Walk, Don't Run — J.M. McCool

Sample this: They'd all but concluded their business when again the room went dark with the shadow of someone passing in front of the window. Jefro's hand was out of his pouch now, the gun huge and gleaming against his dark silhouette. John ducked right, rolling onto the carpet, immediately regretting it for his right hand was pinned under him as he watched E's massive bulk roll off the other side of the bed. Though it wasn't locked the door exploded inward from Jefro's kick, while he scrabbled and clawed in his left pocket. Thinking of Derek's silly pistol but realizing it was the other one he'd grasped, he hauled it up and squeezed the trigger. A faint light clap of thunder sounded in the room, a kind of miniature sound like a storm heard on television and Jefro was gone. Not disintegrated: just gone, back out through the door and sprawled on his back in the parking lot thirty feet away. Even from here it was plain to see his chest was crushed in, like he'd been stomped. His shoes were still on the floor where he'd leapt out of them. As if it were a matter of course a young boy stooped near the body and picked up Jefro's gun and walked quickly away, not even looking towards the room. A bleachy smell of ozone lingered in the room. He watched E get to his feet, his head stopping only a few inches shy of the ceiling and the whites of his eyes rolling huge. "You ain't even gon' tell me what just happened then." "E, if only we had the lugury of time. . . . " ----------------from Walk, Don't Run