"Selo!" he half-screamed and staggered to his feet. "Selo," he cried, and remembered his sense of being followed.
Was it the wind among the tortured rocks, or did he hear a high-pitched woman's laugh?
"Selo," he shouted, "I didn't mean to hit you! Selo, you've got to help me!"
Silence.
He began to run.
Exhausted as he was, he must have run for nearly an hour before the unbearable burden of his thirst pushed him down into the granular cushion of the Desert Rouge. A million orange and red parasites clustered on his body and drew out the last drop of his vitality.
Morrissey sighed and stepped closer to the Venusian woman. He felt sure that the clever technicians in Athens would get no story from her.
Two accidental deaths. That would be the verdict.
Morrissey took Selo's arm as she half-stumbled in the shifting dust.