Part 3
Kylie sighed and shook her head at Burt again. Over lunch Burt had explained that the "Basset Method" was named after Earl Basset, one of the survivors of the original graboid incursion of 1989, rather than the Basset Hound. Somehow, it involved toy trucks, which were the items he'd brought wrapped in the tarp, and C-4, which he'd brought in the ammo box. Interesting as that lesson had been, it didn't surprise her as much as what had happened after they'd finished eating.
When Kylie laid back to rest her head on her backpack and continue their discussion from a more comfortable position, Burt had rolled up his own bag and laid on it. She hadn't thought much of it until, after she'd made some particularly provoking comment about the Old West, Burt hadn't replied. She'd rolled over and looked at him for some kind of reaction just in time to hear a snore.
She rested her head on her arm, watching him. Burt just didn't seem the type of man who could fall asleep at the drop of a hat. And certainly not out here in the open, when there were people around. She knew she could fall asleep standing up in a terminal at LAX, but Burt? He must be working harder than she thought. Maybe all the time he'd spent with her lately had interrupted his usual, top secret work and he had to stay up all night trying to catch up.
This, of course, brought her to wondering what kind of top secret projects Burt had that were too secret to tell her about. Considering the little she knew of him, it could be anything. Definitely some kind of improved shrieker defense system, or some kind of assblaster radar...
She closed her eyes, letting her mind wander over what kind of projects Burt could be involved in, going down ever more improbable paths, when a thought suddenly struck her and her eyes flew open.
It was hot.
There was water.
She should be in it.
Eyeing Burt warily, she got to her feet and went to the closest path.
Kylie just floated, arms outstretched, letting her legs rise or sink with whatever current the occasional breeze stirred up. She let both mind and body relax as the sun beat down on her closed eyes. The water felt so good against her skin. She'd come to love the desert in the last two months, but something about immersing her whole body in water always renewed her spirit. She smiled, and let herself sink below the surface again, imagining the whole world away and she was all that was left...
Suddenly, she felt something wrap around her leg. She fought her way to the surface, screaming, pulling against the tentacle of whatever creature had her leg. She thought she got away, but it grabbed for her again. Remembering she'd kept her knife with her, she pulled it from the sheath on her leg and slashed at the underwater beast. She hacked at it two more times and it let go, floating limply to the surface. She hastily backed away, splashing water at the creature to move it away from her.
Then she got a good look at it.
"Ah, the vicious clinging vine, we meet again." She giggled and picked it up with her free hand.
"What the hell are you doing?" Burt shouted from the shore.
She whirled, then hastily sank back into the water when she realized that she wasn't quite at the deepest part of the pond.
Burt stood, watchful, with the Eagle in his hand, scanning the area for a target.
"Uh..." Kylie looked around for inspiration. "Swimming?"
Burt was still on alert, looking for the threat. "Why did you scream?" he demanded.
Kylie held up the vine, laughing. "It's okay, I killed it." Then she held up the knife with her other hand. "Good thing I brought my knife. Looks like a tough little monster." She laughed again.
He didn't. "Well get out of there," he said, holstering the Eagle reluctantly.
"Do I have to?" she asked, hesitant.
"Yes," he answered emphatically, still searching for danger.
"O-kay," she said and started for shore.
Burt looked up as Kylie started splashing toward him and caught a glimpse of her just as the water uncovered her breasts. He turned hastily. Now he had an accurate visual for those dreams he kept having. "Where the hell are your clothes?" he demanded over his shoulder.
"Over there," she said.
"Over--" He almost turned to see where she was pointing, but realized his mistake and snapped his face forward.
"You don't think I'd want to get my clothes all wet, do you?"
He heard her splashing stop and knew she was out of the water. He listened to the water dropping from her and got a clear mental image of the water sluicing off her naked body to the ground. He held himself rigidly, looking away. "You shouldn't have gone in the water," he said tightly.
"But it was hot, Burt," she complained.
Her voice came from directly behind him. If he turned, he'd be able to touch her. All of her. He closed his eyes, swallowing. "Will you get your clothes on?" he demanded.
"They're right there Burt. Do you want me to go get them?"
He saw her hand appear beside him, pointing to a bush at the edge of the clearing. They hung there, almost artistically. He noticed her underwear was red this time. Perfect, he thought, another visual for those dreams. "At least they're off the ground," he grumbled, trying to remain coherent. "You haven't forgotten everything I taught you."
"O-kay," she said. "I'll just be getting my clothes then..." she started moving around him.
He fled, the sound of her laughter following him back to the clearing. Exasperating woman!
He heard her moving through the bushes and determinedly turned away. He was afraid of what she would be wearing--or not wearing.
"It's okay, Burt, I'm covered," she said. He could hear the laughter in her voice.
He turned slowly, to find that she was dressed, lacking only her boots. Her toenails were painted green, he noticed. She sat down, taking her comb out of her backpack, and started combing her hair.
"Next time," she said, "I'm bringing a towel."
"There won't be a next time," Burt insisted. "What a harebrained thing to do! This is Perfection! Anything could have happened."
"But Burt," she said, her voice full of exaggerated innocence. "You told me it was safe."
He stared at her--he had told her that. "But I didn't mean--"
"Besides," she continued, "I had my knife." She patted the holster with the knife he'd given her attached.
He frowned at her, puzzled. "You wore your gun?"
She actually stuck her tongue out at him. "No, silly. Just the part with the knife." She demonstrated sliding off the gun holster from the belt.
This conjured a mental image of her wearing nothing but the belt with the knife strapped to her leg. He resolutely put it out of his mind. He was in for another sleepless night, he knew. "I still cannot believe you went swimming in a body of water you knew nothing about."
"You said it was safe, Burt."
"Be that as it may, you should learn to be more aware of your surroundings. Anything could have happened. You need to be constantly on your guard--"
"You were asleep," she pointed out.
An expression of pure chagrin settled over his face.
She laughed. "Score one for me." He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand. "I promise I won't go swimming there again."
He nodded. "That's--"
"Unless you're there to guard me," she continued with an impish grin.
He gave her That Look again.
"I'll bring a suit next time," she promised.
He continued to glare at her.
"You can bring one too," she assured him.