Pool_2

contingencies. His hand felt for the guns stuffed under the front seat. Gas takes long. He fondled the guns. Ever wait on boiling water? Nice piece. Registration marks gone. Or a block of ice melting? He purposely layered the gas flow by getting the hose down to the floor. Maybe that wasn't a good idea, not just spray it in there. Letting it build slowly into a big pocket in a quiet room. Air conditioning! He remembered seeing window units in several windows. Bad or good? "Maybe that'll help hide the odor." Many thoughts were climbing one over the other. Gas takes long. Autumn leaves turn faster. Let's listen, he said to himself. This time he heard, "How did she get her hands on these pictures? Think about it. Gotta be a connection. Mail threat, my ass. She is pure bull shit. Should we whack her here?" Someone else was shouting, " Shut that bitch up! Put the rag back in her mouth!" Her voice was unmistakable, and although he couldn't hear her exact words Frank Sumner jolted, "HOLY SHIT ! ! SHANNON! SHE'S IN THERE ! " He grabbed his screw driver and put two guns in his belt and a third gripped in his hand wrapped in his shirt which he soaked with his Coke. He hurriedly walked backward into Venture, pushing the door open with his behind. Turning as if carrying another large load. His head was devoid of thought. The big guy bellowed "Now what have you.." but the screw driver was pounded through his eye into his head in a single chop. There was barely a sniff of gas, maybe it was his apprehension that he was smelling. Following the voices into the back, snorting at the air as he went, he entered a room. No odor, but four supprised sets of eyes - piff piff piff . The coke wet shirt deadened the sound. Three more, dead men. Shannon gagged and tied to a cane back chair was nearly standing on tippy toes bug eyed, landing back with a loud clump.