"Up there," Alan agreed, and they set off, kicking droplets of dew off
the grass beside the sidewalk.
The sunrise was a thousand times more striking from atop the climber,
filtered through the new shoots on the tree branches. Kurt lit a
cigarette and blew plumes into the shafting light and they admired the
effect of the wind whipping it away.
"I think this will work," Alan said. "We'll do something splashy for the
press, get a lot of people to change the names of their networks -- more
people will use the networks, more will create them... It's a good
plan."
Kurt nodded. "Yeah. We're smart guys."
Something smashed into Alan's head and bounced to the dirt below the
climber. A small, sharp rock. Alan reeled and tumbled from the climber,
stunned, barely managing to twist to his side before landing. The air
whooshed out of his lungs and tears sprang into his eyes.
Gingerly, he touched his head. His fingers came away wet. Kurt was
shouting something, but he couldn't hear it. Something moved in the
bushes, moved into his line of sight. Moved deliberately into his line
of sight.
Danny. He had another rock in his hand and he wound up and pitched
it. It hit Alan in the forehead and his head snapped back and he
grunted.
Kurt's feet landed in the dirt a few inches from his eyes, big boots
a-jangle with chains. Davey flitted out of the bushes and onto the
plastic rocking-horses, jumping from the horse to the duck to the
chicken, leaving the big springs beneath them to rock and creak.
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