Trowa hauled Wufei across the parking lot to the SUV. “Stop arguing with me; you’re coming, and that’s final.”
Wufei spluttered angrily, but didn’t try to pull away. “I don’t want to! The kits will climb all over me! Cathy will glare at me! That young female – Suzette – will try to climb into my lap!”
“And you’ll handle it fine; just like you always do. Stop fussing. You need a few days away; you’re getting all crusty again. If you pick another fight with Heero, he really will make sushi of you.” He opened the passenger door and almost tossed Wufei into the seat. “Besides, it’s Q’s order.”
Damn. He couldn’t argue with that. Well, he could, but the Wizard would just smile gently and whisk him back into this seat with a flick of his wand. And probably make the seat hang onto him, as well.
He huffed and folded his arms over his chest, glowering at the dash as Trowa climbed into the driver’s seat.
Trowa gave him a Look. “Seatbelt.”
He huffed again, but fastened the harness.
Trowa cast discreet glances at the cranky Were-Dragon all during the drive. Wufei stared out the window, making occasional irritated noises. If Trowa thought he would really hate this trip, he wouldn’t have insisted on it, but Wufei generally had to be dragged kicking and screaming into anything he hadn’t thought of himself. Given a few hours and some of the lavish meals the Clan served, and Wufei would be his snarky self again.
Trowa rubbed his hands over the steering wheel. Wufei deserved a weekend away. He’d had a difficult week; well, two weeks, actually. First dealing with the idiot demon Farquahar, and arguing with Zephyrus, then Heero… Okay, the latter two were Wufei’s own fault, but still it was stressful. And Rowdy was hanging about, insisting on hearing the story over and over… Much as he adored his younger cousin, Trowa really thought Rowdy needed to stop fawning. Fish every night for four days was overkill. And Rigel had showed up over the weekend, necessitating another round of details. Rigel… Well, Rigel he didn’t much want to think about… Showing up with half a damn tuna and a fucking 2-liter bottle of sake! The Wyvern ended up sleeping on their sofa that night, and Trowa made damn sure he stayed on that sofa all night.
Not that he was… jealous. That was ridiculous! It was great that Wufei was making friends with people outside the Castle. It was just that sometimes Wufei did things without thinking, especially when he was angry or upset. As his best friend, it was Trowa’s duty to make sure that Wufei didn’t get misunderstood or dragged into things or hurt… That’s all it was. Wufei was still working on his anger and his exheredation issues and was sometimes careless of himself as a consequence of his guilt over both things. The Were-Puma nodded minutely. He’d looked it up online at one of the psychology websites, since Wufei wouldn’t talk to him about it; most of the opinions were clear that Wufei had to work these things out in his own mind. Didn’t mean Trowa couldn’t watch his back while he did, though… That’s all he was doing; just watching over a friend until he was better able to watch over himself.
Satisfied with his motives in this particular Dragon-napping, he began to purr softly.
Wufei’s eyes slid over to regard the smiling Were-Puma. Rotten cat. He didn’t need a damn ‘vacation’, especially one that involved being in the middle of a bunch of the damn rotten cats. He sighed silently. Then again… Heero was still being narrow-eyed and glary. It wasn’t generally a good thing to be around him when he was like that. Duo had made a point since Tuesday to keep Heero’s attention away from everyone else while he wound down.
And the Wyvern had apologized, in his own fashion, on Wednesday when Wufei was finally able to return to the office. That obliged Wufei to make his own apology for poking in the first place, which made him grumpy, but he managed to keep that to himself this time.
He still had a large chunk of tuna in the freezer, courtesy of Rigel, so that was a Good Thing. And Heero’s cousin had listened with rapt attention to Wufei’s retelling of the Farquahar Incident; an Even Better Thing. Maybe Wyverns weren’t quite as intolerable as he’d always believed… Heero excepted; Heero was not intolerable. Heero was just... Well… Heero.
He sighed again; this time Trowa heard him and glanced over. Wufei rested his head against the window, eyes closed. He might have been asleep, but Trowa didn’t think so. More likely just talking himself into enjoying the weekend. He smirked as he signaled and pulled out to pass a slow-moving truck. One way or another, he would see to it that Wufei relaxed.
Wufei adjusted his pillow for the third time, stifling his grumbles lest he wake Trowa. The Were-Puma could and did sleep anywhere and in any conditions, but he also awoke instantly at the slightest unexpected noise. Wufei settled back down, finally satisfied that the pillow was neither too flat nor too fluffy for his taste. The shades were open at the windows and he could easily see the stars of the Milky Way. Nice. The Castle was too close to the town for much star-gazing, and their apartment was on renter’s row just three blocks off the main highway. They were lucky to be able to see Venus or Mars, let alone any real stars.
Out here, the ambient light was at a minimum; only the occasional interior light from one of the dens peeked around a curtain or vane. Weres had no need of street lights at night and none of the small Clan shops sported any after-hours neon. The closest town was six miles away, over the hill and around a bend in the river, carefully out of sight.
This was a fairly pleasant place, he had to admit. And while rotten cats were rotten cats, these particular rotten cats had been very decent to him so far. Cathy had insisted on hearing the whole story, even going so far as to drag him out to the amphitheater so that everyone with an interest could listen. That was… hm… gratifying in a strangely puffy way. He hadn’t expected to have dozens of Were-Pumas crowded around him, eager to hear his tale of Demons and Danger. The youngsters had oohed and aahed; the adults had gasped and rumbled in all the appropriate places. Very gratifying… indeed.
Dinner had consisted of a number of his favorite foods. Platters of grilled river trout, bowls of sweet and sour cabbage, racks of barbequed ribs, chocolate cake as far as the eye could see…. Astounding, really. And everyone treated him as a national hero. The Puma Clan adored Duo, he knew, so taking a bullet for the Banshee was probably a big part of this nonsense. Still, his standing up to Zephyrus brought cheers and applause on its own merit. The Pumas didn’t like Zephyrus; Cathy had been as furious as Heero when Zephyrus pulled his seduction of Trowa. The female was wickedly protective of her younger brother and had threatened to slice and dice the hedonistic demon if she ever encountered him. As he recalled, he had offered to help her.
With that pleasant thought in mind, he finally drifted off to sleep.
Wufei admitted to a grudging admiration for the manipulative capabilities of these females; they were masters (or should that be mistresses?) of the Clan males.
Trowa immediately agreed to help, and dragged Wufei with him.
“You don’t have to cut,” he tossed over his shoulder as Wufei grumbled about putting guests to work. “I’ll do that, if you’ll stack.”
“And how is that not work?” demanded Wufei.
Trowa smacked his shoulder. “I do know that you carry your wand with you now.”
Wufei rolled his eyes with a huff. Yes, he supposed he could manage a spell to stack some cord wood. Rotten cat. “You’ve been snooping in my other space? Or are you psychic now?”
“You put it there right in front of me yesterday morning, idiot.”
“Oh. Well, fine. You cut and I’ll stack.” Trowa still had the harder job; Wufei would never forget the aching shoulders and blistered hands from chopping wood when he was a teenager at home. No, not “at home”; at his Clan. It was a singularly degrading experience, as he recalled, and he was in no hurry to repeat it.
A cut stack of full trees awaited them in the woodlot. Trowa pointed out the stacked reserve and explained how the Puma Clan arranged the cords, before stepping into the tool shed. Wufei picked a spot in the shade and settled down to wait; it would be a while before Trowa had even a single tree bucked into split-able pieces.
Minutes passed; Trowa came out of the tool shed, walked around the trees, and shifted one to the cutting rack. Wufei listened with half an ear; dozing lightly with his eyes closed. It was a pleasantly warm day; he was comfortable.
There was a cough, and another. Before he could manage to wonder if Trowa was coming down with something, an ear-splitting roar erupted. An instant later, Wufei found himself clinging upside-down to the roof of the shed, his ears ringing, heart pounding, adrenaline surging and every hair on his body standing straight up.
The roar had settled to a bitter whine.
“What the fuck is *that*?!” he yelled over the noise. Holy fucking ancestors; were they under attack?!
The noise lessened slightly.
“Wufei, what the hell are you doing up there?”
Wufei looked down at Trowa. He had on goggles, gun mufflers and gloves and carried some kind of whining, growling machine in his hand. Was that the source of the noise? And then he realized that he was cringing like a terrified gecko, trying to blend into the timbers of the wood shed. He let go and dropped to the ground, face flaming in embarrassment. Trowa looked… perplexed.
“What’s the matter with you, Wufei?” Trowa asked, pulling the gun mufflers off to hang around his neck.
“Nothing!” he snapped back. “What the hell is *that*?” he snarled, pointing at the machine.
Trowa looked down, as if to confirm what Wufei was indicating. “It’s a chain saw,” he said simply.
Wufei stared at him. “A… what?”
“A chain saw. You know, for cutting wood.” It grumbled to a halt as he shut it off and held it out to Wufei.
The Were-Dragon took it gingerly, somewhat surprised at the weight of the thing. “It has an engine…?” He peered at the power head dubiously. He could smell the petroleum, like a car engine. A motorized saw… He touched the small metal teeth that stuck out along a chain wrapping the metal plate. “These do the cutting?”
“Yeah.” Trowa looked at his friend oddly. “You didn’t think I was going to use a hand saw or an axe, did you?”
“Actually,” said Wufei distractedly, “I did. Your Clan uses these things to cut wood? All the time?”
“Um… Yes. We’d be chopping all day, every day if we didn’t. Wufei, haven’t you ever seen a chainsaw before?”
“No… I never knew such things existed…” He looked up at the Were-Puma with wonder in his eyes. “I spent hours chopping wood… Hours. Days. How long have these things been around?”
Trowa blinked at him. He could split logs with an axe, and he’d learned to use both one and two-man crosscut saws to fell and buck trees as a teenager, but that was for the learning experience. No one expected to maintain the woodpile by hand anymore.
“I think chainsaws were invented around 1920 or 1930; something like that. We’ve always had chainsaws; that I remember.”
Wufei poked and prodded and stroked at the machine, little “oohs” and “aahs” slipping out without notice. Crap, thought Trowa; did Wufei’s Clan still use hand tools for everything? What an enormous waste of productive time, if they did.
“Would you like to try it?” he offered. He’d wanted to distract Wufei this weekend… “I can show you how it works.”
Wufei blinked and looked at him. “What? Oh, no; that’s not… necessary.” His eyes drifted back to the powerful machine, hefting it experimentally. “Damn… All those days… Chopping until I thought my damn arms would fall off… And these things have existed for… how long? Seventy, eighty years?” His gaze sharpened. “Has Heero ever done this? Used one of these?”
“I don’t know… I don’t know if his Clan uses firewood the way we do.”
“Is it hard? Or dangerous?”
“It’s not hard, once you learn how, but it’s not a toy. It can hurt you if you aren’t careful and paying attention.” Best to start Wufei on something smaller than the 36-inch saw; that was definitely for experienced users only. He led the way into the tool shed and relieved Wufei of the large Stihl 880. He found a 21-inch model that the younger kits learned on. “Here we go. How about if I show you how it works and then I can buck the logs to length and you can split them? It’ll give you a chance to get used to the feel of it.”
Wufei licked his lips, hefting the smaller saw. “Yeah… That sounds fine…” His eyes seemed awfully bright; Trowa decided he would have to keep an eye on the pissy Dragon, lest he get carried away.
____________________________________________
Three hours and five full trees later, Trowa called a halt, pointing out that they would need to shower and clean up for lunch. Wufei gave up possession of the chainsaw only reluctantly, with an almost loving caress of the power head.
“Don’t we have to clean the saws?” he asked suddenly. The Were-Dragon clearly wasn’t ready to end his chainsaw experience. Trowa could barely contain his snickers.
“No, that’s part of the chore breakdown. There are cutters and cleaners; once we get back, I’ll let Mirabelle know that we’re finished and she’ll send the cleaners down to do the cleaning and maintenance. Before the kits are allowed to use the chainsaws, they learn to care for them. It’ll probably be Hortensia and Raphael this month.”
Wufei blinked, pulling his hands away from the nifty little machine that had accomplished two days work in a few hours.
“Hortensia? Someone named their child *Hortensia*?! Damn, Trowa, what did the poor kid do to deserve that?”
Trowa snorted. “It’s a perfectly good name, lizard! She’s named after her great-grandmother.”
Wufei made a disbelieving noise and followed Trowa back up the trail to the dens. “You people have the damnedest naming traditions… You’re almost as bad as Humans.”
“Oh? And I suppose ‘Wufei’ is the height of popularity among Were-Dragons?”
Wufei rolled his eyes. It wasn’t; he’d been named for a rather obscure ancestor who apparently had done nothing worthy of note. Funny how names could affect one’s whole life…
“Not really… They mostly borrowed from the Chinese Humans… Some traditional thing from back in the beginnings…” He shrugged. It didn’t much matter to him anymore.
_____________________________________
Trowa awakened the next morning to someone hissing his name. He blinked at the odd sound, not so much because it was a hiss, but because it was a female hiss. What…?He rolled over to find his sister smirking at him.
“Cathy…? Wha…?”
“You’re getting lazy, little brother; you wore yourself out on the woodpile yesterday.”
He blinked. “What time is it?” He was still asleep enough that using his instincts to find the relative position of the sun was beyond him. It was well after dawn, though; he could tell that from the quality of the light in his room.
“Nearly noon, you slugabed. Roll out; I have something to show you.” The smirk had turned into a grin.
He groaned theatrically. “Can’t you bring it here?” he whined playfully.
She smacked him on the shoulder lightly. “No. You have to come down to the main hall. Hurry up, or you’ll miss it.”
“All right, all right.” He threw back the coverings and sat up. Wufei’s bed was empty and neatly made. That was surprising; the pissy Dragon wasn’t usually an early riser. Then again, it wasn’t all that early anymore. “Is he downstairs already?”
Cathy laughed. “He sure is!” She skipped out of the room, leaving Trowa frowning after her. These females…
He got himself vertical and dressed and down the stairs in less than five minutes, wondering just what his sister was so amused by.
Downstairs, he found a dozen or so of the den’s residents huddled around a cellphone; all of them giggling or snickering as the phone was passed around.
“Trowa’s here,” announced his sister, and the phone was passed his way.
“What’s up?” he asked. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”
“Just look at the screen,” laughed his Uncle Beren. “You really need to come home more often, son; and bring that scaly friend of yours. He’s a hoot and a half.”
Trowa’s eyebrows shot up. Well, Uncle Beren was understood to be a little… um… around the bend – in a nice way, of course – so maybe this was just part of it.
He looked down at the tiny screen of the phone, noticing as he did that whomever was on the other end was murmuring softly; a running commentary.
At first, he couldn’t make out what he was seeing. Something dark moving at a good speed in a repetitious manner, and a roaring noise. He caught the word “Dragon” in the murmur and suddenly the picture was crystal clear. He almost dropped the phone when he yelped in surprise.
“Wufei!”
Over the tinny speaker the murmuring voice became clear. “Trowa? That you? Dude, what did you put in your Dragon’s dinner last night?”
“Gary?” he replied hesitantly. The picture shifted and he was looking at his cousin’s cheerful face.
“Yeah. Hey, you gotta bring this guy home with you more often! We’ll never have woodlot duty again!” The picture returned to the view of Wufei, in t-shirt and jeans, outfitted with goggles, gloves and gunmufflers, enthusiastically attacking a tree with the chainsaw he’d used the day before. Even with the roar of the saw, Trowa could hear his raucous, almost maniacal laughter, and make out some of the words he yelled in between.
“…good enough for your ancestors, it’s good enough for you… …never mind the splinters, be a real male… …your turn, we’ll sit and fucking watch!!!”
Trowa blinked at the phone. Oh, boy. Wufei and his family issues… He handed the phone back to his uncle. “How long has he been doing that?”
“Couple of hours, at least,” said Cathy with a grin. “I heard the saw start up around 0730. Didn’t realize it was him until Gary called. He’s hiding behind the shed. Said he didn’t want to interrupt your Dragon while he seems to be venting.” Trowa stared at her.
Venting… Oh, yeah; Wufei was definitely venting. Still…
“He’s a guest here! We don’t put our guests to work!”
“He put himself to work,” muttered one of the younger kits. Trowa cast a baleful eye his way.
“He’s still a guest and he shouldn’t be doing *our* work! Get your boots on, Roman; you’ve got a saw to clean for that,” he growled at the kit. The youngster opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again as Uncle Beren glared at him.
“Yeah, that Dragon’s been really entertaining, but it’s time you got him back here before he hurts himself. Go on, Roman; mind your cousin. And your mouth, too!” he hollered after the kit as he went to dig his boots out of the closet. He closed the phone then and ambled toward the kitchen. “Come on; show’s over. Any coffee left? I think our guest will probably like a cup once he gets back.”
The other Pumas dispersed then, some of them still snickering, all of them grinning. Cathy poked her brother in the ribs with a snort and he glared at her.
“You know, that Were-Dragon is a pretty good sort, once he unwinds a little. Maybe his pony-tail is just too tight.” She looked Trowa over thoughtfully. “You like him?”
“Of course I like him; he’s my roommate and my best friend.”
“No, dork; I mean do you *like* him?”
Trowa growled. “Cathy, don’t start!”
“I’m not starting anything!” she protested. “I’m
just saying…” She turned back to the pile of fresh laundry on the
table and began folding. “He’s a damn sight more appropriate than
that sleazy demon, is all I’m saying,” she muttered under her breath.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Approaching the woodlot, Trowa heard the whine of the chainsaw as it bit down on a piece of tree trunk. A matter of a few seconds and the pitch changed as the chunk split. He was really booming through the waiting logs, Trowa noticed. There were only two left, when yesterday there had been over a dozen. The Were-Puma shook his head; all this over some childhood hurts. Then again, he’d seen the look on Wufei’s face when he read that final letter from his father. He might not want to be with his Clan, but he wanted to be a part of them, not some unhoused wanderer. At least Duo had Teal and Dael; Wufei had no one.
No, he corrected himself; he has us, all of us; the Clan of the Almighty Q. He smirked at that thought; it started as Wufei’s attempt to make Duo feel better; now it was practically the office motto. They just needed a crest to put it on.
The saw burped and stopped; the sudden silence made the area seem eerily empty. Wufei dragged his gloved hand across his forehead and pulled the gunmufflers down as he turned to the fuel can on the table against the shed.
“Wufei!”
The Were-Dragon jumped, spinning in midair. “Sonuvabitch! Announce yourself, dammit!” he snarled at Trowa, glaring.
Trowa hopped over the low fence and faced his friend, hands on his hips in exasperation. “What are you doing down here?” he demanded.
Wufei rolled his eyes and reached for the fuel. “I am enjoying myself,” he declared haughtily. “I am doing the work of five young Were-Dragons without getting heatstroke, without blisters, without being attacked by woodchips or having to sharpen myriad axes and without being harassed and harangued by the older males,” he growled. He gestured to the camera perched on the table. “I intend to make a hundred copies of the pictures I’ve taken and distribute them to every teenaged male in my Clan.”
Trowa stared at him. “Why?!”
Wufei didn’t look at him as he refueled the chainsaw. “They may not acquire chainsaws, but by damn that Clan is going to know they exist! And they are going to know just how fucking backward they are for denying the existence of any modern technology! Fucking Luddites!” he snarled. He refitted the gunmufflers, and yanked the cord to start the saw.
Trowa stepped back, out of the cutting circle. Well. Damn. Then again… He could picture a troop of teenaged Wufeis gathered around photos of chainsaws in action, being wielded by one of their own. Could be a revolution in the making. He smirked to himself. If it made Wufei feel better, what the hell.
He stepped around into Wufei’s field of vision and waved to get his attention. When Wufei looked up, he held up two fingers, indicating that he could finish the two cuts left from the tree, and then he had to quit. Incredibly, Wufei grinned and nodded.
Twenty minutes later, Wufei posed, grinning broadly and still outfitted in goggles, gunmufflers and gloves, with two chainsaws in front of the filled woodshed, while Trowa snapped off half a dozen photos.
“You’re going to freak them out,” Trowa warned happily.
Wufei laughed; the first real laugh Trowa had heard in some time; he liked this quite a bit more than the usual derisive snort.
“I hope it does! Trowa, we spent days – weeks! – hacking away with axes to get even half as much wood as is in this shed right now! From the age of ten through fifteen, it is a male’s job to chop wood. And it’s part of the job to have older males hanging around laughing and critiquing your skill! If you hurt yourself, they laugh at you! It’s supposed to make you stronger! To make you… worthy…” He sat down on the low fence rail. “So many things are supposed to make you stronger; to give you more honors. What the fuck is honorable about chopping fucking wood?! It’s a utility skill; it’s not a matter of life and death and respect for the Ancestors, dammit!” He slapped the gloves against the railing. “My Clan sucks. They have lost their way and their honor,” he growled bitterly. “Ancestors help me, but Heero’s Clan has more honor than my Clan has had in centuries. Hell, *your* Clan has more honor than mine!”
Trowa blinked. “Well, gee, Wufei. Thanks so much.”
Wufei shook his head. “You know what I mean, dammit!” He glared down at his boots, filthy with dirt and wood shavings.
Trowa cocked his head, regarding his friend with a fond smile. Idiot Dragon. He raised the camera and snapped a picture of the idiot Dragon pouting like a little boy.
“Yeah, I know, you mangy reptile. C’mon; let’s go clean up and get some lunch. Uncle Beren thinks you’re okay, for a Dragon.”
“Does he? Well, that’s very reptilian of him.”
“Jerk.”
“Dork.”
__________________________________
“I could have done that! I don’t want you to hurt yourself!”
cried Trowa to his uncle.
“Oh, please! There’s nothin’ hard about hooking up a trailer. Besides, I paid a pretty penny for that trailer; don’t want it comin’ loose halfway down the highway,” laughed Beren. “You tell that Rowdy he better be damn appreciative for you bringing that thing to him, or I’ll come down there and peel his tail.”
“You know I will, Uncle Beren,” Trowa laughed. “He’s actually doing pretty well on that job, in spite of how it started. I think he’ll be okay. Hey, thanks Gary! Let me get the ramp.” He turned away to fold down the loading ramp for the open trailer, as the other Were-Puma wheeled a motorcycle out of the garage. Together, they rolled the bike up onto the trailer and Trowa held it steady while Gary secured it with nylon straps.
Wufei watched curiously. “This contraption belongs to Rowdy?”
“Yep,” drawled Beren. “Kid’s been working on it for over a year. It runs, but not reliable enough to make the trip down country. He said he was gonna get Trowa to help him with it.” He glanced at the Were-Dragon. “Trowa’s got a knack with mechanicals. Must be one of his wild Human genes.”
Wufei blinked. “Trowa has Humans in his background.”
Beren snorted. “Most of us do; something about the fur coat, I’m told. Let’s see… Trowa and Cathy’s great-great-“ He paused to count silently. “-Great-grandfather was a Human engineer. Took one look at Lilith and fell like a ton of rocks. That whole branch of the Clan has a real feel for Human technology.”
Wufei blinked again. “Wow. How about that?” he murmured.
Trowa climbed into the SUV and flicked on the lights and went through his safety check, Gary watching the trailer for running lights and brakes. “You’re good!” he called. Trowa climbed down and the two hugged warmly. “Mind your speed on the grades and check those connections at every stop,” advised Gary.
“I will; thanks. See you next time.”
Beren grabbed Trowa in a Puma hug, lifting the tall creature right off his feet. “Drive sane, kid; see you next time.” He ruffled Trowa’s hair. “Give that to Rowdy.” Then he turned to Wufei.
Wufei froze, wide-eyed. Was that muscular Puma going to hug *him*? He’d squash him! But Beren put his hands together in the eastern manner and bowed slightly.
“Nice to meet you, Dragon. Come on up more often; we got plenty of wood.”
Wufei snorted a laugh and returned the bow. “Thank you, sir! I believe I shall!”
Easing down the graveled road from the Clanhold to the highway, Trowa shot a glance at his friend. “So, was it a good weekend?”
Wufei returned the look with a smirk. “It was indeed a good weekend; thank you for inviting me.” He raised one eyebrow.
Trowa laughed. “So, it’s okay to lizard-nap you again?”
“Mmm… You may,” he allowed regally. “Let’s stop at the Castle when we get home; I feel like sitting in the Jacuzzi for an hour or so.”
“Works for me.”
__________________________________________
Duo lifted his chin into the wind of the highway. Damn, but he loved driving like this! He was so glad Heero had taken the time to teach him to drive and allow him to indulge with this car. Sure, he wouldn’t need to drive if he ever managed to get his porting skills under control, but it was terrific recreation and he just loved doing it. He glanced sideways to where Heero was comfortably basking in the top-down sunshine. What a guy… What a fabulous guy…
His excellent hearing picked up a wailing sound from behind them; he glanced in the mirrors, but the traffic was just heavy enough to make the view useless.
“Heero,” he asked instead; “Is that a siren coming up behind us?”
Heero raised up in the seat and turned to glare at the pocket of traffic behind them. “Sounds like it. Sheriffs, I think.”
“I better get over, then,” Duo sighed, checking the lane beside him. He began moving over along with some of the other vehicles, as Heero continued to watch the road behind them.
“Coming fast,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. The car was quite low to the ground, so his vantage wasn’t the best.
Traffic parted behind them suddenly, and a large blue pickup truck was *right there* with three angrily wailing sheriff’s cars right behind it.
“It’s a chase!” Heero snapped. “Stay put! No telling which way the fool will go!”
Duo made a strangled noise, his hands tightening on the wheel and his eyes flicking to the mirrors. He lifted off the gas and then the pickup was on their bumper.
It swerved right, then left and clipped the left rear of the car before roaring on down the road. Duo gasped as the car fishtailed, threatened to skid, almost spun and finally righted itself. Heero had grabbed hold of the wheel, as well, helping the Banshee manage the out of control vehicle. At some point in the seconds of panic, Duo remembered to jump on both the clutch and the brake and came to a sharp stop sideways on the right-hand berm.
Back to Chapter one hundred five
on to chapter one hundred seven