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Renrut's creepy assistant knew he held the upper hand at the moment.
"TTHPPPPT!!!" he spat, sneering and wagging his head like a real jerk. "TTHPPPPT!!!" He was the only one between the two of us who could bring Coyote Cal and Big Yap out of Casablanca and back into their own world—the fictional world where I still found myself. "TTHPPPPT!!!" He stuck his tongue out at me, knowing there was nothing I could do.
Except grab hold of his slimy tongue in a vice-like grip and give it a sharp yank, pulling it taut. That did the trick. He stopped spitting at me, and he stopped sneering. Now he hunkered over in agony, his eyes wide and bloodshot.
"Listen," I said. "You're gonna bring back my heroes, see? Then you're gonna send me back to my room and my computer, see? And then you're gonna send back all those great actors to their respective classic movies, see? And you're gonna do it now!"
I released his tongue, and it shot back into his mouth with a ridiculous flapping sound. (Yep, things were getting more cartoonish by the minute.)
Keeping a wary eye on me, the bound lab tech shuffled sideways over to the CTS console and got to work. Punching a button here, flipping a switch there, spinning a knob, sliding a slider thingy, he used his one free index finger to prep the CTS platform and get it ready to bring back Cal and Yap.
"How soon will it be ready?"
He fixed his hollow-eyed gaze on me.
"Is it ready yet?" I clarified.
He nodded.
"Then do it. Bring them back."
He stared at me blankly for a few awkward moments before returning to the panel and mumbling something to himself. I couldn't hear it over all the whirring, warbling, and bleeping in the room. Probably cussing me out.
"Hurry up." I glanced at the big viewscreen, watched Cal and Yap—
Suddenly an alarm pierced the air as DUNGEON RELEASE flashed across every screen in sight.
"Dungeon release? What the heck did you do?"
The creepy assistant kept his tongue where it belonged, but he waved his finger at me and sneered, "Neener neener." So mature.
I stood there frozen, lost in the moment. Soon every one of the prisoners in Renrut's deepest, darkest dungeon—including Det Renrut himself—would be free to charge in through those steel doors and exact their vengeance upon me.
Or something like that.
Meanwhile, back in Casablanca, Big Yap was growing more uncomfortable by the minute.
"I don't like it, Cal. Not one bit." He shook his head. "The author's been gone too long."
Cal and Yap remained in the shadows outside Rick's Café, speaking in low tones and trying to remain inconspicuous.
"I've got a bad feeling about this." Cal squinted as the floodlight made its regular pass across the front of the nightclub. "If something happened to the author, we might as well forget any chance of leaving this moving picture."
"What about all of our fans, Cal? We'll never be in another weird western story. What about all those kiddies that look up to us as heroes from a bygone era? They sure will be disappointed. Not to mention my ma." He shook his head sadly. "She's been our biggest fan."
Coyote Cal started to feel a little depressed.
"Say fellas," a voice interrupted their melancholy reverie. They looked up to find none other than Humphrey Bogart himself standing before them in a fluorescent green tuxedo. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare suit I could borrow? This thing gives me the heebie-jeebies."
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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Why fluorescent green?
What will happen next?
What the heck is happening now?
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To find out, stay close to your eReader for the next installment of
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TROUBLE ON THE RANGE!
