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” “All right, if you say so.” Papa lifted my chin with one hand and carefully inspected my face. I was reminded of how the rider had looked at me in the parking lot of the Last Chance when he’d suspected I was alive rather than dead. “Honey–Ah talked to some people at the garage and bar there and Ah heard some mighty odd things. You went with some fellow named ‘Taker?” “Yes, Papa. That’s him.” I looked around still clinging to my father and nodded at Deadman, who had come towards us and stood a few yards away. “He picked me up at the car.” I saw Papa’s eyes go even narrower as he looked at the rider, an enormous dark figure in his black coat, his unbound hair straggling on his shoulders like stray lamp flames, bandanna over his forehead and his chest half exposed by his open shirt. “You there. Have you been taking good care of this young lady?” “You could put it like that,” said Deadman with a mild sarcastic inflection. “Pleased to meetcha, Pop. Been hearin’ a lot about you.”. Come on. No, no, no. Oh, damn it all!’ Fighting the dead stick, I kept trying to get the damn engine to restart despite knowing it was a lost cause. I had been on fumes and prayers for the last fifteen minutes and the fumes had run out. And while I was praying as hard as ever, the nose of this battered Kittyhawk was growing heavier and heavier. ‘Come on. Crank. Just once more old girl give me a little more.’ With a shake of my head, I tried one last time then gave it up and took the heavy stick in both hands. With nothing but momentum on my side this flying brick was headed to the ground and it was taking me with it. Right into the middle of the Great Western Desert of Egypt. I considered jumping but I dismissed that thought as quickly. I was already too low for my chute to fully deploy. My chances were better riding the plane down, and trying to keep its nose up till the last second. Of course by the time I was making that decision my chances were running out as fast. The weight of.
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