Fairy Tale Ending
Emily returned to the Land Rover to find Fulton hunched over, vomiting into the gutter. His puke was that thick, yellow bile you threw up after a night of hard drinking.
“Concussion, I bet. You’ll need to get that checked.”
“I thought I was dead.” Fulton wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Again,” he added.
Emily bent for the carbine she’d tossed away earlier.
“I didn’t know the cartels had an air force,” Fulton said.
He looked up. Bile dribbled down his chin. “It was a joke.”
Emily stuck a clip into the carbine, gave it a good whack with the heel of her hand for the satisfaction of seating it properly. Something about the feel of a gun in her hands. A gun made her master of her fate. “Earlier you compared hackers to wizards. Do you believe that? Or is that just some bullshit you talk about when you’re wound up or drunk?”
Fulton wiped his chin on his sleeve. “I’d bet my life on it,” he said.