Dominant Species Volume One -- Natural Selection (Dominant Species Series) by David Coy Page A

looks
were dirty looks, so Mary couldn’t tell if she was getting one now as a direct
result of what just happened or not. She could sense the tension in Bailey from
the sight of the thing’s big ugly head. It didn’t whistle, confirming what she
knew already that it wasn’t them they’d be taking. When it moved away from the
hole, Mary gave it the finger, careful not to let the good see it.
    Gilbert’s
head appeared in the opening next, and he crooked a finger at Mary to come
over. He’d never stoop to actually entering her domain, Mary was sure of it.
She had some words for this sonofabitch.
    “You
shouldn’t do that,” he said.
    “Don’t
wag your finger at me.”
    Gilbert
seemed to think about it, but gave away nothing of what he was thinking. He had
the very annoying habit of tagging key words or phrases with an interrogative
so that everything he said sounded like he was apologizing for it.
    “You
shouldn’t . . . yell? . . . at them.”
    “Why not?
Am I gonna get my brains sucked out if I do? What a laugh! Besides, it’s just a
matter of time before I’m dead and you’re dead, so to hell with it. If I go off
once in a while, I’m sure you’ll understand.”
    “You
might . . . survive? . . . if you don’t do anything to cause trouble? . . . for
me or the others?”
    “What do
you mean ‘cause trouble’? Are you nuts? You are aren’t you? Don’t you realize where you are? What in the fuck
could I do to endanger you more than you are already? You’re stupid.”
    “You
shouldn’t be so rude.” He pushed his big, aviator- style glasses up on his nose
and wiped the corners of his mouth with his thumb and middle finger. “That’s
not right. And I wish you wouldn’t use the ‘F’ word.”
    You sanctimonious prick! She thought. “How dare you—
that’s it. Listen to me, you shit. I’ve been using the ‘fuck’ word since I
could speak. I don’t think I’ll stop now just to spare your pious ears.”
    Mary was
livid. She felt her cheeks growing hot. That’s the way it was with the
religious. The priorities were all too often distorted and artificial.
    Gilbert
just looked away and thought.
    Mary
suddenly wondered if he had any real empathy for anyone. Something about his
voice was too damn sincere. Apologizing for everything he said was his way of oh-so-gently
getting you to swallow every lame little phrase that came out of his mouth. He
was wiser, more holy than thou, it had to be so.
    “Got any
more . . . ideas? You know, any single thing that might be . . . useful? . . .
to us?” she asked, mocking him with her own interrogatives. She paused, waited.
“Well? Do you? If not, get the fuck away from my door.”
    Gilbert
didn’t leave, he just looked away and Mary knew that the thin relationship
they’d had, had just taken a turn for the worse. He was thinking how much he
hated her, and Mary could feel it like infra-red. She could feel his mind
racing, rationalizing his point of view in broad sweeps when a thoughtful
person would have simply walked away. His hatred for her had nothing whatsoever
to do with this incident, either. He wouldn’t look her in the eyes, and Mary
was sure of it. So ultra-cautious. A perfect liar. He hated her. He couldn’t
have said it with words and said it better, but he didn’t have the guts to say
it out loud. She did.
    “You
know, I bet I could beat your bony ass to a pulp,” she said evenly.
    She was
positioned in the opening like a cat and could leap out at him at chest level
and easily knock him down. Then she’d clamp her hands around his neck and crush
it, just like the big bastard almost did to Fred. She draped one strong arm
over her knee and tensed it and stared and let that soak in, too.
    The
statement was intended to shock him and mess with his mind. Running with the
rowdy boys of Trader had honed the ability to insult, to bluff or to fight well
at an early age and she was pleased with the result of this little interaction.
    How do
you