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be careful and don't let Terry get his hands on it. There's a box of bullets in the top dresser drawer, so make sure you get that, too.' |
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John groaned and kept moving. |
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God, he wished he had a gun in the house. He hated the things. He had vowed never to use one again. And he'd always felt secure in the knowledge that he rarely left Lynn and Kara by themselves. He worked at home. When he went out, they usually came with him. And he always figured he could defend them, if the need arose, without using a firearm. |
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He rammed open the men's room door. It just missed crashing into someone about to come out. |
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'Take it easy, partner,' the guy said. |
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Inside, a young man in a corduroy jacket was bent over, holding onto the sides of the sink and gazing at his face in the mirror. He didn't look away from his reflection when John and Steve entered. |
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John stepped up to the sink beside him. 'How you doing?' he asked, starting to wash his hands. |
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The kid kept staring into his own eyes. |
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He was about twenty. He sported a thin, blond mustache which was probably meant to make him look older. |
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'Everything'll be OK,' John said. |
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The kid looked at him. 'We're all gonna die.' |
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'It's not that bad. I know how you're feeling, but it's not that bad. What's your name?' |
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