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Wysłany: Śro 1:33, 09 Mar 2011 Temat postu: On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedaammre |
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was left in the engine-driven welder on top of the
trench—whether it would last until dark when the orange arc might draw attention. Then he
remembered that it was almost the longest day of the year. Darkness wouldn't fall until nearly
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nine o'clock. Stillif he had enough oxygen in his little tomb and if the gasoline held out
maybe .
He thought of all the hundreds of people passing within a few feet of him up above. He
thought of his family and wondered if he would ever see his little grandson again. He thought
of Tommy Whittakerhis assistantout on another job on Route 128.
He figured there wasn't anything to do but lie there and wait and keep tapping flashesand
hope that enough air would filter into the mask to keep him alive. There wasn't anything to do
but lie there and prayGod
send someone.
In another part of Bostonout on Route 128Tommy Whittaker had quit his work for the day.
Tommy was 47 years oldJack41. They had known each other for more than 15 years and
were close friendsso close they would sometimes finish each other's sentences. As Jack
called out for helpthenit was no wonder that Tommy sensed his prayers.
Tommy did not know that Jack was on the Washington Stree high heeled jordansyilai:
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