Read Salby (Book 2): Salby Evolution for Free Online

perfectly.
    I got it right, ex-wife, well it’s about bloody time!
    It seemed as though minutes passed before the meathead janitor began to move towards her. There was no way I could overpower him. He was twice my weight and clearly strong enough to toss a body clean through a window.
    Part of me doesn’t care if it is her. Weapons. I need weapons.
    I popped my head up to look through the glass of the car doors as I began to crawl towards the DIY superstore off to my left. While the janitor, still a hundred yards from the woman, made slow progress towards her, I had enough time to get into the store, find something appropriate and get back to thwart his intentions—whatever they might be. Not that I was about to ask the man.
    The substantial open space between me and the store entrance posed a risk I had to take. I crouched, my gaze returned to the woman and then to the man, and I let out a long, slow breath as he finally altered his course and re-entered the shopping complex.
    The woman simply stood, in some kind of daze it seemed, shock perhaps at what had happened. I reasoned that I’d need some kind of weapon if I were to go after her, and given my proximity to the store, best I go in and arm myself.
    The pneumatic doors slid apart long before I got close enough to pass through. I waited behind the nearest car to see who, or what, might come out, but no one did. The next time the doors opened, I took my chance and ran for the relative safety of the store, acutely aware of the fact that there could be more of those strange people inside. I crouched just inside the doors, conscious of the IR detector, keen not to set if off again. As I looked up, inside the frame, a switch caught my eye. In one fluid movement, I stood, pushed the switch upwards, and again crouched low. The doors rattled open no more. Good. Yes, this action blocked a fast escape route, but it also prevented any unwanted company from entering behind me, which, in my reasoning, would allow me some time to find what I needed.
    The store had a massive, multi-departmental, open plan layout. A quick look around yielded no movement farther in, but it was simply too big to see every aisle. I kept low, stayed close to the rows of stock stacked to the roof, practically crawling down the first aisle, which only had sheets of board, corrugated plastics, and external building supplies.
    Above my head, printed board signage swung on wire arms, fanned by the air conditioning units in the ceiling. My eyes locked onto the ‘Tools’ board, and I duly turned right as the arrow indicated. The aisle was clear. A few empty boxes lay on the floor in the middle, a trolley full of replenishment stock left abandoned. No sign of the staff. As I moved down the aisle, my first find was a hefty-looking monkey bar. Used primarily for leverage, the solid steel bar, a little over a metre long, could come in handy. I made a mental note of its position so as to pick it up before I left.
    A little farther along stood a display of numerous knives. I picked two; one with a long, lockable, folding blade and a razor-sharp box cutter. Quickly, I stuffed both into my back pockets. In the same section, a sturdy backpack tool bag hung next to protective clothing items; I grabbed it, adjusted the straps, and slung it over my shoulder. It was easy to get carried away, forget the situation. As my confidence grew, in the absence of any sound or the presence of anyone else in the store, I stood to enable faster progress and access to the higher shelves. I loaded a few more items into my new backpack, and casually strolled to the next aisle.
    The face glared down at me, and his eyes carried an accusatory look which sent a chill right through me. He said nothing, nor did he move. The trident-style garden fork which pinned him to a rack of wood had long since taken his ability to speak … or breathe. According to his name badge, he would have been Mike Stanning—Store Manager. Clearly, my day paled in