Book World: DEAD ON Chapter Eight

Rydell rummaged about his place for whatever he might need, but it was like being told a tornado or a raging fire or that damn wrecking crew down the street was coming straight for the place now and you’ve got minutes to evacuate. He must pack only what he could carry. In the end, he grabbed a couple of clips and his Glock, tossed a few additional guns into a briefcase, a change of clothes into a small bag, and decided that he’d be making a visit to the nearest Wal-Mart either on the way or in the morning. After all, if he and Mrs. Terry Mallory were to make it without a maniac on their tail, they must scoot and fast. As a result he didn’t give it any further thought. Instead, he took the service elevator down to the underground garage and rushed to his Jeep Cherokee at space 44 and found himself packing and waiting and pacing and alternately leaning against the car to wonder where in heavens was Dr. Mallory.