by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in The Daily Grind, April 2019
Sunny reached for the strap of her ecto-pack, but before she could pull the bulky piece of technology out of the sedan’s hatchback, an imperious feline voice rang out from the driver’s seat: “What do you think you’re doing?”
Sunny mumbled something about gearing up, but Ripley, the small white cat who was the de facto leader of the Ecto-Busters, cut the yellow lab off. “You don’t need an ecto-pack to run into a cafe and pick up a quick snack.”