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John aimed at the axeman, two yards away, and fired. The bullet knocked a hole through his chest. He staggered backward a few steps, bumping into those behind him. 'GO!' John yelled. |
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He got to his feet, sweeping his gun from side to side. The crazies, muttering and snarling, glared at him but stayed away. A few of them flung up arms to shield their faces. |
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He glanced to his right. Lynn was beside him, standing there, scowling at the black faces. |
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On his left, Cassy stood hunched over, jostling the knife in her hand like some kind of fifties delinquent eager to join in a rumble. |
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This is mad, he thought. We'll all be killed. |
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Three of us against the mob. Cornered. |
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They're still not attacking. |
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Let's at least get out of the foyer. Maybe make it to a window. |
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He sidestepped, nudging Cassy, taking quick aim at the nearest crazy, who gasped and ducked. Lynn stayed with him. They made their way to the entryway between the foyer and the main dining room. Cassy checked the rear. |
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Then they backed out of the foyer. The crazies came toward them, but none was foolish enough to charge. |
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'We'll try for a window,' John muttered. |
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It felt better, being in the big, open room. A little better, anyway. |
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