Lance was tired of killing Crocs, but fear kept him awake.
He jammed his harpoon into their brains, one by one, until strawberry filling came out. It wasn’t appetizing.
If done correctly, their eyes turned milky white, and they sank beneath the surface.
Then, they got eaten.
Lance stared at the shore.
Miami looked like hell.
There were no palms on palm beach.
Cape Canaveral was a primitive launch site, with a rocket pointing to Mars.
“Are we there yet?” The woman asked from the bottom of the boat.
“Nearly,” Lance said.
“Hey, that’s a big spaceship.”
“What’s your plan?”
“We get off this rock, before it burns up.”
She looked at him. “You can’t fly that thing.”
“There’s no need. It’s automatic, right down to the delivery.”
“You trust that?”
“No choice. The atmosphere is burning up. It’s hard to breathe, because the ozone is on fire.”
Lance helped her out of the boat and they waded to shore.
The problem was, getting past the magnetic locks.
The red launch tower took them up to the driver-side door.
“What happened to the astronauts?”
“They went to Mars,” Dean said. “This rocket is much older. It hasn’t been approved for lift-off. Let’s hope that I can jimmy the lock.”
“You can do that?”
“I’ve stolen enough cars in my day. The trick will be, making sure the door stays closed when we leave earth’s atmosphere.”
To be continued…