight as I could, rocking her gently. “Hang in there, kiddo. We’re going to get you to that medical bay, you just wait and see. But you’ve got to hang in there.”
I watched as the animals spun around in a deathmatch, kicking up orange dust, causing clouds of it to overtake us, growling and gnashing their teeth.
“It’s no good, mon,” said Nigel. “I’m down to my last clip.”
“Here,” said Lazaro, and tossed him a fresh one. “I brought extra.”
B
