“Groaning, he fumbled for his gun, then remembered the damned commie had knocked it out of his palm. His jacket was gone, too—so that’s what the man had been doing when Grif stirred the first time. Turning out his pockets for more weapons. Finding nothing in the jacket but an old greeting card—the window into Grif’s past, offered by Mary Margaret—Grif saw that the man had tossed both aside. The card was splayed alongside the jacket, opposite the gun. He turned toward the latter, but a rappin...g noise behind him had him jolting in the reverse direction. There was a face in the icebox . . . in the viewing window, that was. Grif pushed himself to his knees, then feet, because the face was also familiar. Dennis mouthed something, frowning as he pointed down, and Grif nodded. He put his hand to the door, and the lock clicked open, sounding a little like a trigger being cocked. Yet the door opened faster than it should, and the man who emerged wasn’t Dennis.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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