Skunk Hunt Read Free Page A

He had a lit cigarette dangling between his lips,
the smoke indistinguishable from his steaming breath. The other guy
was large, quite large. Beyond that, Marvin could not describe
them. He was more intent on the pistol in the large man's hand and
the shotgun cradled by the small man.
    They were making no attempt to hide their
intention. As Marvin raced back behind the Tecno display, the large
man jerked at the glass door. Marvin breathed hard, making sure his
hand was nowhere near the door release button. Instead, he did the
inconceivable. He reached down for the Heckler & Koch in the
nook next to the cash register.
    Safety, safety, safety...he knew he had to do
something before he could fire. He glanced down frantically at the
gun. He saw no special button or lever. He looked up.
    To his astonishment, the big man was
motioning him to unlock the door. Was he crazy? Well yeah, he had
to be crazy to come marching up to the shop with gun drawn. Marvin
wanted to shout at him, Are you nuts? You
can't rob a jewelry store just like that! We're a regular fortress
here. You'd better watch out!
    The large man shrugged and nodded at the
small man, who recovered from a coughing fit long enough to raise
his shotgun and point it at the door.
    "Jesus!"
    Marvin crouched behind the main display. He
shook so hard he could barely see the gun in his hand, let alone
any subtle safety mechanism. And then he remembered something
Vernon had said while terrorizing his employee with the weapon's
very presence.
    Squeeze
cocker .
    All someone had to do was to hold the gun in
the proper grip and it was ready to fire. Even a dummy could do it.
But what was the proper—
    There was an explosion. A double-fist-sized
hole appeared in glass that sagged at the edges. The big man
reached through and pushed on the door lever. The door swung
in.
    "This is a stick-up!" he shouted. It sounded
like...almost like laughter. "You didn't want to make this
easy?"
    The big man's voice had a naturally
aggressive quality, each word like gravel flung in your face. But
Marvin decided the smaller man was more dangerous. He had the
shotgun. And the shotgun was...well, bigger .
    He stood and aimed. There was a fleeting
impression of two startled faces, one compressed by a wheezy cough.
He squeezed and fired.
    It was like letting a firecracker go off in
his hand. The shock almost caused him to drop the gun. The small
man staggered back. The shotgun clattered on the floor.
    "Son of a bitch!" the big man yelled. He was
trapped between the two front displays, with no sideways room for
maneuver. He had to go either forward or backward. Instead, he
stood his ground and raised his gun.
    Marvin didn't know he had closed his eyes. To
him, the sight of his assailants was burned onto his mental retina,
as clear to him as if he was staring down their throats. It was
this image he was firing at when he squeezed off another round,
then another.
    And then he was clobbered, dead center,
electrifying pain. His eyes flew open. To his surprise, he found
himself on the floor, doubled like a closed carjack, his knees
touching the sliding panels of the display, his back against the
wall. How had this happened? He started to pull himself up. More
pain shot out from his chest and dragged him back down. He lowered
his chin and saw blood.
    "Ah! Ah!"
    He heard footsteps. The gun! Where was it?
Not on the floor in front of him. He tried to look behind him but
pain jammed him like a doorstop. Had he dropped it on the display
counter? He lifted his eyes and saw a dark, angular object through
the glass top. There was no way...
    His eye fell on the beige panic button
halfway down the gun nook. How stupid...how stupid... Fighting the
pain, he reached up and pressed the alarm. There were no bells or
whistles. The silent alarm was connected to the phone, which
signaled Richmond Alarm Company's central station. Within a minute
or two the police would be contacted. But even if it worked like it
was supposed to, how