“Put it together again and spin the cylinder three times,” the man said.
Kristine obeyed. The man nodded. She had done well, he was pleased with her.
“OK,” he said, “here’s where we play.”
She tightened her hold on the wooden grip of the revolver and started to lower it in time with his, the two guns describing twin parabolas through the still air. Someone was weeping somewhere. It was the kneeling man. She felt irritated with him for disturbing them at this important time.
“I want to play too,” said a voice from the kitchen.
Something flew through the air, striking the gunman in the face. He whirled around to face this new threat. The moment his eyes left Kristine’s, the spell was broken. She pulled the trigger, but the gun just clicked emptily. She was vaguely aware of a shape in the doorway to the right, small and indistinct. The gunman was turning back now, taking aim. Click. Click. Click. Kristine pumped the trigger desperately, all her force in that one finger, aiming for the center of mass in the upper chest area, and then felt rather than heard the gun come to life in her hands, and saw the gunman reel back clutching himself, his mouth open in amazement.
He sagged toward the table, reaching for the Cobray. Kristine rushed him, but there was a sofa blocking her path and she was only halfway there when the automatic went off. Lumps of hot metal flew through the air, striking her in the face and body, and for a moment she thought how easy and painless it was to die. Then she realized that they were the ejected shell casings. The bullets themselves were ripping into the walls and ceiling, having passed through the body of the collapsing gunman.
The clattering stopped as his finger released the trigger. Kristine started trembling all over. She looked at the bound couple, then at the boy standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He was holding the dart gun that her mother had given Thomas. The foam projectile lay on the floor beside the dead gunman.
David looked at his father, then surveyed the scene of carnage with an expression of awe.
“Coo-ul!” he said.