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He couldn't see much. The lights were just too faint. But he could see enough to realize the guy was using both hands, now. The woman's head was clamped between them, and he was pulling her toward the window. |
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John knew he was about to go down. |
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He waved his arm, struggling against gravity and unconsciousness, and managed to correct the direction of his fall. |
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Onto the moving body. It dropped, trapped against the seat and wall. Some glass in the woman's face cut John's cheek. |
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He wrapped his arms around her. |
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He was vaguely aware of commotion around him. There were shouts. The edge of the table shook against his side. More sounds of breaking glass. Then people were pulling at his legs. He held onto the woman. Together, they slid over the cushion. Her legs went out from under him. His knees followed, jabbing into them, and he murmured 'Sorry' and tried to get off her. |
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He released her. Then he was carried backward and lowered to the floor. |
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Someone bending over him. Lynn. |
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'Oh, you idiot. You fool.' |
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'I didn't . . . let 'im get her.' |
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'No, you didn't. God, John.' |
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