Tom Swift and His Dyna-4 Capsule by Victor Appleton II

I’m not so sure. Gar told me Eck’s willing to kill to get whatever kind of life he wants. That probably means he’s already done it. People think they deserve things, but really..." She looked at Bud curiously. "So you’re dating his sister?"
    "We hang out."
    " We hung out. Doesn’t it make it awkward?"
    "Because of you?"
    "Because of him ."
    Bud chuckled, with an eye-roll. "Reb, I can’t believe you! Jetz, you’re jealous of my relationship with my best pal? "
    "It happens," she declared sullenly. "You save each other’s lives, don’t you? I keep up on it. I’ve read those books."
    "Right. The fictionalizations. Look, you can’t—"
    "Well, let’s just drop the subject. Since it obviously makes you uncomfortable." Rose Reb’s attention seemed to drift away. "Sometimes I think... I’m absorbing the black. From my hair. It seeps down and fills my head. You have black hair. I thought..." The thought halted there.
    At Bud’s initiative they stood up and began to stroll side by side, down a street, aimless in the ersatz night. "So," Bud began, "I’m being held hostage. But why down here?—well, jetz, I guess it was convenient, hunh?"
    "I guess so. Gar told me the doors are all sealed off. He says it’s hard to even find them. And if you had a radio or locator beacon, the signal would be blocked off."
    "So what about you? His true love?"
    "Don’t ridicule another person’s vulnerability, please. Yeah, I trusted him and he stole my gem of purity by betrayal. After he dumped you off, he had me stay in a motel overnight while he went to see Eck. When he came back a couple hours ago he pulled a gun on me and held a cloth over my face—he did both ! Knocked me flat. I woke up on Second Street. Lying there right on the pavement."
    "Face it, Reb," said Bud. "You’ve been dumped."
    "Bud, I heard you, up there—yelling."
    "Guess I’m a little vulnerable too."
    "It’s nice ," she said. But then added sharply, "But you know, Beeb, it’s not what I’d call masculine . You’re not a boy ."
    "What am I, Reb?"
    "I never found out."
    They walked in silence for a time, Bud wondering tensely what Rose Reb was thinking—and becoming fearful of what she might do. The quaint steetlamps were on, and some of the higher-story apartments were softly lit behind drapes and half-closed blinds. Bud thought: This could almost be romantic.
    "This could almost be romantic, Beeb," she purred, taking his hand.
    With someone other than Reb! his thoughts finished.
    "I can understand why I’m down here," he said. "For all I know it may be a great plan. Who am I to criticize it? But what about you?"
    "The wedding’s off."
    "Uh-huh."
    "I’m just rendering up my feelings. Who knows how I’ll feel tomorrow? Who knows tomorrow at all? I could be dead tomorrow. Or you."
    "Is that a New Goth attitude?"
    She glared at him. "Check your own attitude, chum! Flyboy! Did you ever notice that he calls you boy , not man ?—in the books, anyway. If you were any kind of real man, if you didn’t have conflicted impulses—" She shut herself down for a moment. "But... you asked me a question... about something...
    "Oh. Why I’m here. Well, really, I don’t know. Not for ransom. My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Alva Truncheon, wouldn’t consider anything like that . They wouldn’t pay. Oh no. It wouldn’t be worth the time to make a ransom note, cutting all those letters out of newspapers."
    "So you have no idea?"
    Reb suddenly giggled, explosively. "Maybe it’s just to torture you!"
    "R-Reb, I’m really not worth it. I mean it."
    "You don’t have to mean it. Enjoy life. Make peace with Time."
    "I’ll sure do my best."
    Reb seemed to tug Bud along, and the young flier did not resist. There was a veloured black purse dangling from her arm; when it bounced against her side, Bud could hear pill containers rattling like maracas. After a couple streets and a couple turns, she pointed at a modest two-story hotel, the Bateman Arms. "I woke up in the street