“You’re going to take that stupid cat, right? You promised.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Are you two just going to sit there and argue until they find us?” asked Charlotte. She was trying to sound annoyed, but knowing that she was going to be reunited very soon with her husband had made her giddy beyond belief.

“Of course,” Roger said. “What else would we do?”

“You could shut up and let me watch TV in peace,” I said. “My hand hurts, and my shoulder hurts, and my eyes hurt, and I’d rather you just went someplace else.”

“I love you,” Roger told me.

“I love you, too. Go away.”

Roger patted me on the non-injured shoulder and left the room. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and dozed until I heard the rescue helicopter overhead.

HEY, I found the tape recorder! It doesn’t look like there’s much tape left, so I’d just like to say that we made it. Not all of us, I’m sad to report, but most of us.

Gosh, I really don’t know what I should say to sum up this whole adventure. There were quite a few moments when I didn’t think I was going to make it out alive. It really does give you a new perspective on things, coming that close to death.

Actually, I do know what I want to say, if you’ll forgive me getting all deep and meaningful. All of you out there, please, make a promise to yourself that no matter what happens, no matter what path your life takes, you’ll never forget that the most important thing is-

[Tape ends.]

Jeff Strand

Jeff Strand grew up in Alaska, where he his parents insist that he had a normal childhood, no matter what you might think after reading his novels. His outrageously warped books include Graverobbers Wanted (No Experience Necessary), Single White Psychopath Seeks Same, How to Rescue a Dead Princess, Elrod McBugle on the Loose, and Out of Whack.

He’s President of the Electronically Published Internet Connection, an international organization of professional authors, which he rules with an iron fist and a wooden paddle. He’s also “host for life” of the annual EPPIES awards banquet, which gives him the opportunity to act goofy in front of a large audience and wear a tuxedo, not necessarily in that order.

Jeff lives in Tampa, Florida with one wife and one mentally questionable cat. In his day job he’s a remittance processing analyst, which is even more exciting than it sounds. He’s currently working on the third Andrew Mayhem novel, Casket For Sale, Only Used Once. Plot details remain top-secret, although he does confide that the third installment “may be a bit weird.”