Thank goodness, I am famished, thought he.
It was a delicious meal.
Demo left the building, watched the chariots stopped in the
broad streets, growls issuing from inside. At times other sounds
issued from the vehicles. Loud and raucous, the sounds
repeated and repeated, as though some musical instruments were
being played out of tune. Accompanying these sounds were screams
and yells of tortured innocents.
He could only assume that, in some manner, the chariots had
malfunctioned.
Duane Golchick and Ralph Fulcere waited nervously outside the
bank door. The customers were thinning out as three o'clock
closing time neared. Finally the last of the stragglers left.
Duane and Ralph entered quickly.
"Say, I'm sorry, we were just closing." The guard smiled,
motioned them toward the door.
"Just walk over to the counter with us. Put your hands behind
your neck and hold 'em there." Duane spoke in a half snarl, held
a revolver in his hand.
The guard noticed the nervous motion of the gunbarrel. "Okay,
okay, don't be nervous. Whatever you say! Just take it easy! No
one's causing any trouble."
"All right, listen up!" Ralph shouted. "This is a holdup! Any
screams, any alarms, and we'll take you out. And we don't care
who we shoot first, so you heroes just give it a try. Open it
up, babe."
He indicated the gate leading behind the counters. The clerk
nervously fumbled with the catch, finally opened the gate.
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