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afraid to use those guns if there's trouble.' He pulled out the ignition key. Then he dragged the shotgun across his lap. He climbed out, locked the door, and shut it. |
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As he stepped past the rear of his car, he heard thumping from the trunk. His prisoner. He wondered if she had enough air. |
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Don't want her to suffocate, he thought. |
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So he propped the shotgun against the bumper and unlocked the trunk. The lid sprang up, shoved by the girl. 'Hey!' he yelled as she scurried to her knees. 'Get down!' |
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She snarled. Before she could leap, his fist caught the point of her chin. Her arms flew out. Her head snapped back and rang against the underside of the trunk lid. As she started to slump away from him, he reached in. With both hands, he grabbed the shoulder straps of her jumper. He tugged her forward and down so the lid wouldn't hit her, then slammed it shut. |
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'Damn!' he gasped. He struggled for air. |
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Just trying to be a nice guy, and she goes for me! |
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He felt angry and betrayed, but mostly he felt scared. |
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As if he'd offered a nice chunk of meat to a stray dog, and the damn thing had turned into Cujo. |
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Should've expected it, he told himself. He picked up the shotgun. Consider it a lesson. Don't trust anyone, and watch your ass or they'll take it apart for you. |
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Still shaken by the encounter, Trev stepped around |
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