The Skies Discrowned Read Online Free PDF Page A

buildings. At the same moment Frank turned and sprinted, as quietly as he could, toward the chain-link fence and the tractor motors. He heard, without thinking about it, angry calls behind him. Forget it, he thought, they’re after that old guy. Keep running.
    “Hey,
you!”
sounded an exasperated shout. That’s probably me he’s yelling at; well, I have to play out the hand now, he thought. He wrung the highest degree of speed out of his pounding legs, ignoring the shortness of his breath and the pain in his stomach. The fence seemed to slowly jerk closer. Vividly, he could picture the guard unsnapping the flap on his holster, lifting out the pistol, and raising it to eye level. Should I weave right and left to spoil their aim? No, that’d slow me down, he thought.
    “Hold it right there, kid, or I’ll shoot,” called one of the guards. Frank covered the last ten feet and leaped, arms still bound, to the oily top of one of the tractor motors; without stopping he sprang up the stairs theyformed, and then jumped with all his strength to clear the barbed wire. A gunshot cracked and his body jerked as it fell away, awkwardly, on the other side of the fence.
    “You get him?” asked one of the guards.
    “Sure I got him,” the other guard replied, holstering his gun.
    “A lucky shot at this range. You must have aimed high,” commented another. “I’ll send the grounds patrol to pick up the body. Come on, help me get this guy stowed.” The guards picked up the unconscious, bleeding form of the unfortunate bed-burner and strode off toward the ship.

CHAPTER 3

    Frank’s flying leap ended in a ragged slide down a dirt embankment to a service road below. The breath was knocked out of him, and the side of his head stung where the bullet had creased him. He lay still for a minute or two to get his breath back, but he knew he couldn’t rest yet. He struggled to his skinned knees and spit dirt out of his mouth. I’ve
got
to untie my hands, he realized, looking around desperately for some object with a sharp edge. He saw nothing but the hill and the road.
    He got shakily to his feet, but didn’t feel able to walk. Blood from his right ear ran down his neck and stained his ruined shirt. I can’t take a whole lot more of this, he thought. Looking south, away from the slope, he could see the steep banks of the Malachi. That’s where I want to go, he told himself. The Malachi flows right into Munson, and that ancient metropolis has been harboring fugitives for five hundred years.
    The grating roar of a jeep interrupted his thoughts. He knew there was no nearby place to hide, so he flopped down on his stomach beside the road, lying on his good ear. A few moments later the jeep rounded the corner and bore down on his lifeless-looking body. It squealed to a halt beside him, its motor still chugging. Frank held his breath.
    “Look at him,” remarked the driver. “The bullet went right through his head.”
    “Lemme see,” spoke up his partner. “Wow. I wish they’d issue guns to us.”
    “Hah,” replied the driver. “Like to see you try to handle a gun.”
    “I could do it.”
    “Yeah, sure. Throw our friend here into the back, will you?”
    “Aren’t you gonna give me a hand?”
    “No, I’ve got to stay here and keep my foot on the clutch. Hurry up.”
    “Oh, man,” whined the other, climbing out of the vehicle. Frank heard his boots crunch in the dirt as the man walked over to his prostrate form. Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled. I can’t keep playing dead, Frank thought, terrified; I
can‘t
. Any second now they’re going to notice.
    “This guy’s
heavy?
the man complained.
    “For God’s sake, Howard, he’s skinny. Now stop bitching and toss him in here.”
    Howard lifted Frank by the belt and slipped an arm under his stomach. Then with an exaggerated groan he heaved the limp body up onto his shoulder. Frank managed to keep from tensing any muscles during the maneuver, but couldn’t