It had rung twenty times. He let it ring ten more before hanging up.533Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡls3iNqqUQA
"All right, Janice's not home. So I'll try somebody else. Chris's wife or Leonard's."
His dime didn't come back.
Kirk thrust his forefinger into the coin return slot. It was empty.
He slammed the side of the wall phone with the side of his fist.
No dime.
He lifted the receiver, listened. He'd lost the dial tone. He snapped the holder up and down, then hung the phone up.
No dime.
Kirk went back to the fallen cash register, knelt beside it.
"If I can find one more dime, two nickels, anything..."
Then he heard the helicopters---a pair of them---huffing and puffing, closer and closer.
Kirk crawled across the floor to one of the dirt-smeared front windows of the station.
The choppers were hovering over the roadway, just a few yards above it.
Obviously, they were going to land. They likely had no idea he was here, but they were going to check out this ramshackle old building anyway.
Thorough, that's what they were. Didn't pass up anything.
They helicopters set down on the desert, which framed the narrow room.
There wasn't anywhere he could hide. Nothing he could use for a weapon.
Very carefully, he peered again through the front window. Two men were disembarking from one of the helicopters. Both carried pistols.
"Wonder what Roddenberry's orders are? Could be to get me back any way they can, dead or alive."
The two men were coming straight for the station.
Cox made a face and scratched at his nose. The searching, outside of inverting his stomach, was bearing no fruit. "Maybe," he called out to his bald pilot, "we should try another direction."
"Over there!"
"What?!"
"Over there, smart ass!" Connelly jerked a finger in the direction of a narrow strip of road.
Two helicopters were sitting on the ground, just 100 yards or less from a run-down gas station. "Could be something," said Cox.
"Been seeing 'em around, last couple days. Could be they're looking for your friend, too."
"Okay. Can you case that setup?"
"Ain't I proved my ability to fly by now?"
Connelly guided his ancient crop-dusting plane down toward the gas-station.
Eyes narrowed, Cox watched the roadway. "Two guys."
"Two guys with guns!"
"Somebody must be in that building, and they're going after him," decided Cox. "We got to land."
"Remember those guns."
"You're getting a third of the loot."
"Better make that half!"
"Done!"
He stopped breathing. Kirk stood pressed to the wall inside the gas station, flat beside the door.
Footsteps slowly came nearer.
"Somebody did a job on this door," said a voice outside.
Kirk very quietly let out a breath, waiting.
"Go easy," advised a second voice. "I'll cover you."
What was left of the door came slamming inward, away from Kirk.
A gun came floating into the room, held by a gloved hand.
When half of the arm, clad in green jumpsuit cloth, was in, Kirk dealt a savage chop to the arm.
The man yelled, his gun smacked the wooden floor.
Kirk jumped, keeping the man between himself and the second green-suited man.
He brought up his knee and caught the man in the groin. Ducking, he hit him hard with his shoulder.
The man went flying out of the room and smack into his partner.
Kirk, diving and scooping up the fallen pistol, went dashing across the room. He tensed and went diving through the back window.
This might be something," remarked Connelly, as glass came exploding out into the bright desert day. The biplane, prop still turning, had just settled down behind the station.
"Christ, that's Kirk!" Cox stood up in his seat, waved his arms. "Kirk, over here!"
"He the one we're looking for?"
"Yeah, yeah, get closer."
Connelly taxied towards the stumbling astronaut.
A man in a green jumpsuit, after brushing away jagged shards of glass with a gloved hand, was climbing out of the window Kirk had gone through. When he hit the ground, he pointed his pistol skyward and fired once.
"This beats dusting crops," said Connelly, with a pleased chuckle.
"And it's only just beginning." They were very close to Kirk now. Cox leaned far out. "Come on, get aboard!"
Kirk, his face twisted with pain, was trying to reach the lower wing of the biplane.
"We got company," said Connelly.
One of the helicopters had come bobbing over the gas station.
Kirk got hold of a strut and pulled himself onto the wing.
"Take her up!" urged Cox. "Jesus, get us in the air and outta here!"
"Here we go, everybody hold onto your nuts."
The old plane swung around and went bouncing along the dusty ground. The helicopter was getting close, and now the second one rose into view.
The rear wheel of Connelly's plane bounced once, twice, and then was free of the ground, as it rose into the sky.
Kirk hugged the strut as the biplane rose higher and higher. He stared at Cox. "I know you!" he shouted in a croaking voice.
"Cox, NBC," the reporter yelled back. "Please, hold on real well. You're my big story of the year."
"Everybody get set," announced Connelly. "We're gonna do a little evasive flying." He yanked the stick, and the biplane commenced flying.
Both choppers had been gaining on them.
Connelly's plane went roaring upward, banked, and then executed a series of loops and dives which considerably confused the opposition.
Kirk didn't know how much longer he could keep his grip on the wing strut. This was like something out of an old air show, and he really wasn't in shape for it.
Connelly had gained some distance on the helicopters. Now he was diving toward the desert. About three miles dead ahead loomed a high ridge of orange and gold rock. He seemed to be directing his ancient plane straight for it.
"Doctors!" he shouted. "What do they know? This is the only way to live!"
"Speaking of living," shouted Cox, using his hands like a megaphone, "we'd like to continue with it."
"No fear, smart ass."
One of the copters was cutting the distance, chuffing up on them. And the second wasn't far behind.
"Going to be a humdinger!" Connelly was roaring right for the rocky ridge. "Hold your noses!"
All at once there was a blinding cloud of white pouring out of the tail of the plane. Connelly had released his crop dusting chemicals, and very swiftly the stuff was swirling all around.533Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq5DaEGsTiV
Connelly again tugged on the stick, and the biplane climbed. Climbed enough to clear the ridge.
The choppers were not so lucky, though. They collided in the fog of chemical spray and went plummeting downward.
On the other side of the ridge, Connelly leveled out and bobbed his head up and down with satisfaction. "Now, that's what I call flying!"533Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFzPygBjRNw
"It is, it is," agreed Cox, as he helped Kirk climb into the cockpit.
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