Free Tom Swift and His Dyna-4 Capsule by Victor Appleton II Page A

desert that was Friendly Village.
    "Oh," she said almost tearfully, pulling herself— pushing herself—away. "Bud... Oh Bud . Everything, everything got so twisted."
    "What did Baxx do to you, Reb?"
    They sat on the steps side by side. "I’m here. That’s what he did."
    "He didn’t hurt you?"
    "This is hurt."
    "Well," said Bud Barclay. "You wanted to talk to me in a private place."
    "I didn’t want this. Believe me."
    "I make a point of trusting Goths. Those little pins can be dangerous."
    " Goth ?" she snapped back in a sudden change of mood. "Right. You wouldn’t bother to know the difference between Goth and Emo . You, you revel in your ignorance."
    "Sorry. Don’t pop your pins. So the look is, er, Emo?"
    "Of course not! This is New Goth." Click. "I’m sorry. Forgive me. You gotta forgive as you go through life, Bud. Not that people deserve it..."
    Bud spoke firmly. "Can we stow the baggage? How about telling me what happened and why you and I are having ‘intimacy face time’ in Nifty-Fiftiesville?—I was there in that little shopping plaza, Reb, just as you wanted. I waited."
    "He told me," Reb nodded. "I was so stupid, Bud. I needed, after you—but I forgive you—a grownup in my life. He told me he loved me. Seemed to understand. I thought he would take care of me..."
    Bud snorted. "Jetz, that grungy skateboard jockey?"
    Rose Reb frowned harshly. "Right, unlike Spaceman Junior, running off to find a playmate and fly to—" Click. "He works in a hospital."
    "Is that where you met him?" asked the San Franciscan gently—but with meaning.
    "That’s... right," she sighed. "My parents—Mr. and Mrs. Alva Truncheon—ended up warehousing me. Money’ll buy you anything.
    "I believed Garton, what he said. Just words, but I had to believe. It’s part of the healing process, having a reality again. He—got me out. We planned the wedding. I was stupid..." She looked at Bud earnestly. "Really, I think maybe I was over-medicated."
    "Maybe so."
    "Gar told me I’d never get on with life, with him, unless I swept you off my deck, over the edge. See what I mean? Start off with clarity . He said I should go to Shopton, confront you, work off my anger...
    "But I see now that he’s not fully qualified to give that kind of professional guidance. He was just a guy in white, an attendant—a guard. And I just got worse, seeing you, following you, breaking in and leaving notes. And that paint!—though really, it felt kinda good, Bud."
    "Really?"
    "By the way, what did you think of the Grand Canyon?"
    Bud groaned inwardly. Yep, this was Rose Reb. "I found it a little overrated."
    "Let’s not talk about that. Your vacation with— Tom ." She spat the young inventor’s name. "Tom and time. I hate both of them!—hate thinking about them. This—" She flung a gesture of broad scope. " This is Time. It’s all Time. Time snatches things away. And then brings them back on the tide. Me and you..."
    "Reb," Bud interrupted, "just tell me what happened. What’s this place about? Why are we—"
    "Oh, that’s right, you’re in a hurry . It’d never occur to you to stop and sniff the road not taken.
    "Fine.
    "I did lie to you, but it was for the best. The idea was for Gar to meet you first, to talk to you and calm you down."
    "I didn’t really need calming."
    "Have to get in some digs, hm. Go ahead, throw more thorns on my brow. Enjoy!" Click. "I trusted him. He’s so wise and masculine. I’m not impugning your masculinity, Bud, though I know you can cry. Seeing you crying!—that was one of the only two things I liked about PS-1. That and reading Silas Marner .
    "Well... well, the plan was for me to wait for you both at the restaurant. When he showed up... Please believe me, I was really surprised, Bud, finding you lying in the back of his van."
    "Unconscious."
    "Pretty much. He tied your wrists, too. That glove... I never knew. He never used it on me —I can say that about him."
    "I’m sure he had a great explanation."
    "He