Pool_2

"Never mind, chair's breaking, uggggg unnnnnnnh" It cracked. "Now I can reach... unnnnnh" "Hurry, Irish. I think we've got company." Shannon was mostly free and climbed over the rear divider onto the back seat. "Got a car phone?" "Here. 911?" She was furiously pressing buttons. "Come-on. Come-on, Mac!" "Mac?" Frank asked, "Why Mac?"

"They're gonna kill him! Gotta warn him." "He already knows! That's how I found you!" "Marcus? MARCUS! We're on highway.. what.." "137 east"

"137 east. We're being chased by killers... Frank Sumner. Yeah. Frank." Then turning to Sumner, she shouted, "Marcus says go north toward Patterstown on 156." "Coming up! There it is," they veered suddenly tossing Shannon upside down into the seat well. "Sorry. Nearly missed it. Tell him to send help they're closing fast. Looks like a Beemer. Wish I had the Jag! Shit!" "Did you hear that?" She screamed into the phone, looking backward at the nasty black BMW bearing down. "Frank! They're getting very close!" "Shannon, here," passing her one of the pistols, "Lie down. Crack the door and shoot at their tire. It will be at about fifteen degrees off of dead backward on the driver side. OK? Not until I tell you when. Stay down until I tell you. On three." "OK."