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And cried out 'NO!' as the girl from the trunk hooked an arm under Sandy's chin and tried to drag her from the car. |
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Not dead. The crash had freed the teenager, not killed her. |
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At least she hasn't got the guns, Trev thought. |
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He heard himself groan as he watched the raindrops splatter black against Sandy's face and coat and chest. She was stretched out straight, only her rump and legs still on the car seat, the girl tugging at her head. She writhed and kicked against Trev's restraining hands. |
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He let go of one ankle and reached for his revolver. Her other ankle jerked free. Her legs slid away from him. He snatched the weapon from its holster. He brought it up, hating what he had to do, feeling betrayed by the girl he'd tried to save, thinking It's her or Sandy but knowing it was already too late for Sandy as he pointed his .38 at the girl's chest just above the bib of her jumper and tried to find the trigger through his slippery plastic mitten and Lisa threw open her door. |
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Ignoring him, she leaped out into the rain at the same moment Sandy's thrashing legs dropped toward the pavement. The girl from the trunk couldn't handle a woman of Sandy's size. She fell backward, pulling Sandy down on top of her. Lisa rushed at them, Her pale sweater looked as if it were being eaten by the darkness. She dropped to her knees beside the two, and tried to tug the girl's arm away from Sandy's throat. |
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Trev, holstering his weapon, crawled across the seat. |
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Don't do it, he told himself. Get your hood on first. |
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