"Well, thank you ever so much, Rainbow Bright, Princess Pain in My Ass, for the commentary on my lack of practical knowledge in the field of mating. As you might recall, I was as sure as someone with ten Ph.D.s, an M.D., and an IQ as high as mine can be that I would never ever never in a million, trillion years find my mate."
“Yes, and if you recollect, I told you that there is someone for everyone, even you.”
“Yes, but…”
“Yes, but what?”
"Yes, but… well, I don't have an answer. Just tell me how to use the Jedi mate mind-link thingy. Is that too much to ask?"
“No, it’s really not, but…”
“Yeah, what now?”
"You remember Dino Dave?"
“Yeah, I was the one who named him.” For sure, her tone was snarky, and, yes, she was being a bitch, but things had gone from bad to worse and were quickly heading to “bite me in the ass and call me Betsey” territory.
"Well, he's leading the march toward the base of the mountain. And if I'm not mistaken, those things in their hands, or paws, or claws, are motorized grappling hooks attached to long-barrel air rifles that are not for shooting cute T-shirts with cool sayings on them into the crowds of adoring fans that they most assuredly do not have.”
Spinning one way and then the other before sprinting forward, throwing herself on the ground, and sliding to the edge like she was stealing home, Freddie peered over the edge. Sure enough, there they were. “Why did I have to ask? Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut? Why didn’t I fix the plane? Why do I always put the most horrible things out in the universe just daring Destiny and her even worse sister, Fate, to bite me in the ass?”
“Why aren’t you calling your mate?”
“Oh, shut up, Bright, you know why.”
“Are we going with pride or stupidity?”
“I’m going with, when the hell have we ever needed anyone to save us? We are tree frog…”
“Butterfly, fairy princess, and witch…”
“Yeah, hear us fuckin’ roar.”
Up on her feet and racing back to the jet, Freddie then jumped into the cockpit, used the yoke to catapult across the pilot’s seat, and flew through the cabin like she’d been shot out of a cannon. Opening compartments, lockers, closets, and cubbyholes as she went, the renowned researcher ended the first leg of her sprint by grabbing the handles in the very center of the back wall and flinging open the gun cabinet.
"I'll need this, this, this and this." She grabbed the rocket launcher that fired canisters designed to rain silver nitrate pellets in a four-hundred-yard-radius. Along with it, a case of grenades loaded with silver-laced gunpowder, her shoulder harness with all seven of her finest silver blades, and the one and only LF623 Minigun. The Lightfoot623, a machine gun of her own design—featuring her last name and her birth date—with the capability of firing 10,623 rounds per minute.
“But you only have two hands,” Bright pointed out.
“Watch and learn, Princess Poo Poo,” Freddie growled. “Watch and learn.”
Back out of the plane the way she'd come, Freddie placed the shoulder harness right behind the wheel on the pilot's side. Twenty yards away, between two huge boulders, the back with a divot the size of her backside and the front with the perfect flat edge, she set up the Minigun on its tripod. Fifty yards closer, just about halfway to the edge, she pulled the retractable spade from her backpack, dug a trench, and placed all twenty-four grenades in a nice neat line.
Running through the plan one more time in her head, the mechanical whir of the dino super soldiers' climbing contraptions buzzed through the air. Listening to the thwap and clank of the hooks making contact with the ledge right below, Freddie got down on her knees behind a pile of grass-covered rocks. Balancing the front of the rocket launcher on the peak of the heap, she set her ass on her heels and the butt of the weapon on her shoulder.
Breathing in as deeply as she could to the count of three, Freddie held it for an extra second before exhaling to the exact same count, only backward. “Three… two… one…”
Listening to the all-too-familiar scrape of combat boots against rock, all she could do was wait. They were coming. There was no doubt about it. The dino super soldiers were coming to get her.
“And I still don’t know who is behind this shit or what’s really going on,” she whispered to Bright. “Guess we have to keep at least one of these mofos alive to get our answers.”
Freddie kept her eyes trained on the edge. She heard the dinos' boots on the outcropping just below. Then the pfft of the air rifle cut through the air. Next came the thwap of the high-tension wire. And lastly, the chink and thunk right before the bright flash of four hooks simultaneously dug into the ledge right in front of her.
Finger on the trigger, she inhaled slowly, focused on Bright’s whispered, “Steady, Freddie. You got th—”
“Owwww…” Freddie screamed, her right hand flying off the trigger, slapping on her neck, batting away the instant and horrendous stinging and burning.
Slumping backward, her arms suddenly full of lead and her legs like two of those Styrofoam noodles she'd seen kids beat each other with while in the pool of every hotel she'd ever stayed in, Freddie fell into the waiting arms of none other than Dino Dave. Squinting against the glare of the sun and the effects of whatever he'd shot into her neck, the mohawked dino super soldier was almost handsome in a bad-guy-just-drugged-her kinda way.
Working hard to stay awake and not to be taken hostage, Freddie's muscles turned to jelly and her brain to mush. All she could do was slur, "You didn't play fair, you…" before everything faded to black.
7
"Dive! Dive! Dive!" Buck roared, throwing off his seatbelt and both over-the-shoulder harnesses before vaulting over the center console and racing to the back of the modified jet. Shoving his arms into the straps of his parachute, he slid open the side door and grabbed ahold of the handle.
“Closer,” he snapped, waiting until the bottom of the plane brushed the treetops before bellowing, “I’m out! See ya on the ground!”
Knowing Dusty had his back, without waiting for a response, Buck jumped from the plane. They didn’t need words. They’d been in stickier situations. That Rhode Island red would do what she had to do to keep them all alive.
“Just like you’re gonna do,” Harry barked. “Can’t you fall any faster? That son of a bitch knows the terrain. We’re gonna lose him. When did you start falling like an old lady?”
“How about I let you handle this, General Jerkoff?”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the honey badger with whom he shared his soul forced the shift. One minute, Buck was watching his unconscious mate being carried through the Brazilian jungle, thrown over the shoulder of the freakiest-looking dinosaur nobody in the swamp would ever believe existed, and the next, his perspective was that of a passenger in Harry's mind.
“What the…?”
“Be careful what you wish for,” the honey badger spat. “You know you don’t have to ask me twice, butthead. I have control issues that there just ain’t no cure for.”