Hybrid Zone Recognition Read Free Page B

she concurred, “extinction events might qualify as otherwise.”
    This wasn’t the first or even second time we’d had this sort of conversation. Only the accompanying circumstances seemed to vary.
    “But, then again,” she lectured on, “many world cultures, even the Good Book, predict the end of the world.”
    Wow, this was such an emotionally uplifting discussion we were having. I took a breath prepared to rebut her, when I suddenly had a new brainstorm about the hunt for Kenny’s DNA. It was so obvious. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before.
    “Hey Miranda, assuming I live through this, I think I have another idea about how to get Kenny’s DNA.”
    There was a long pause before she answered. “Does it involve me being stuck in this truck for three days again?”
    “I don’t think so, but I haven’t worked out the details yet. I could arrange it, if you like.”
    “I don’t,” she hissed.
    Her response was so filled with hostility that it made me laugh out loud. I quickly stifled the laugh behind my hands, but I was sure the damage was done. Letting the shooter know that I was still here probably wasn’t the smartest move.
    I dropped my hands and grimaced as I spit out the errant pieces of stuff that had transferred from my hands to my mouth. “Do believe me when I say you got the better deal.”
    “Just so we’re clear. I am not agreeing to the plan itself, only to listen to the plan.”
    I maintained my silence, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. I could have heard her sigh even without the earpiece.
    “What’s the plan?” she said dejectedly.
    I opened my mouth to respond and then snapped it shut again when a sudden eruption of noise drew my attention. Listening intently, I determined it was coming from a good distance away on the other side of the tree.
    “Just a minute,” I told her.
    Tilting my head to the side, I strained to capture the sounds. There were several thuds followed by someone or something crashing through the woods. Whatever the origin of the sounds, there was no effort at concealment. The noises gradually faded until it was silent again. If I had to interpret what just happened, I’d say it sounded like a struggle of some kind.
    I resumed my crouch and ventured a quick look around the tree. No corresponding shot was fired. More slowly, I peered around the tree again. My head remained attached, always a good sign.
    Staring in the direction of the shooter, I didn’t see anyone. But I didn’t really know what I was looking for, and it was hard to see through all the foliage. There was no sun glinting off metal—learned that tidbit from one of my rare nights of watching television.
    I pulled back behind the tree as I mulled it over. If the shooter had still been there, he would have taken the shot. There was no hesitation in any of his previous attempts. Then there was the fact that I really detested waiting. Actually, it was the wasted time associated with waiting that I hated. Every now and then, there was a purpose in waiting. A really good one, like remaining alive.
    “Miranda, I’m going to start heading your way.”
    “You sure the coast is clear?”
    “I live in the gray, remember? I’m not absolutely positive, but I think so. I think I heard a fight. Maybe I have a guardian angel that beat up my assailant. I’m going to check it out. Keep your eyes open.”
    “The infrared doesn’t indicate the presence of wings,” she replied flatly.
    Ha, ha. “I meant watch for movement of any kind that would indicate I am not alone.”
    “When did you become the detective slash investigator person?”
    “Apparently, when I took this job,” I said, standing up. “It must have been in the fine print.”
    “Didn’t read it, did you?” she said accusingly.
    “Does anybody?” I said exasperated. “I just pressed accept.”
    With her voice still dripping with sarcasm, she asked, “Wonder what else you’ll become before this is