A Very Strange Trip by Dave Wolverton

Author:Dave Wolverton [Wolverton, Dave]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction, Adventure, Action & Adventure, Time Travel, High Tech, Favorites, Need to Read, Science Fiction Adventure, Science Fiction - High Tech
ISBN: 9781573181648
Publisher: Bridge Pubns
Published: 1999-05-15T06:00:00+00:00

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

A grenade exploded, throwing up dirt and rocks. The shield men held steady, as if they'd faced things

more frightening than grenades.

Bear Tail took aim with the black tube.

"No!" Dumphee shouted, trying to pull it from her grasp. Given her stance, if she was holding the

weapon backward, the tube would fire into the truck.

The tube discharged into the air.

In the dawn sky a single rocket arced skyward in a streak of red, going up and up. It popped loudly,

and the sky filled with a shimmering image: an enormous American flag with the sickle and hammer where

the stars should have been. The flag could not have been less than five hundred yards long. A bear ran

across the face of it, chasing Ronald Reagan. From the sky, the strains of a brass band began playing the

"Star-Spangled Banner"' while an announcer with a heavy Russian accent said, "Throw down your

weapons, running-dog capitalists!"

Everywhere, the Mayans stood gaping at the celestial image. Troops who had seemed supremely

confident and well trained under gunfire now began to toss down their shields and weapons, prostrating

themselves, crying out in prayer.

Lotsa Smoke jumped onto the hood of the ATV and began shouting at the men in Mohawk or some

other Indian language, thumping her chest and making slashing motions with her huge knife. Dumphee had

an idea what she was telling them; the last word she shouted was "Manitou! Manitou! Manitou!"

As music played and the scintillating flag colored the sky, the Mayans began to moan, crawling toward

the truck with heads bowed. With each little crawling motion, they banged their heads on the ground.

Their moans became a song, a communal gasp, as they inched forward on their bellies. Yet none dared

look at Dumphee or the squaws or the truck; none of them dared behold him.

"What did you tell them?" Dumphee shouted at Lotsa Smoke.

"That you God!" Lotsa Smoke giggled.

Pretty Rose grumbled, "Well, he good in bed, but he not a God."

"Great;' Dumphee said in disgust. "That's just great."

From out of the fortress, the priests and slaves and guards now issued. Their great chief, ringed in

torchlight, strode forward. He wore a robe of ermine over his shoulders, as white as his own long hair,

and he held a scepter of silver inlaid with turquoise, with knots of white feathers on its head. His

headdress appeared to be aspen bark wrapped around a clump of white egret feathers. Golden rings

glittered at his fingers and his nose, while gold shone dully from heavy chains around his neck. His face

was a mask of tattoos-brilliant whites and yellows, with an image of a rayed sun on his forehead.

At his side several noblemen or counselors were dressed in robes of bright green parrot feathers that

had to have been imported thousands of miles. Each counselor wore little breastplates of gold, and their

clean-shaven heads were marked with detailed and magnificent tattoos. Beads of pink shell glittered at

their wrists.

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