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A kid. Just a kid. A girl in a jumper and knee socks. |
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The revolver, tossed by Lisa, clunked against the trunk and fell. |
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If she's not dead, we've just given her two guns. |
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Francine raised her head. Trev leaned toward her and pounded it down. It struck the window with a thud, and the woman went limp. |
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'What'd you do?' Lisa blurted, looking around at him. |
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'Hit your mom. We can't have her waking up and going crazy on us.' |
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'I'm sorry,' he muttered. |
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Fingers suddenly clenched Trev's hair. 'Hey,' Sandy said. 'I got me an idea. Why don't we see we can't knock the car back down on its wheels? Get on up here.' She pulled his hair. |
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Trev stood up, his back rubbing along the ceiling. |
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Sandy maneuvered until she was standing in front of him. She pressed her body against his. 'Give me a hug,' she said. |
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He wrapped his arms around her. |
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'Lisa,' she said, 'you stand there on the back door. On the count of three, we'll hit the seats. Trevor, you just throw me backward hard as you can. Lisa, tackle your seat.' She pushed her cheek against the side of Trev's face. |
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'I guess I'm ready,' Lisa said. |
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'Here we go. One, two, three!' |
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Trev rammed Sandy backward, smashing her |
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