With a weary moan, she rose unsteadily and turned to face the frenzied office mob. They approached, jabbering excitedly and hungry for blood. Sarahetc bowed her head in surrender and waited for her inevitable death.

Take his gun. The old man has a gun in his jacket.

The voice spoke loudly in her mind, shattering the temptation to surrender. Sarahetc knelt and began frantically searching the various pockets of the old man’s blazer. Gross! My vomit is all over this thing! The mob was almost upon her, only footsteps away. At last, Sarahetc’s fingers touched cold steel, and her hand closed around the pistol. She drew the weapon and fired into the crowd without taking aim.

CRACK!

With a sickening bang, a head exploded right in front of her. Brains splattered everywhere, and the headless body fell stiffly into the crowd.

Sarahetc was knocked backwards by the force of the explosion. The gun was slippery with blood and vomit, but she managed to keep hold of the weapon. She recovered hastily and prepared for the attack, but the office mob had come to a wary halt. They stood nervously, wild eyed, forming a half-circle around her. Some looked doubtfully at the pistol in her hand.

Sarahetc struggled to catch her breath. “Anyone moves, and I shoot,” she said quietly. Her eyes were confident, though she fought to keep the gun steady.

“Say, how many bullets you got in that thing?” someone called.

“Yeah, I bet she’s out of bullets!” cried another voice. “Let’s get her!”

“You go first!” someone chimed in. “Then we’ll rush her!”

The crowd chuckled nervously, but no one moved. Their thirst for blood was tempered by cowardly fear.

Sarahetc pointed the pistol at the ceiling and fired. It exploded with a loud CRACK and plaster and debris came crumbling down, filling the air with dust and powder. The crowd stopped laughing.

“Oh, I think I have plenty of bullets,” Sarahetc said dryly. She waved her gun in a threatening manner. “It looks like the