Whatever the Hog's nature, I felt that I could kill him by the most effective method of destroying nearly any life form, perforation. The Maggiese had failed by using crude weapons.
VIII: SIXDAY MORNING
Several rodents crossed the gravel street. I said, "These toothies are a problem, aren't they?"
Rasmussen wore a mottled green and brown sack and stockings gartered above his knees. An eyeshade projected from his forehead. "Not so many as once," he panted. "Sometimes gnawed down houses."
Rasmussen carried a firearm on a strap over his shoulder. I carried the hisser, the robotic, and a pack containing many items often useless but sometimes essential. Joe's Sun glinted into our eyes through cracks in the wall ahead and sparkled on puddles of rainwater.
"Betty Toal lives here," Rasmussen said. He struck his stick against a door in a long, log structure with identical doors spaced at ten-meter intervals. He tried the handle and said, "Not home. Probably has gone to her garden."
We walked on down the street. I said, "An air hunt will be best. It's a good way with large animals."
Rasmussen said, "Saw the wrecked jetcopter at the field? The shuttle would be a poor way to hunt."
"No aircraft on the whole planet? Well, then, a car."