Hard Guy - Howard Carleton Browne

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1:06When you're ready to slow down, especially before bed, listen to Soul Good Sounds. We create calming audio, ambient soundscapes, and peaceful listening experiences designed to help you relax, unwind, and fall asleep. Search Soul Good Sounds wherever you listen to podcasts. That's S-O-L-G-O-O-D sounds. Soul Good Sounds rest well. Hard Guy by H.B. Carrollton. He was standing at the side of the glass side super highway. His arm half raised, pinpoint in the same direction as that of the approaching rocket car. Ordinarily, Fredded Martin would have passed a hitchhiker without stopping, but there was something in the bearing in appearance of this one that caused him to apply his brakes. Martin opened the door next to the vacant seat behind him. Going my way, he asked? A pair of steady, unsmining blue eyes looked him over.

2:09Yeah. All right, then hop in. The hitchhiker took his time. He slid into the seat with casual deliberateness and slammed the car door shut. The rocket car got underway once more. They rode in silence for half a mile or so. Finally, Martin glanced questioningly at his companion's expressionless profile. Where are you heading for? He asked? Then, Tonville, he spoke from the corner of his mouth without turning his head. Oh yes, that's the next town, isn't it? Yeah. Not very communicative, reflective, Martin noticing the rather ragged condition of the other's seal of the next clothing. Have much trouble getting rides? The passenger turned his head, his blue eyes without a motion. Yeah, most guys are leery about picking up hitchhikers. Scared they'll get raw.

3:10Martin purses lips, nodded. Something to that, all right? I'm pretty careful myself, but I figured you looked okay. Can't always tell by looks what's the com reply? Of course, as guys mostly pick out some guy with a swell atomic mobile if we're going to pull a stick up. When we see all heath like this, one, there's usually enough to him, enough dough to make it pay. Martin felt his jaw drop. Say, you sound like you go in for that sort of thing. I'm telling you right now, I haven't enough cash on me to make it worth your while. I'm just a salesman, trying to get along. You got nothing to worry about. His passenger assured him. Stick-ups aren't my racket. An audible sigh of relief escaped Martin. I'm certainly glad to hear that. What is your racket anyway?

4:14The blue eyes frosted over. Look, Chum, sometimes it ain't exactly healthy to ask questions like that. Hard in me, Martin said hastily. I didn't mean anything. It's not of my business, of course. The calm eyes flickered over his contrite expression. Skip it, pal. You look like a right guy. I'll put you next to something. Only keep your lip buttoned. See? Oh, absolutely. I'm Mike Egan. Head of the straddle rovers. No, Martin was plainly odd. The straddle rovers A, I've heard of them all right. The utter nodded complacently. Yeah, we're about the toughest mob this side of Mars. We don't bother honest people, though. We get hours from the crooks and racketiers. They can't squeal to the interplanetary police. There's a lot in what you say, a great Martin.

5:16And of course, that puts your mob in the Robin Hood class. Robin Hood nuts. That guy was a duped, running around with bows and arrows. Why, we got a mystery raid that paralyzes anybody that starts up with us. They are all right when it wears off. But by the time we get away, Martin was properly impressed. A mystery raid. With a weapon like that, you should be able to walk into a bag and clean it out without any trouble. His passengers lips curled. I told you, we don't bother honest people. We even help the SP sometimes. Right now, we're working with the Ertmar's G-Man in round and up a gang of fifth columnists that are planning on taking over the government. They're led by the Black Hornet. This Black Hornet goes around pretending like he's a big businessman.

6:17But he's really a international spy. A what? A international spy. Repeated Martin's companion shortly. The E.M. G-Man say he's the most dangerous man in the country. But he won't last long with the Strata Robress on his trail. Martin nodded. I can believe that. Tell me, Egan, what are you doing out here around a smaller town like Dentonville? The government's building some kind of a ammunition place near here. And I understand the Black Hornets figuring on wreck and everything. Of course, he won't get away with it. Scattered plastic aid houses on either side of the road indicated they had reached the outskirts of Dentonville. Mike Egan pointed ahead to a small white house set back among a cluster of trees. There's where I'm holed up. Drop me in front. A young woman in a faded blue satin glass,

7:20house dressed, was standing at the gate of the white picket fence. She watched in silence as the passenger stepped from the rocket car and lifted his hand to the driver in careless farewell. Thanks for the lift, Chum, said Mike Egan. Not at all, replied Martin. Glad to have been of service to Mike Egan. The woman smiled to him. He's told you his name, I see. Martin lifted his hat. Indeed he has. Michelle is alright, she said. I do think though that he reached too many Bach Gordon interplanetary comic books for a boy of eleven. End of title. By H.V. Carrollton.