“You ok?” Dan came pounding up.
“Yeah. I'm good here. But check his right pocket. He went for it.”
“Ice pick!” Dan replied. “Forty-nine cents at any discount outlet and you're armed and dangerous. And they sell to anyone.” Dan held up a black wooden handle with a six-inch steel spike. “Slide it down through the lining of your pocket with the steel shaft along your leg; easy to conceal but if you know where to stick it; up under the sternum or in the neck or your ear-hole... you'd be good as dead.”
“Put him into the car!” Tommy grunted, trying to ignore the heated sensation along the side of her neck; the bright sizzling in her head at the thought of six-inches of steel sliding through her inner-ear on its way up into her brain cavity. She shuddered violently.
