| OCR Text |
Show page 92 f e l l limp. Fad took the gun from the man's tight hand, threw i t to the floor beyond reach, lowered the man to the floor. He straightened painfully, with shortness of breath, but he entered the long, silent body of the truck and began pushing and kneeing the crates he had loaded back into the warehouse. With the crates a l l in disarray around his shanty office, Fad leaned against the loading ramp door, gasping for breath and s p i t t i n g blood. He shuffled to his office, picked up the brown packet, stepped outside his office and threw the packet with a l l his might Into the dead man's face. The packet, with the dead man's s p i t t l e on i t , slid to the floor. Fad leaned against his office doorway, struggling for strength, then grabbed the dead man by the feet and dragged him toward the open truck body, intending to load him and drive the truck with i t s gruesome cont e n t s away from mill property ( t h i s is the firm conclusion of both Flam F a r r e l l and Chief Lattimore in t h e i r play-by-play reconstruction of the awful events of that night). Dragging the man slowly, j e r k i l y , Fad slipped on his own blood at the warehouse doorway and f e l l sprawling, h i t t i n g his head on the loading ramp. He lay s t i l l , seemingly dead himself, but slowly regained his f e e t . He abandoned the dead man, shuffled down the loading ramp, t r i e d to keep in his blurring vision a distant row of dim s t r e e t lights leading to t h e Bottom and Ruby's diner. Fad weaved and staggered toward town, seemingly drunk or doped. He dragged one foot oddly, and swung his large right arm forward to help his momentum, sometimes falling on his arm |
