Never Split the Party by Ramy Vance & Michael Anderle

Author:Ramy Vance & Michael Anderle [Vance, Ramy & Anderle, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642023978
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2019-08-03T22:00:00+00:00

15

Suzuki woke in an unfamiliar bed.

The sheets were rough and hardly covered his body. He sat up, his eyes searching the room, trying to make sense of where he was.

Stew was laying in the other bed in the room, and Sandy leaned against the foot of the same bed, passed out and snoring loudly.

Suzuki grabbed his head. He had a headache, and he groaned as he tried to gather his bearings.

This was Middang3ard, he reminded himself. Suzuki checked the window. He was still in a muddy marshland. It as most definitely still Middang3ard.

Suzuki turned around and froze.

There was a shadowy figure standing in the threshold of the doorway. Suzuki scanned the room for a weapon. Then he remembered where he was. He hit his HUD, and his armor rolled over his body. His sword and shield materialized in his hands.

The shadowy figure walked forward to the sound of clucking chickens. Once he entered the light, Suzuki could see that it was Milos, and he was holding two chickens.

The dwarf held out the chickens and smiled, “What’s with the sword?”

“What’s with the chickens?” Suzuki countered as he sheathed his sword.

Milos walked farther into the room and stopped to chuckle as he looked at Stew and Sandy. “Looks like they had a great night. I don’t usually see humans drink nearly as much as you three did. Looks like you can handle your booze well enough.”

“On Earth, gin and tonics aren’t anything to mess around with.”

“I’ll have to visit sometime. After the damned war is over. Which chicken do you like more?”

Milos held up the chickens to Suzuki. They both looked like fairly regular chickens, although much larger than any chickens he’d seen before. One was a speckled brown color, and the other was a glossy, pure white.

Suzuki pointed to the white one. “I guess that’s more of a classical looking chicken,” Suzuki said. “Kind of like the ideal of a chicken.”

“Whatever you say.” Milos released the brown chicken. Then he took out a long knife and placed the white chicken on one of the desks in the room. He held the chicken down and chopped through its neck. He tossed the chicken head and the chicken on the ground.

Suzuki jumped back as his eyes zeroed in on the splatter of chicken blood on the wall. “What the hell are you doing?”

The dead chicken was running around the room. It tripped over its own head and skidded across the floor, still kicking its legs in the air.

Milos stepped over the chicken and went to the fireplace in the room. He shifted through the pantry next to the fireplace and pulled out a pot.

“I thought humans like breakfast in bed,” the dwarf mumbled as he looked for other cooking tools. “I heard it was considered romantic to most of ‘em. Not that I’m trying to romance you. You ain’t my type. But hospitality is hospitality as far as I’m concerned.”

Stew cracked his eyes open as he rolled over and pulled the covers up to his face.

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