Anotherthumplanded, along with atinkjust beyond the fire. The reverberations shook the air, and they dove for cover.
Lance went on full alert, peering into the darkness. Rain misted down around them, stars still sparkling in the clear sky.
“What the hell?” Juice Box shrieked.
Fuck.
Not rain.
Beer.
Lance shot to his feet, Pony at his heels, darting for the keg, watching for more incoming—incomingwhat?
Beer spewed out the broken connector on top of the keg, the whole thing coated in stringy orange gunk.
Pumpkin guts.
“That’s my keg,” Pony yelped. “That’s myhomebrew.”
“How do we stop it?” Lance said.
Beer coated his shirt and stuck to his hair and misted through the air. Someone popped up with a flashlight. Pony grabbed the pumpkin-slimed connector on the hose and yanked.
It didn’t budge.
“That’s fucking disgusting.” He grunted andyanked again, and the connector popped off.
A spray of beer shot straight in the air, then bubbled down to a slow runoff and stopped.
“Are we under attack?” Juice Box said.
“Where’d it come from?” Lance said. “Juicy! What did you see? Where did it come from?”
“Ah, that way.” He pointed west. “I think.”
Lance took off at a jog, senses alert for pumpkins or other flying objects. He could make out a glow in the distance—a flashlight? Car lights?—but in the dark, he couldn’t judge how far off it was. Yelling might make them stop.
Or it might tell the enemy where he was.
Probably stupid rednecks out joy-flinging. “Hey!” he yelled. “Who’s there?”
Pumpkins didn’t just fall from the sky.
Well, they could. But usually it would’ve been his crew dropping them off the ramp of his C-130, and much as the guys would’veloved that, they still only dropped cargo, official or unofficial, when approved by the proper figures, and only under controlled circumstances.
There weren’t any missions flying on base tonight. Aero Club wasn’t running either. And they weren’t under any of the normal patterns for the closest local airport.
“Put the pumpkins down,” Lance called into the darkness while he continued to jog toward the dim light. “There are kids back here.”
“Oh,no. Y’all got kids over there? They’re not hurt, are they? We didn’t mean to hurt ’em. I just got really bad aim, and I swear I thought I was facing the other direction, and?—”
His heart slammed to a stop and his groin twitched. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He knew that voice.
Those sassy tones had been haunting himfor hours.
“Oh, no,” she said again.
