Mission Oak Furniture Part II

Mary relaxed. John pulled his hand away. John spit, “Don’t scream.” Mary took a deep breath and then exhaled into action. She kicked back hard with the heel of her shoe catching John in the right shin. She pivoted up and back with her left elbow. The blow struck John in the temple. She spun to face David. With her heel of her right hand, she thrust upwards into his face. She felt and heard the crunch of his nose. She turned to face John. He reached to grab her by the shoulders. She kicked upwards with all she had. John dropped to the ground and rolled into a fetal position.

Mary ran to her car. “Thank God I left the keys in the ignition,” she though. Rocks and dust flew as she sped down the gravel drive. Her heart pounded. Her blouse was damp with sweat. The back end of the SUV swerved outwards as she turned right onto County Road 18. She checked her rearview mirror. She pressed on the accelerator harder as she saw the green pickup pull out behind her.

Mary reached for her cell phone. “911,” she thought. “Got to call 911.” She fumbled the phone. She looked down. She could see the phone under her right leg. She reached down with her right hand. Her fingers touched the phone. The front right tire hit a pot hole. The SUV veered left, tipped, rolled. Mary was tossed like dirty laundry. Glass churned around her. “Oh god, please don’t let me die,” were her last thoughts.

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