Pool_2

>> A Few Good Men <<

Frank's grim snickering flashbacks of Karl's pain were ruptured by Shannon's million decibel screech. It was a pure female sound, the one designed by God to allow ladies to absolutely compel a man's attention. It causes male sphincters to close, spit to drip, eyelids to yank back into the skull and even causes listening to happen. Shaken, Frank swerved "Jesus! Shannon! You're gonna get us killed! I almost drove off the..." but she just screamed again. Words, somehow conveyed within that screeching vent, pelleted, "They're on us! Do something!" Sumner was muttering, ".. a few good men, we need .." and then as abruptly as her scream, "Trees," he shouted above her agony. "Through the trees," he repeated. Pulling quickly off the road again through brush skimming around trees in the wide forrested dividing island back to the north bound side nearly broke both their necks. He gained space, but, even so, he saw the sea of possibilities was sucking out. Holy Jesus. There were more cars! The big wave, the really big final one, had crested and was about to fall. There was little to do but take in the final spectacle. There were even more cars than before - he couldn't count them as he veered - bearing down fast, very fast, in the wrong direction, from the north. A tide of bullets was cresting and the spraying sound of machine gun fire was easily recognized by this old soldier. There was no where to go but down as the Explorer ran unguided off the road. There was audible ripping of steel, exploding tires, shattering glass. Frank Sumner, no longer behind the wheel, had belly rolled over the seat to end up lying on top of Shannon who was already flat on the floor in the foot well of the rear seat. The Explorer rolled diagonally on an uphill roadside grassy slope to a stop, stalled out, then back to a