Page 167 of Not Quite Dead Yet

Jet peered inside, pulled something out that was blocking her search. A set of pliers, handle wide, mouth open.

Black rubber handle with a yellow logo at the bottom.

Wait.

No.

Jet turned the pliers to read the brand name, her heart dropping all the way to her gut, taking the wings with it.

Coleby.

Written in a little yellow circle with pointed ends, against the black.

No, no, no.

Her heart was already there but Jet couldn’t follow.

She pulled out more of the tools.

A screwdriver.

A wrench.

Black rubber grips and a little yellow logo.

Coleby.

Coleby.

They were all Coleby.

A measuring tape.

A little knife.

Fuck.

Where was it?

It had to be here.

If the hammer was here, then everything was OK, just a coincidence. Just a strange little coincidence that they would laugh about.

Jet had to find it.

Had to, no choice.

A file.

Another screwdriver.

More pliers.

Where was the hammer? It had to be here.

Jet’s hand retreated from the dark folds inside the tool kit. Grabbed its handle instead, flipped it, turned the whole thing over.

The tools clattered onto the floor, Jet shaking the bag until they were all out.

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