He had an amazingly deep voice, that was almost seductive in tone. His eyes kept jumping back and forth between Didi and Liz. "Bonnie and I have to go back and pack up to move down here. You sure you don't mind, Mrs. Forner?" Call me Liz, Abe. And no, not at all. That gunfight scared the hell out of me." She glanced quickly at Bob and Ricky, smiling. "No matter how much fun it was for you two." She licked her lips, and the whole family giggled. Abe looked confused, but Bonnie picked up on the implications. Now this could be fun, she thought.They spent the afternoon in the jungle. Ricky had tried to carry her bag, but Bonnie elbowed him away, muttering "I can handle it, pal. What do we wear in the jungle?" Ricky grinned at her, and she gave him a little smirk back. "As little as possible. It's hot in midday, and there aren't too many bugs." Bonnie pulled her black thong bikini on, wanting to show off a little for the tall young Army Ranger. She could tell by the way he moved and. If he had calculated right, he should begin to feel something at forty-five seconds. A quick glance at the counter confirmed it. Forty seconds on the dot, and he already had a growing headache. With nitrogen racing to the engines, the machine was forced to a breakneck pace in seconds, turning faster and faster, humming deafeningly as it spun. The g-forces increased with each revolution, as did the pain in his head. Richard had constructed his seat on a series of bearings that allowed it to move proportionately to the machine. Acting as a sort of free-moving gear ratio, it compensated for the Dream Cleaner’s fantastic spin, keeping him in one piece. Without it, he would have been torn to shreds in seconds. He only hoped now that his handiwork held. Grasping the throw handles on the dash in both hands, he watched the counter. Sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six–timing was critical, it meant the difference between freedom and death. At seventy-one seconds exactly, he jerked the handles.
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