Her vision cleared to see the light blue sky overhead, the last vestiges of night being chased away by bright sunlight. Coughing out a mouthful of dirt, she stared down at the man beneath her as she straddled him in a most unladylike way, her hands firmly pressed against his naked chest for balance. They were only a handful of feet from the edge of the chasm. “I think I need another repair job,” Jon mumbled, “and some more of Mrs. Carver’s tea.” Samantha reached for his right hand. Pulling it up in front of her, she inspected the raw flesh that had only a few seconds ago been ensconced in a steel skeleton. Deep red markings scarred Jon’s right arm and hand, small cuts trickling blood where the sharper edges of the brace had ripped free. But the hand was still attached to Jon, and Jon was still alive. She clutched the hand to her chest and closed her eyes tight, letting out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a cry of relief.
What do You think about Wild Cards And Iron Horses?
