L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future Volume 39 by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: SF and Fantasy anthology
Publisher: Galaxy Press
Published: 2023-02-16T21:54:33+00:00

VI

* * *

I couldn’t do this alone. After rushing back to the office, I rounded up Robin, who was now armed with all the paperwork she had filed—as well as an emergency protective order she had just received from Judge Hawkins. That would help poor Syl even more than his Amulet of Importance.

As we set off for the salamander hovel in the mudflats, Sheyenne demanded to go along. And since Alvina was not technically able to stay by herself (and it was far too late to get an emergency babysitter), my half-daughter tagged along as well, even though sinister swamps and fire dragons and abusive amphibious fathers weren’t exactly the best things for a little kid to be exposed to. She promised to take pictures for her Monstagram and SickTok accounts.

When we got to the barrow-shaped hovel, it was clear we had found the right place. On the ground, the slurry of stagnant water and brown ooze bubbled like volcanic mud pots. The air sparkled and flashed overhead, manifesting just a hint of the fire dragon. Alvina looked up at the light show and grinned with fascination.

With her ghostly speed, Sheyenne drifted ahead of us. “Hurry Beaux!” she called back. “I hear shouting! I don’t want Syl to get hurt.”

Robin stalked forward, clutching the legal briefcase against her side. “That Neb Salamander is going to be in more trouble than he can imagine. We’ll sue every last spot off him.”

A geyser erupted in the mudflat, and sulfurous steam hissed out. The fiery dragon flickered in the air again. We reached the round door set into the grass-covered mound just as another mud pot burbled open and swallowed the broken old wheelbarrow propped on cinderblocks.

Behind the sealed round door, Robin and I could hear shouting. “Get to your room, you worthless slimy son of a—”

I pounded on the door. “Neb, open up! Zombie detective!” It wasn’t as intimidating as yelling “Police!” but at least he would know we weren’t door-to-door salespeople.

The shouting stopped, and I heard squishy sounds approaching. Robin opened her briefcase and pulled out the legal document, holding it like a battle-ax.

The round door swung inward and we could see the dank, muddy tunnels inside. “What do you want?” Neb demanded. He still wore the same old bib overalls.

“This is a legal decree.” Robin thrust the protective order forward. “Your son Syl has requested emancipation from you. He is to be cut loose immediately. You no longer have any parental rights.”

“Emancipation!” Neb growled. “That’s too damn many syllables. Let me see that.” He grabbed the document out of Robin’s hands, leaving slimy prints on the paper.

“We also have it digitally recorded,” Sheyenne added.

From the back of the tunnel, Syl slunk forward. Seeing us, he seemed to find inner self-confidence. “I hired them, Pa, because I don’t want to live with you anymore. You don’t treat me right. I’m my own person.”

Neb crumpled the emancipation decree and threw it into the mud outside. “I am his guardian. He’s mine to do with as I please.

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