G-8 #13 The Spider Staffel by Robert J. Hogan

Author:Robert J. Hogan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9: The Living Corpse

A RICH, Irish accent came booming from the seat of the truck. “Is this the residence of Mr. G-8? I was after passin’ the field and a couple of birds stopped me and asked me if I had a dead man aboard, and I comes back with sure and if you don’t be gettin’ out of me way there’ll be two more dead ones in the road, so there will and —” G-8 chuckled. “This is the place all right. Drive the truck and unload it in the storage end of the hangar. That’s at the other end.” “It’s O.K. by me, just so I get the load off. It ain’t so companionable, this dead Heinie a-lyin’ out back of me and gruntin’ every time I go over a jounce.” He seemed about to drive on and then he stuck his head out of the side again. “Say, if I ain’t askin’ too many questions, what are yuh goin’ to do with a dead Heinie in a hangar at this hour of the night? Because if you’re goin’ to have a wake, maybe I’d stay and sit in with yuh. I’m strong for wakes, I am. But not alone in the dark. Ha-ha.” Then the truck rumbled off and rounded the end of the hangar. G-8 came in, laughing, and closed the door. “There’s a card,” he chuckled. “Boy would he make things hum around here. Get that wild Irishman and Battle together and you wouldn’t have time to think of any troubles.” At that Battle appeared blinking, in nightgown and bare feet. “Begging your pardon, sir, but did you call, sir?” G-8 turned and shot a glance at Battle. He chuckled. “I didn’t call you but I was going to shortly,” he said. “You might as well stay up now. But put something over that night shirt before I go into convulsions.” Battle retreated a step or so. G-8 walked across toward the hangar door end of the living room, and Battle bowed again. “Er, begging your pardon again, sir,” he said, “but are you about to sally forth again tonight, as it were?” “Yes, Battle,” G-8 replied. “I’m sallying again tonight. I want you to make me up to look like a dead man.” “A — a dead man, sir,” Battle blurted, “You mean you want me to shoot you, sir? Really, that’s a bit out of my line you know but —” Nippy howled and rolled over the arm of the chair where he was perched. Bull laughed with a rumbling sound deep down in his heavy throat. “No,” G-8 shouted. “I don’t want to be shot, Battle.” “Yes, indeed, sir,” Battle said hastily. “Perhaps then you’d like to be half-shot. Ha-ha-ha.” “Battle,” G-8 choked. “I’m surprised at you.”

“I — I must confess,” he said proudly, “I’m a bit surprised at myself, sir.” “Listen,” G-8 said. “I want to be made up to resemble a dead man. Get the idea. But I have a very strong desire to keep right on living.

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