1269_UgliesFreeBook

290 Scott Westerfeld
watching a slow-motion tennis match without much
interest.
Tally crept closer, staying pressed against the building.
A hovercar passed overhead, blowing a maelstrom of dust
and loose wood chips into her eyes.
When she could see again, Tally found an aging ugly
crouching next to her, against the wall.
“Hey!” he hissed.
She recognized the sagging features, the bitter expression.
It was the Boss.
“Young lady, we have a problem.” His harsh voice cut
through the cacophony of the attack.
She glanced in the direction of the waiting Special.
“Yeah, I know.”
Another hovercar roared over them, and he pulled her
around the corner of the building and down behind a drum
that collected rainwater from the gutters.
“You noticed her too?” He grinned, showing a missing
tooth. “Maybe if we both run at once, one of us might make
it. If the other puts up a fight.”
Tally swallowed. “I guess.” She peered out at the Special,
who stood as calmly as a crumbly waiting for a pleasure
ferry. “But they’re pretty fast.”
“That depends.” He dropped the duffel bag from his
shoulder. “There’re two things I keep ready for emergencies.”
The Boss unzipped the bag and pulled out a plastic
container big enough for a sandwich. “This is one.” He