The rifle goes off

Mac didn’t stop. His eyes were wild, his expression angry. He ran across the room, swinging his fists.

“No—Mac! Get away!” The scream burst from my throat. What did he think he was doing? Why didn’t he listen to me? Why was he risking his life?

The chubby gunman dropped the rope and stepped away from my chair. He put his hands on his waist, ready to confront Mac.

I tugged my hands free. The rope fell to the floor behind me.

Mac roared up to the two masked men, breathing hard, his face bright red. “Give it up!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and high. “You have to give it up.”

The two men narrowed their eyes at Mac, squinting from behind their masks. The tall one shifted his hunting rifle from one hand to the other. “What do you think you’re doing?” he growled.

Mac sucked in some wheezing breaths. “I’m stopping you. This whole thing is crazy. You have to give it up.”

Brendan and I exchanged glances. Had Mac totally lost it? What made him think he could stop these vicious thugs?

“Get out of here. I’m warning you,” Blue Eyes said.

“I’m not leaving. You can’t do this,” Mac told him. His hands were still rolled into tight fists. His chest heaved up and down. But he seemed more angry than afraid.

“Go away,” the chubby one snapped. “Go away before I lose it.”

“Just turn around and walk away,” his partner ordered.

“I’m serious,” Mac told them. “I’m not going until you give this up.”

And then without warning, Mac dove forward. He lunged at the tall masked man—and grabbed his hunting rifle with both hands. He gave a furious tug, but the man’s grip held.

“Mac—no!” I screamed. Brendan and I jumped up from the folding chairs and started toward them. “No!”

We watched helplessly as Mac and the blue-eyed gunman wrestled over the rifle. The man twisted it and turned it, struggling to pull it from Mac’s grasp. But Mac stubbornly held on. Grunting and groaning, he pulled, then pushed hard, trying to throw the man off-balance.

“NOOOOO!” a shrill scream exploded from my throat as the rifle went off.

The sharp craaack rang off the four walls.

As if in slow motion, Mac uttered a long sigh and dropped to his knees. He shut his eyes. He seemed to fold in on himself, wrapping his hands around his middle. He collapsed to the floor with one last groan and didn’t move.

“Oh, no!” The tall gunman stumbled back, eyeing the still body on the floor in horror. The rifle fell from his hands and clattered to the floor in front of him.

“You shot him!” I screamed so loud, my throat ached. “You shot Mac. You murderer! You killed him!”

32.

Дата добавления: 2015-07-20