After observing him for a few confused minutes, minds racing, the bow-curled bulk of him in a stilled, quiet lump on the hood—in panic, Mike had the ropes cut, the overhead green completely cut off. The inert mass of the big muscled alien unravelling, he slid off the car onto the ground in a senseless, slag-like heap. Had they killed him?
While he was out, they decided to strip him completely, tone down the green lights, which was even making them a little woozy… hosed him off and refastened his bonds. (They had been warned not to keep him under too long. Twenty, thirty minutes at most, then go down to half power. It could be dangerous for all concerned. A stratagem that hadn’t been tried before.)
The stolen dark red car screeched to a halt inside the rundown warehouse. Two masked teenage boys jumped out. The smaller one hastily ran to the entrance and began closing the huge metal door, miffed that the automatic opener had worked, but the closing part hadn’t. They’d be in big trouble if any further foul-ups occurred! Especially further electricals. I mean heck, their plan was foolproof.
