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But he knew he had to get wet. He had to be like them. |
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If the rain got him, he might lose control. He might never make it to the Chidi house. |
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He twisted away from the open door, spotted his plastic hood crumpled on the far edge of the seat, reached back and grabbed it, then snatched Patterson's cowboy hat up off the floor. His shotgun was there. He made a quick decision to leave it. The 12-gauge would require both hands. Besides, a blast from that would almost certainly be fatal, and he didn't want to kill any of the girls. |
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He pulled the bag over his head, blind for a moment until he found the eyeholes, then jammed the Stetson down to hold it in place. |
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He crawled across the seat and climbed out. |
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Sandy was sprawled on top of the girl from the trunk. Lisa had one of the girl's arms pinned to the street. Sandy was trying to sit up. |
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Her trench coat was wide open, still on her shoulders but leaving the rest of her body naked except for her socks and sneakers as she pushed backward at the pavement. Her skin gleamed black under the streetlight. Trev stared at her, feeling an unexpected rush of heat. Then he hurried forward, careful not to step on any legs. He ducked down, grabbed Sandy's coat by the shoulders, and pulled her up. |
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She threw herself against him. As he staggered backward a step and braced himself, Sandy ripped open his shirt. He felt her fingernails through the thin |
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