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As she reached toward him with the change, her arm dipped and her hand rested for a moment on his palm. "Thanks, Willow. Have to run." "Bye." He was out the door and into an old blue pickup before she could think of anything else to say. It wasn't me, she thought. I didn't do that. It was my arm, like a damned dowsing rod. Two guys came in for coffee and bagels.
Barney bent down and picked a tiny metallic fragment from the pavement. He stared at it and then tapped Johnny on the arm and handed it to him, wordlessly. It was a twisted piece of body steel, bright at its torn edges and coated with the scarlet enamel that had been the color of the Circle T pickup. Johnny's eyes filled with tears and he shoved the little scrap of metal in his pocket.
When it hits the fan "Truth is the only safe ground to stand on." Elizabeth Cady Stanton When Prof. Sigger found himself standing three miles outside of town on County Highway A, he was, to say the least, chagrined. He tried thumbing a ride from a couple in a pickup, but no luck. They were too busy necking. One of them, however, did throw an empty beer can to him.
"Not too far off our course," Willis commented. "What about it, Ranger? Should we make the pickup?" "Why not?" Tarlac agreed. "A few hours' delay won't matter, and as I recall, we're the closest ship." "Right, sir." Willis turned her attention to her officers. "Lieutenant Matthews, inform the Palace and Fleet HQ about the change in flight plan.
Montgomery stooped to pickup the ball of yarn that had rolled under her chair, and her husband went towards the door as if to depart. "I tell you what it is, William, Matilda Verne is my own sister, but it grieves me to think so. Talk of pride or dignity. She has none. Pride yes, a nice kind of pride that lives on lies and falsities of every description!
A small geyser of white fluid shot out of the drum as she hit another bump and then the pickup went jolting down the ranch road, little splashes of Sally's milk sloshing out with each bump and forming a pool on the bottom of the truck. When Hetty cowboyed onto the county road, the drum tipped dangerously and then bounced back onto its base.
"What we need," he told her, "is a big TV-screen, and a pickup mounted on some sort of a contragravity vehicle at about two to five thousand feet directly overhead, to give us an image of the whole area. Can do?" "Can try, sir. We have an eight-foot circular screen that ought to do all right for two thousand feet. I'll implement that at once."
There was no jungle visible when the view changed; nothing but clusters of steel towers and platforms and buildings that marked conveyer heads, and a large rectangle of red-and-white antigrav-buoys moored to warn air traffic out of the area being boomeranged. The pickup seemed to be pointed downward from the bow of an airboat circling at about ten thousand feet.
She jammed a man's old felt hat on her head and left the house. Barney was unloading the last of the supplies Johnny had brought from Carson in the truck. Hetty shielded her eyes against the metallic glare of the afternoon sun. "Gettin' pretty dry, Barney. Throw some salt blocks in the pickup and I'll run them down to the south pasture and see if the pumps need to be turned on.
He raised a shushing hand. "Get a silhouette?" he asked. His hands went to a set of control switches and stayed there. "No. Pickup shows a haze like in the reconstruct." An instant's pause. "Leaving B section." "Motion in C section," said another voice. Quillan said, "All right. It's coming. No more verbal reports unless it changes direction.
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