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engine was still running, but the sudden encounter with the cement curb had ruptured a gas line. A pool of pungent pinkish fuel was starting to trickle toward me. |
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"Stay where you are," Jake thundered. |
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I peeked up over the curb and felt the gasoline seep into the sleeve of my jacket. Except for the sound of the sputtering Z, the street was silent. Nothing was moving, Gradually the chaos began to fragment into isolated bits of discernible detail. The front window of the market was shattered. Huge shards of splintered glass cluttered the sidewalk. Across the street, behind Madden, a man darted from one building to the next. He had a rifle. Then I saw another, but he disappeared in the fog. |
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"See anything?" Jake bellowed. |
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"What the hell am I supposed to be looking for?" |
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"That damn thing we shot in the woodsit's alive!" |
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The words sent a cold chill rocketing up my spine and into my neck like a runaway freight train. What was he talking about? That thing we shot in the woods was dead. I'd seen itcold and stiff and very, very full of big gaping holes. I'd even touched it. |
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A response was probably forthcoming, I'm still not quite sure, because it never got past the formulation stage. It all happened too suddenly. There was a sound like an |
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