“We love you!” they said.
Gertrude turned and half-sat, anchoring the stock in the sandy bank. He clicked the safety off and pulled the trigger, sending a burst of bullets at them. He missed at first, but then two were hit right in the chest, another in the stomach. Another burst, and another one went down, her knee shattered. The air cleared. Silence fell. The last three cowered on the ground, awaiting their doom. He pulled the trigger again, but the gun jammed, and they looked up.
“She will get you,” one said.
Gertrude bared his teeth.
They stood up now, unafraid.
As one they said, “When she comes, run.”
And they turned and fled.
Gertrude dropped the gun into the creek with a disgusted grunt. There was a buck knife in a leather sheath on Jamal’s belt.
That would do.
That would d
