Bones of my Father Read Online Free Page B

hint of awe in her voice. “Might not even scar, by the looks of things.”
    “Most of the shot had been absorbed by the ablative qualities of the enviro-suit and the exoskeleton,” I said with a smile. “Plus, I heal fast.” I had been modified over the years for more than longevity. Thanks, Mom! I healed at an insane rate. Needed to consume huge amount of calories, however.
    “Plane’s east of your position about three klicks,” Grandpa said in my ear. “Femme-Bots are getting an upper hand on the vermin, so you have a decent shot of making it.”
    “And Dad’s head?”
    “That silly robot head?” Magenta asked me.
    I nodded slowly. “Yes. It belongs to my dad. I’d really like it back.”
    “Oh.” She poked her head around the edge of the wall and pointed to a small pile of crates. “It’s in a crate. Big Bertha said we could retrieve the memories with the right equipment.”
    “I got a load of crates on a flatbed truck south of your position about sixty yards,” Grandpa informed me. “Battle has moved past that point. It’s now no-man’s land. If the chickees survive this attack, they’ll be carting your father’s head back to Portland.”
    I was glad Magenta couldn’t hear his side of the conversation.
    “Great,” I said, looking around for things that wanted to kill me. “Got it. We cut past the line of battle to get his head in a stack of crates, open it and make for the plane?”
    “I could just drive the truck,” Magenta said to me with a smile.
    “She sounds like a keeper,” Grandpa said, his inflection all grin and smarm.
    “You can drive?” I asked. “You’re amazing.” I may have sounded a little too eager. Grandpa made puking sounds in my ear.
    “You up for a run?” I asked. She squeezed my hand and nodded.
    We ran.
    As we cleared the side of the box store, we could see the aftermath of one battle. Broken women, discarded wigs, and dozens of rats, some topping four feet in length, lay scattered across an open square. Magenta started to slow, but I pulled her hand and she turned away with a sob.
    I could feel the pressure of the sky pressing down on my head and the panic began to swell up from my belly. No magic juice to hold back the terror this time. A wall loomed to the front and left of us. I steered us in that direction. It seemed to be away from the noise of battle, but I just needed something to lean against for a moment or I was going to drop and curl into a ball.
    The cold of the brick sent a wave of goose flesh over my body, but the roughness of the surface held my attention long enough to center my brain. Magenta squatted to my left, breathing hard, and clutching the pistol. I squeezed my eyes shut for almost a full minute before my equilibrium settled.
    When I opened my eyes, Magenta had her wig cocked to the side, scratching her scalp as she watched the horizon. It made me smile for some reason.
    “Almost ready,” I whispered, hunkering down beside her. I flipped the satchel around to sit on the ground in front of me and opened the top. I pulled out a bar of chocolate, snapped it in half and handed Magenta her share. I took a bite and chewed slowly. I could feel the calories flooding my body.
    She sniffed it and lightly touched her tongue to the dark square. For a moment, doubt filled her eyes, but she looked at me and I nodded.
    “If you hold a piece of it in your mouth, it will melt,” I told her, mindful of her poor dental hygiene.
    The tiny corner disappeared into her mouth, but was quickly followed by the rest, as she crammed the whole thing into her maw.
    “Careful, there,” I said, patting her on the shoulder. “Don’t choke.”
    Like the pheromones I carried, the chocolate had a distinct purpose, and scent. I had not realized how sensitive the rodent family was to smells. But, the waft of chocolate must have been strong enough to alert the hunting pair of big-and-furries because before I had finished my piece, a roar erupted from our left, and