First Date
By C. Mage
Lara picked
up the phone, reached for the keys to dial, then put the phone down again. She stared at the phone in her bedroom for a
few seconds, picked up the receiver, typed in three numbers, then put the
receiver back in the cradle. She picked
it up once again, dialed an international number, let it ring once, then hung
up as if the receiver was a snake that might have bit her.
Oh for
Heaven's SAKE, she chided herself. Just
dial up and ask. You've faced
gun-toting skateboarders, gigantic aliens and wild animals of every
shape...SURELY you can dial a man's phone number and ask him a question!
"Not
when the question is to ask the man for a date," she replied out
loud. Lara Croft didn't know what was
happening to her. What was it about
this man that make me feel like...well, like a prepubescent schoolgirl?? David Connors had been on her thoughts a lot
ever since the spectacle in Belgrade two weeks before, and it bothered her and
thrilled her at the same time. Especially
his last words, about my voice. "My
name is Lara," she said, listening to herself talk. "My name...is Lara Croft..." she
repeated, making her voice sound sultry, then shook her head. She stood up straight and said casually,
"Croft...Lara Croft."
She hung her
head and covered her face with her hands. I'm doomed, she thought.
Just then the
phone rang. Lara pounced on it, then
stopped before picking it up. "Wait a minute, he can't possibly be calling you. You didn't give him your phone
number." She sighed in
disappointment, then chided herself for the emotion, then shook herself
mentally and picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Nice to
hear your voice again."
"David?"
she asked, barely hiding her excitement, then asked in a more serious tone,
"How did you get my number?"
"Well, I
didn't know it was yours at first...but this number kept showing up on my
Caller ID box and I was curious."
I'm
beginning to regret that we made it through the Transistor Age... "Ah, well...ahem, well, David, I've
been a bit busy, but I was wondering..." Lara paused, unconsciously biting her lip.
"Yessss?"
Lara could
practically HEAR the grin on his face. "Well, if you're not too busy, I was wondering if you'd like to go
to see the opening of the Mayan exhibit in New York..."
"Yeah, I
wouldn't mind at all. That might be a
good place to..."
"...with
me..." Lara added, half-hoping he wouldn't notice.
Luck was not
with her that moment. "Why, Miss
Croft....are YOU asking ME out on a DATE?"
"Don't
be absurd!" Lara said, making a desperate bid to regain control. "I was going to be in that area to see
that exhibit and I needed..." Oooh,
bad choice of words! she thought.
"Need?"
"...WOULD
LIKE to have someone who knows the area be my guide while I'm there." She took a quick breath and added
conversationally, "Don't try so hard to be so presumptuous, David."
"Okay,
okay, we'll play it your way."
"So, are
you free this weekend?"
"I'm
available, Lara, but never free. Sure,
I can drive you around. My fee for
being your native guide in this urban jungle will be..."
"FEE!!" Lara nearly hung up on him.
"If
you're going to keep up with this pretense, Lara, I have little choice but to
humor you. Admit it, Lara, you called
to ask me out, didn't you?"
"Don't
be impertinent, David." Lara was
immediately defensive.
"This'd
be our first date."
"No it
won't."
"Our
first night out together."
"No, it
WON'T." The utter GALL of the
man!
"There's
a connection between us."
"No,
there isn't."
"Then
how do you explain how you feel right now, talking to me, hmmm?"
"The
cook must've gotten some bad fish in for lunch," Lara shot back. "Are you going to help me or not? I have other contacts in New York that could
help me out, and not only will they not charge me for the time, they're MUCH
more charming than you are right now."
A pause from
the United States end of the line, then, "Okay, okay, I give. What time is your plane coming in?"
"Eight
sharp your time. British International,
flight 405 from London. DON'T keep me
waiting." Lara hung up and settled
back in her chair. She was relieved
that she'd been able to take control of the conversation back. I'm not COMPLETELY befuddled. Good.
On the other
end of the line, David hung up and filed Lara's home number away for later
reference. "Two days," he
murmured. Did I push her too hard?
he wondered idly. "Oh, get OVER
it, Dave!" he said out loud, standing up and pacing the room. "She's probably got guys lined up out
the door waiting to kiss her little Brit feet! Get your reality check cashed, Dave."
"Sir?" David's secretary buzzed him from the other
room. "Are you alright?"
"Just
talking to myself, Luz!" he called back. "Good Lord, Dave...get ahold of yourself," he muttered.
Yeah,
RIGHT, his mind answered back.
"Luz,
call someplace that rents tuxes. NICE
ones."
"A
formal job, Dave?"
"Yeah." He looked through the pile system on his
desk and dug out his "organizer," marking down on Friday, 'pick up
shrew at airport "8 SHARP" she sez' and tossing the book into a
drawer. "A formal job."
Friday night
found David Connors suffering through New York traffic and wondering if he'd
had enough money in the bank to buy a helicopter. Yeah, right, after that fiasco in Europe, I can't even afford
a helicopter RIDE anywhere. Maybe I
should take Doug's advice and install machineguns just under the headlights... He checked the clock on the dash and
sighed. "Great...well, what's
another rash of moving violations?"
With that, he
gunned the engine and careened off the road to drive on the sidewalk, thanking
the Powers-That-Be that nobody walked in New York anymore. He did manage to scare the bejeesus out of a
couple of panhandlers, though.
"HEY,
YOU IDIOT!! GET OFF THE SIDEWALK!!!"
one of them yelled.
"I
CAN'T! I'M NOT LICENSED TO DRIVE ON THE
STREET ANYMORE!!" David yelled as he crossed to the intersection through a
few parking meters and continued down a side street. Yes, traffic's much lighter here, he observed, turning another
corner and heading for the airport after looking back to see if a policeman had
spotted his maneuver. Satisfied that
none had, he thought, Cop didn't see it, I didn't do it, and entered the
airport parking lot and parked the car in a handicapped space. He got out, walked around to the back and
opened the trunk, taking out a fake handicapped plate with magnetic strips on
the back and slapping it neatly over the real plate. David stood up, looked around nonchalantly to see if a parking
lot attendant had noticed, and went into the terminal.
Lara got off
the plane and walked up the corridor to the gate entrance. She'd heard some stories about how psychotic
the city could be, so she'd dressed in a plain dress designed to downplay her
figure than flatter it, sensible shoes and no jewelry. Her "purse" was little more than
another backpack, one with a special option created by Natla Technologies. It was a capacitor discharge device designed
to electrify the backpack with more than 50,000 volts if it went more than
twelve feet away from the transmitter in her pocket. I'm sure that Miss Natla would be pleased to know that one of
her innovations was helping me to feel more secure, she thought with a smile,
that is, should she ever get unearthed from the mountain that fell on her. Now...where is David? She looked around, a little nervous...and
Lara HATED feeling nervous about anything.
A man with a
sign that said "LARA CROFT" drew her attention and she saw David
walking around, holding it aloft. Lara
was walking over when she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and
struck out with an arm just as a man tried to run off with her backpack. The arm crossed his neckline and he flew
back into one of the chairs surrounding the gate, gasping for breath.
David walked
over. "Welcome to New
York." Damn, she's beautiful, he
caught himself thinking and pushed that thought away...for now.
"I feel
so welcome. Must be something in the
air." She smiled. "I take it you have a limo waiting
outside?"
"I
wish. Come on, Miss Croft. Let's get your luggage."
"I was
expecting your bike, to tell you the truth." Lara looked at the beat-up Bonneville that occupied the parking
space. "And another thing...since
when have you been a handicapped person?"
David
grinned. "Ever since I was
five. I grew up with a deformed set of
ethics." He plucked the fake plate
off and got into the driver's side. Lara got into the shotgun seat, after dusting it off with a hand. "Just brush those off the seat onto the
floor."
"Then
where will I put my feet??" She
looked down at the assorted collection of fast-food wrappers, assorted trash
and a speeding ticket or two. "This car is an utter pigsty!"
"You're
too kind. I thought it was landfill
material, Miss Croft."
"And
another thing..." She was interrupted by the car blasting out of the
parking space and barreling out of the parking garage. "...WATCH THE PEDESTRIAN!!!"
"She
knew the risks she were taking when she starting walking on the street,"
he replied calmly and ignored the obscene gestures the woman was giving him as
he passed. "Besides, I didn't hit
her, did I?"
"I'll
answer that just as soon as I wrench my fingernails from the dashboard,"
Lara gritted. "As I was about to
say before you attempted vehicular homicide, when are you going to stop calling
me Miss Croft?"
"Just as
soon as you stop answering to it."
"Are you
going to be this exasperating on Friday night?"
"Nah. I'm usually too relaxed." David smiled as he bypassed a stop sign without
slowing. "So, Miss Croft, how've
you been?"
Lara scowled
at David, but relented. "I've been
busy...had a few tours to make on the college archaeology circuit, been doing
some writing. And yourself?"
"Three
divorce cases, one thwarted jewel heist, two drug busts, one missing child case
and-a-partridge-in-a-pear-tree," he sing-songed. "I've been pretty busy."
"I
see," Lara said neutrally. She was
looking out the window, watching the world stream by. "What do you think you'll do when you retire?"
"I'll
probably be doing nothing at all. Not
even breathing."
Lara turned
back to give him a look of mixed puzzlement and shock. "Excuse me?"
"This
isn't exactly a Fortune 500 job, you know. I'm lucky to eke out normal expenses every month. I can't afford a pension plan. My only hope is a really big score, and then
maybe I'll retire for a little while...until I get bored outta my
skull." He shrugged. "Then I'll go back to this. Oh, don't look so shocked, Miss Croft. As much as it irks you to consider it,
you're just like me, in that respect. Can you honestly imagine yourself just hanging around your home,
admiring what you've done and reliving your past through your trophies, never
going out and doing the things you did when you were younger?"
Lara
considered giving him a yes...until she realized that thought scared her to
death.
"That'll
never happen to you...you'll still be spraying lead, going into tombs and
crypts while jumping around as if gravity had gone out of style by the time you
reach eighty."
Lara
smiled. "That's what I like about
you, David...you can say the sweetest things to a girl." She looked out the window. "There's my hotel."
"THERE'S
your hotel???" David looked up at
the rising spiral of steel and concrete.
"I
always travel first class, David..." She looked around her seat. "Present situation excepted."
"Oh,
thank you, Miss Croft...you can say the sweetest things to a guy." David stopped the car in front of the
hotel. Lara got out while the valet looked
at David's vehicle as if it were a cockroach trying to climb up his leg.
"See you
tomorrow night, David."
"Hey,
Miss Croft, what say I show you the sights tomorrow? You know, Coney Island, Statue of Liberty, stuff like that?"
"Hmmmmm..." Lara considered. "On one condition."
"Okay,
what is it?"
"Will
you for Heaven's sake STOP calling me 'Miss Croft'? I'm beginning to feel like your high school teacher."
I've got
news for you, lady, Mr. Dolphus never looked like you! "Deal...Lara. I'll pick you up at eleven." He faced forward and drove out of the
parking lot. Lara watched him go,
feeling absurdly happy.
"...bag,
miss?"
"Huh?"
She turned to see the valet looking at her.
"Take
your bag, miss?" The young man
smiled and let his gaze linger over Lara's healthy form.
Lara was
feeling too good to let that bother her the way it usually did. "Yes, you may, and step lively, young
man...I've got a lot to do tonight. And
if you're good, I'll give you a big tip once we get up to my room." She walked ahead of the valet who had
basically found his first good reason to be at work that night. He followed her to the front desk, then up
to her room like a loyal puppy.
After setting
her bag on the bed, he walked up to her, stood only a pace away and asked
slyly, "Now, then, baby...howzabout that tip?"
"Certainly."
The valet
leaned in close...then found that he had leaned too far. In fact, he kept moving forward even though
he didn't want to. He found himself
being turkey-walked to the door and pushed roughly out into the hall. He kept going, even though the strong grip
wasn't there anymore, and smacked into the opposite wall.
As he fell to
the floor and rubbed his nose, Lara leaned out the door and said, "Here's
your tip, dastard...never let your eyes linger too long over a woman's
body. She MIGHT get offended and pound
your pimply face in." She closed
the door with a SLAM and the valet found himself with a need to take a cold
bath. A long one.
The next day,
Lara went through her daily exercise routine. First, gymnastics practice and
free weights in the health spa, then a couple of hours swimming laps in the
pool, much to the delight of many of the male guests and staff. After that, she got ready for David by
selecting a sundress, sandals and a wide-brimmed hat.
Thus armed
for recreation, she went downstairs to meet David.
The first
shock of the day was seeing David drive up to the entrance in a clean version
of his car! Lara walked up to the car
and looked through the spotless windows to see that the inside had not only
been picked up, the vinyl had been cleaned and the floor vacuumed! She looked up at David as he came around to
the passenger's side. "Why,
David...did you go buy a new car for the occasion?"
"Ha ha. I'll have you know that I clean my car like
this on a regular basis."
Lara didn't
believe that for a second. "Of
course." She stepped back as David
came close to her, then opened the car door for her. "You're actually opening the door for me? Who are you and what have you done with the
real David?" she smirked.
"Oh, I
am just wetting my shorts, you are so funny. Will you get in the car already?"
Still
smiling, Lara sat in the shotgun seat and looked around. "I must admit, it's quite a clean-up
job. You must have spent a couple of
hours working on it."
"Not
really..." FOUR hours is more like
it...! David thought.
"Well,
David, I am impressed. What have you
got planned for today?"
"Nothing. We'll just make it up as we go along."
"Sounds
intriguing."
David drove
away, passing a disgruntled valet who watched them leave with venom in his
gaze.
Lara and
David spent the next six hours discovering things about each other.
Their first
stop took them to an art exhibition, which Lara enjoyed more than David
did. While Lara was appreciating the
inspiration behind some of the modern sculptures, David was in the gift shop
looking for something nice to give to Lara ("just a souvenir, that's
all" he kept telling himself). After that, David looked around for a place they'd be able to enjoy
together.
Lara was the
one that found it. "Mind if we go
in there to browse?" she asked, pointing to a store. David looked up at the sign over the door.
MIKE'S
HANDGUNS.
"Sure,"
he said, and they walked in. From that
moment on, everything just clicked for them. After a long time of driving around, wondering how to break the ice,
Lara and David found themselves talking like old friends about a favorite
subject, even getting into a heated discussion about the pros and cons of grain
ratio versus caliber size when it came to stopping power.
"Look,
I'm telling you, the Colt Python has a lot more stopping power than the Uzi,
even on full auto."
"I know
quite a few wolves and alligators who would disagree with you."
"But the
Makarov..."
"Hah! I know...!"
"...Desert
Eagle .50...!"
"...Linebaugh..."
"...Casull
.454...!"
"...charging
lions...!"
"...sharks...!"
"...dynamite...!"
"ENOUGH!"
Lara and
David looked towards the proprietor, a balding man who was clearly losing his
mind. "Yes?" they both asked.
"Would
you mind keeping it down?? You starting
to scare my customers!"
"Oh,
sorry." David blushed a little,
then noticed the clock behind the proprietor. "Lara, you're not going to believe this, but we've got to get going
already, if we're going to make it to the museum opening."
Lara noted
the time on her wristwatch. "Blimey! You're right! Looks like your driving will come in handy
after all." She looked to the
manager. "Thank you for your time,
sir," she said and ran out the door, David close behind.
The manager
noticed his empty store and hoped that business would pick up again soon. "Who do those two think they are,
anyhow...Mr. and Mrs. Indiana Jones??"
After a
breakneck chase and a hastily explained reason for the speed to a polite but
determined police officer, David and Lara arrived at her hotel. "Well, another one bites the
dust," David said, tossing the wadded-up ticket into his back seat.
"Don't you
pay those?"
"Nope. I just go in at night and remove them from
the computer. There's so much paperwork
there that nobody'll look for it and they'll just forget about it It would take far too much effort for them
to look for it...they've got better things to do. Hey, it keeps me on the streets."
"If
that's an attempt to redeem your actions, try again. It condemns more than it exonerates." Lara grinned and left the car. "I'll see you in two hours."
"Okay...but
I've got another surprise for you." Before Lara could ask what the surprise could be, David drove off. She turned and walked back into the
hotel. The valet considered the idea of
paying her back for his embarrassment, but changed his mind when he saw the
name on the shopping bag Lara was carrying into the hotel. As the valet rightly reasoned, Never mess
with a woman carrying guns.
That evening,
a stretch limo drove up to Lara's hotel. The door opened and David stepped out, wearing an expensively rented
tux, complete with double-breasted jacket, spotless shoes and black
cufflinks. He had even styled his hair
and shaved, making him barely recognizable.
Lara watched
him from the balcony, impressed. He had
gone from a generally appealing man with rough edges to someone who looked as
if he could out-Bond 007 himself. He
still had that walk to him, Lara noted with amusement, the walk of a
cowboy. Now it's time for MY
surprise, she thought, taking a deep breath. As she walked to the elevator, Lara did her best to quiet the
nervousness in the pit of her stomach. I
never before understood what people meant by the phrase, "butterflies in
the stomach." Now I
understand...and I wish I didn't.
David paced
the concrete by the limo while the chauffeur read a newspaper inside. Damn, damn, damn....will you fercrissakes
CALM DOWN?! Geez, you're like a virgin
going to a whorehouse...no, wrong analogy to use. WRONG analogy. Lesse...
"David?"
He looked up
and his mouth dropped open. His jaw hit
the concrete, broke through and began drilling for oil. The chauffeur looked up, saw Lara, and
dropped his newspaper.
Lara was
dressed in a stark black evening gown, slit up the left side to the knee and
plain except for a silver sprinkle of stars weaving their way up her side and
front. Her hair was loose and flowing
down her back like an auburn waterfall, the constant braiding turning her
normally straight hair into a smooth wavy cascade down her back. She had touched up her face with some
make-up, but only enough to highlight her features. She also wore an intricate necklace, a ladies' watch, two small
triangular earrings and, to add to the allure, four-inch heels. A delicate purse completed the ensemble.
Lara smiled
edgily and twirled slowly. "What
do you think?"
I'm in
love... David thought, then said sincerely, "You
look....beautiful." The way he
said it made delicious goosebumps cover Lara's arms and legs.
"Thank
you," Lara said, taking in a close look at David. "You look utterly spectacular. Truly transformed. If I'd known you looked this way in a tuxedo, I would've invited
you to a fancy occasion much earlier."
David
blushed, then composed himself. He
swept an arm towards the limousine. "Your chariot awaits without, mademoiselle."
Lara cocked
an eyebrow. "Without what?"
"Without
us if we don't hustle. We're already
late enough as it is!" David
opened the car door and helped Lara in, then got in himself and told the
driver, "The museum, James."
"You
know his name?" Lara asked.
"All
chauffeurs are named James...it's like a law of nature."
The
chauffeur, in a supreme display of professionalism, turned his head away from
Lara Croft and drove the limo away from the hotel. The black car parked in the lot across the street turned its
lights on and followed. Inside, the
driver picked up a radio. "She's
on her way...and she's got somebody with her."
"How
nice. A date." The woman's voice dripped acid and the
driver was suddenly glad that he was miles away. "This gets even better. Call me as soon as they reach the museum."
Lara and
David got out of the limo and walked up the marble steps to the Metropolitan
Museum of History. Banners over the
entrance proclaimed, "THE MYSTERY OF THE MAYANS," in red and black,
with the face of a Mayan statue adorning the standards. David and Lara looked about them, noting all
the cameracrews of the TV stations. "This must be a big event," said David.
"The
exhibits are going to be showing off some of the items I picked up the last
time I was in Central America. Lovely,
fascinating stuff."
"Hence,
your own interest."
"I just
want to see that the exhibits are displayed in the right context, make sure
that their information is correct."
They walked
past an announcer with blonde hair who was saying, "All have gathered
tonight to see the spectacle, including our own Mayor and Police
Commissioner. The event promises to be
one to remember."
Lara
paused. The voice sounded vaguely
familiar. She was about to mention it
to David, then decided against it. After
all, this is my night to enjoy myself. No tombs, no city-sized crypts with wild animals and mummified creatures
stalking me. Just me and David. She smiled and snuggled a little closer to
him. Just David and me. I like the sound of that.
Inside, Lara
and David made the rounds. Actually,
Lara made the rounds, David just stuck by her. She observed some of the speculations made on many of the items in the
exhibits and shook her head. Amazing
how wrong some people could be about archaeology. Let them dodge some booby-traps and lava pits, ask them then
whether or not these tribes were "primitive."
"Lara
Croft?"
She turned as
an older man stepped up to her, smiling. "Yes?"
"Sir
Winston Smythe, Oxford. I've been
reading your work on these exhibits. Remarkable work!" He shook
her hand. "You're a credit to your
profession." He turned to
David. "And who is this
sharply-dressed gentleman?"
"David
Connors."
"Connors...Connors...I
don't recall that name from the Archaeological Registries. What sort of work do you do? Early Persian? Egyptian dynasties?"
"Actually,
I work in areas much more recent."
"Ahh, I
see, a historian...of what century?"
"This
one."
"Sir
Winston, I hate to dash, but I've got to speak to a couple of the curators, so,
if you'll pardon us...!" Lara
steered David away. "A 'recent
events historian'?"
"Sure. As recent as yesterday. I go through a lot of people's garbage to
find out info I need to know about them. You'd be surprised what you can find out about a person's history by
their leavings, even if it isn't from some ancient culture."
Lara
chuckled. "Too true, too
true. If you'll pardon me, David, I'm
off to the loo. I'll be right
back...don't go away."
"Alright,
I'll just hang around and try to look intellectual."
"Don't
sprain anything." She squeezed his
hand and moved towards the restrooms. David watched her go until he lost sight of her among the throng of
guests, then decided to see what the press were saying. As he was walking up, his cellular phone
rang and he picked it up quickly.
"What is
it?" he whispered.
"Dave,
this is Mike, over at Channel Twelve."
"Mike,
this is not the time. I'm off
duty."
"Are you
at the Museum?"
"Yeah,
remember, I told you, I was taking tonight off to get here, why?"
"We just
got a call from one of our reporters. He told me that he and his crew were waylaid on the way there and some
people stole his van and equipment. They took them to a warehouse and tied them up there."
David looked
up. "Mike, this is not funny. I can see your guys in the media pit, with
all the others."
"Dave,
something screwy is going on."
"Tell me
about it. Our guy says that all the
other reporters assigned to the Museum tonight WERE ALL THERE AT THE
WAREHOUSE."
David stopped,
then looked up at the reporters. "They're not here??"
"No!"
"You're
right, something IS..."
Machinegun
fire startled David out of his conversation and he looked up to see that the
cameracrews and reporters weren't carrying microphones and cameras
anymore. Every single one now carried a
submachinegun!
When the
firing stopped and all the security guards were subdued, the blonde reporter
called out, "NOBODY TRIES ANYTHING FUNNY AND YOU WILL ALL GET TO
LIVE. IF ONE PERSON TRIES TO BE A HERO,
EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU WILL DIE!!"
Lara Croft
had just finished washing her hands when she heard the gunfire outside. She was alone in the restroom, so nobody saw
her pull up the hem of her gown and reach between her legs to pull out a slim
machine pistol and a long clip. She
slapped the clip into the butt of the weapon and pulled the hammer back,
wondering, What the blazes is going on???
She opened up
the door a crack and saw the blonde on the main podium take the
microphone. When she gave her statement
to the prisoners, a chord was struck in Lara's mind. NO...it can't be!! Not
here, not now!!
David stuck
the phone in his inside pocket as the blonde barked into a radio, "Seal
the doors. No one goes in or
out." Then she looked down at the
audience. "Now then...first off,
which one of you is David Connors?"
David didn't
move a muscle.
"David
Connors, if you do not identify yourself at the count of five," she
commanded, reaching down into a case and pulling out a strange, wide-barreled
weapon. The woman pointed it at a
statue and fired, sending a fireball a foot in diameter at the statue's head,
vaporizing it with a loud BOOM!!! She
looked down at the terrified crowd once again, aiming the weapon at them,
continuing, "Ten people will die. One...two...three..."
"Hold
it."
The blonde
looked down as David moved through the crowd towards the podium. The "reporters" kept their guns
trained on him as he climbed up and stopped at the edge.
"I'm
David Connors. Who the hell are you?"
The crowd
held its breath at David's words, fearing retribution. The woman looked at him, then laughed, a
bold, strong laugh tinged with insanity. "I'll tell you who I am." She reached up and pulled at her chin. Part of her face came away, then the whole thing stretched and ripped as
the blonde pulled the attractive facade away to reveal a scarred face
beneath. It was a beautiful face once,
but it was scarred and pitted now...and that face came close to David's
own. He didn't flinch as she hissed,
red bat wings unfurling from under her clothes, "MY NAME....IS NATLA. JACQUELINE NATLA."
Lara moved
back into the restroom, a cold hand around her heart. I don't believe it! A
blasted PYRAMID fell on her!
That cold
hand squeezed tighter as she heard Natla yell, "IF YOU DON'T COME ON OUT
IN THE NEXT SIXTY SECONDS, YOUR BOY DAVID IS GOING TO KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE
TO FEEL BURNED ALIVE!!!"
