Avon Fantasy Reader No. 7 — page 129: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘THE GUN . age _» The ticket seller, blood streaming from his head, was bringing out stacks f bills. Parker stuffed them into the side pockets of the light topcoat he had cquired earlier in the evening. They were satisfying packets of bills. The ticket seller raised his hands. | | “That’s all—” ; : | _ Fine,” said Parker and shot, him through the head. Then he turned and oolly stepped out of the vault. job doesn’t count unless you get away.” Parker ran to the door leading into the waiting room proper and whipped t open. A policeman was charging upon him, less than thirty feet away. With- ut breaking his stride, Parker sent a bullet at the policeman and saw him itch forward on his face. oe Policemen seemed to be coming from all sides, then. Parker and Howard an, firing to the right and left. Bullets whizzed about them and one raked arker’s left shoulder. It stung, but the pain wasn’t much. And then they were clear of the railroad station and running across the reet to the parked car. A bluecoat was standing beside it, writing out a ticket. Parker let him have a bullet, right in the stomach. As the man went down, e jerked open the door by the driver’s seat and climbed in behind the wheel. He got out the ignition key, started the car and jerked it away from the curb. At that moment, the policeman lying in the street got out his service revolver and taking careful aim, fired. _ : A sudden roaring filled John Parker’s ears. For a moment a red haze appeared before his eyes, then it vanished and he saw the huge concrete pillar directly before him. He knew that he ought to turn the wheel of the car, but couldn’t. As if from a distance he heard the crash— © | Howard said: “Are you ready to give me the gun?” Parker knew that it was only a matter of seconds. “Take itl” he gasped. Howard shook his head. “No, 1 can't take it. You've got to give it to me.” _ The gun was in John Parker's hand. But it was heavy—heavy, He tried to lift it and couldn't. He saw alarm come into Howard’s face. TI can’t lift it-—” | | 7 “You've got to,” Howard cried. “It’s sixty years. It’s too long. You've got to ive me the gun. Try. Try hard!” : Parker tried once more and blood gushed from his mouth. “Who—who are your” he quavered. cS my. 2 Qa “AML right,” said Howard. “Now, let’s see how you are on the getaway. ar connicloooks.c© inl