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slumped up against the wall and protested that she couldn't go any further. |
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It took some fancy footwork, but I managed to maneuver between the two rooms and set her down on her bed. She did the rest on her own. Rolling to one side, then curling her legs up and under her, she twisted herself up into a tight little ball, and I covered her up. |
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Back in my own room, I turned on the light on my dresser and began to peel out of my damp clothing. I was again berating myself for leaving my prized survival kit in the Z. Twice in one day was proof that I was getting careless. I whipped out a blank file card and scratched out the word KIT in big bold letters with a felt tip. Cosmo was right; senility is a bitch. |
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Everything I needed was stowed in that damn kit behind the driver's seat in the Z. The momentary reflection on the kit set me to thinking about the antique Mauser that Papa Coop had given me the night we celebrated selling my first novel. It was intended to be a trophy. Instead, it had become the cornerstone of my now famous survival kit. The Mauser had swung the argument in my favor more than once. |
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A hot shower had the effect of partially invigorating me, and I meandered out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me. I glanced at my watch. It was almost midnight, too late to catch the news and too |
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