Snyder stumbled out of the metro car and onto the high, windy platform. He peered at the San Diego skyline. He’d grabbed the first high speed monorail headed out of town. Guess it’d gone pretty far out of town.
Mama’s going to be worried.
Snyder frowned. “You’re looking out for you now, remember?”
He jumped down the pressurized air shaft, bounced out onto the street level, and stumbled into the Irish pub next door. Snyder walked up to the bar. “I want Scotch.”
The bartender poured Snyder a glass.
Snyder said, “Save yourself time, leave me the bottle.”
The bartender said, “No thanks.”
“I can hold my liquor, and I’ll pay for the whole bottle with a generous tip included.”
The bartender waved a wand tag reader over the bottle and Snyder’s right wrist. “And the tip?”
“Just keep the liquor coming.”
After two full bottles, whatever problems had led Snyder here drifted away in a haze.
Continued Next Thursday
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