SPACE KITE
IN SPITE of her tight grip on the steering wheel, Phyl was hurled sideways out of her seat and slammed against the dashboard. Tom’s head struck the windshield. Both were knocked unconscious.
Minutes went by before Tom regained his senses. A trickle of blood from his forehead was running down into his left eye. Tom brushed it away, still somewhat dazed. Then he heard a moan beside him.
“Phyl!”
Alarm over her safety helped shock Tom back to full consciousness. Phyl was slumped against him. Her eyes were closed and there was a bruise on her right temple. Tom shook her gently and chafed her wrists.
“Phyll” he repeated urgently. “Wake up!” As
she opened her eyes, he asked, “Are you all right?”
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22 COSMIC ASTRONAUTS
“I-I hope so.” She tried to smile. “I’m sorry, Tom.”
“It wasn’t your fault. That boneheaded truck driver slammed on his brakes without warning and we crashed into him!” For the first time, Tom realized that the truck was nowhere in sight. He scowled. “Apparently the guy cleared out without even offering to help us!”
Suddenly Tom had a fleeting suspicion that the accident might have been caused on purpose. But he decided not to alarm Phyl.
“No bones broken?” Tom inquired in sympathetic concern.
“G-guess not.” Phyl winced and touched her shoulder gingerly. “I’ll bet I’m black and blue, though! My shoulder must have whacked against the dashboard.”
Before Tom could reply, her expression changed abruptly. She had just noticed the red smear on his forehead. “Tom! You’re cut!” Phyl gasped, instantly forgetting her own bruises.
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