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'I think Mom's starting to wake up,' Lisa said. |
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'The guns! You've got the revolver and shotgun back there! Get rid of them! Throw them out the window!' |
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'Don't let your Mom get them!' |
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Trev struggled to sit up. He reached under the hanging tail of Sandy's coat, clutched her leg, and pulled at it. She wobbled a little, but held steady. Then she bent down. She grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged. He squirmed and kicked, and came to rest with his rump on the window. The car wobbled slightly as he slumped backward against its ceiling. |
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He turned his head toward the rear and found Francine close enough to touch. She was slumped against the side of the car, face against the window. She was moaning softly. The darkness hid her eyes. He couldn't tell whether they were shut or open. |
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Lisa was half standing, her back to Trev, right foot on the window sill below her mother's chin, left knee propped on the woman's hip. As he watched, she tossed the shotgun underhand through the high, narrow gap of the rear window. Its barrel clamored against the open lid of the trunk, bounced back toward the window and dropped out of sight. |
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Trev remembered the girl he'd left there. |
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The right rear of the car must've taken a terrible impact to pop open the trunk that way. |
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She can't be alive, he thought. |
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