Chapter Seventy-Three
Based on how sweat was rolling down Connor’s back, he figured it must be midday. The sun was certainly blinding enough when he looked out from the shade under the Lucky Sevens. Even that shade wasn’t enough to diminish the misery of this miserable, murderous world.
Yemi shook sweat from his eyes. “Yemi hates the heat of the planet.”
“You and me both.” Connor arched his back, trying to fight off the start of spasms. His breath was deadly, the taste in his mouth foul. He needed more water. He needed rest.
But they still had work to do on the landing gear.
He pointed to where Yemi should place the big chisel on the stripped bolt head, then brought back the big hammer.
Connor clenched his teeth against the noise that was to come. It would be like a bell ringing out over a valley, summoning the giant bug things from the nearby woods. Or maybe it would summon worse.