The first sweep of the axe did no more than knock the wind from him - this was really what he thought until he landed on the carpet smelling his own blood.
He stirred the remaining boxes and bottles around, hoping the result would look no more or less helter-skelter than it had when he first peered into the box. Annie had managed to pull most of the paper out of her mouth and throat and had gotten out through Pauls window while Paul was sleeping the sleep of drugs.