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with the steel pegs at its top and bottom, shoving open the door on the left, grabbing the first crazy to squeeze in, and taking him down while Terry and Rafe jerked the door shut again by tugging on the table cloth they'd passed through its handle. |
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They'd killed one intruder. He was a skinny, giggling man who came in swinging a crowbar. As John chopped his arm, Gus jammed a steak knife into the side of the guy's neck and severed the carotid artery. |
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'Let's not kill them if we don't have to,' John had said while they dragged the body out of the way. |
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'We don't kill 'em, what'll we do with 'em?' Gus wanted to know. He was the one who'd called John a pansy. |
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'Let's try to disable them, then maybe tie them up.' |
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'Great. That how you handled the VC? No wonder we lost the fuckin' war.' |
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'This isn't a war. These people are just like us except they happened to get caught in the rain.' |
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'Like a mutt happens to get rabies.' |
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'John's right,' Steve said. 'We should try to take them alive if we can.' |
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'More risky that way,' said Roscoe the chef. |
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'Fuckin' right, more risky.' |
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'I'll handle the next one,' John told them. |
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The next one had charged into the restaurant with a knife in each hand. John broke both his arms, then his nose. The screaming man was dragged into the cocktail lounge where people huddled over him and bound his feet. |
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