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= Taxi M'Koo and the Helium Drive  =

Punk Post-Apoc SF

by John Argo


6.

title by John ArgoA growling woke her. Sam sat upright like a whipcrack.

She scented cat. The tommy gun was in her hands and she genuflected, butt naked, one knee up, the other down, as she and Sam listened intently. “Two,” he signaled.

She nodded, mouthing: “Family. Hunting.”

The growling doubled. Long. Deep. Incredibly loud.

Close.

So close she could smell the scent on their hocks. American mountain lions, grew to be 120 pounds or better, had the strongest bite pound for pound of any cat on earth. They probably had their cubs with them, for training, and were just screwing up their courage to come in for a kill.

Sam pointed to the wires.

Has the battery discharged? she signaled.

Don’t know, he signaled shrugging his shoulders.

At that moment, she saw the female lunge forward. Big mountain lion, color of sand, gorgeous huge paws, lean slim physique, beautiful and deadly face with eyes as cold and lovely as moonlight.

Then the lion touched the wires and the battery discharged.

The female screamed, her head momentarily wrapped in sparks. Taxi smelled burning fur. The lot of them bolted, throwing up gravel as they ran scampering and down the mountainside amid clattering rocks.

“Good thing we didn’t have to shoot,” Taxi whispered. Wouldn’t do to alert whoever lived in that compound.

“One good thing,” Sam said grinning. “If there’s lions, there ain’t something worse. Like warbots or flydroids or God knows what.”

“That’s a big good thing,” Taxi agreed. With the battery drained, they had no line of defense. They took turns standing watch the rest of the night.

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