When Williams still did not respond he added, “For it is a man’s best friend—his weapon. Something he will live by and die by when all else abandons him. It is not woman. It is not wealth.” He paused suddenly and looked away, as though he were looking inward—looking into the abyss. “Your companion animal, the ankylosaur ... he is not faring well.”
And then he was drawing, his hand virtually a blur as it snatched up his pistol and aimed at Williams’ heart, and he’d just begun to squeeze the trigger when a black hole the size of a dime opened in his forehead and a stream of blood squirted out the back of his head—once, twice, spattering upon the ground, three times.
And then he fell, his legs buckling like paper, his body convulsing.
“A dinosaur is a man’s best friend,” said Williams at
