Gasping, I realize not everyone in the crowd is running away. Not all of them are afraid, or even confused by the outburst of violence. They move differently, with purpose, motive, a mission. Black
She’s holding the pistol wrong. Even I know that. It’s too big for her, made of shimmering black metal, with a barrel nearly a foot long. Better suited to a trained soldier rather than a shivering,
“Yes,” she repeats. “Never fear. I am very good at what I do. I will
get you there.”
She scoots her stool even closer and lifts her hands. I tense. “No,