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man slamming the face of a teenaged boy against the top of a fire hydrant. He saw a woman clamped to a storefront wall by a man's forearm across her throat while the guy rammed a pocket knife into her belly. |
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'LET'S GET THE DRY ONES!' Christie shouted. |
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It seemed like a fine idea to Chet. It seemed fitting, somehow. |
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Apparently, the idea appealed to the others as well. They ceased their struggles, let go of one another. Some fell to the sidewalk. Some didn't get up. Those were left behind as the faint shapes of the others approached. |
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With Christie and Chet in the lead, they rushed under the marquee. The dry ones were already in flight, a few racing away, running out from under the shelter and into the rain themselves, but most seeking the safety of the theater, yelling as they pushed through the glass door, knocking aside the flustered teenaged boy whose job was to take their tickets. |
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One man remained in front of the ticket booth, shouting at the girl inside the glass enclosure to hurry. As he reached into the opening for his ticket, Christie smashed his head against the glass. The glass didn't break. Not that time. But Christie, Chet and a pregnant woman used the man for a battering ram, driving his head against the ticket booth until the glass disintegrated. |
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They hurled the man aside. The pregnant woman fell upon him. |
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Inside the booth, the ticket girl was turning in circles, her eyes bulging, her mouth hanging open. She |
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