Twenty – SevenWith the muzzle flash, everything went into slow motion. The snorkel popped from Ben's mouth as he screamed. A torrent of bubbles rose to the surface. He sucked water, his eyes growing to the size of fried eggs behind his fogging mask. The bullet hit the rounded glass wall of the aquarium in front of him.
He expected an explosive thwack. He expected shattering glass and a thunderous deluge with an encyclopedia of exotic fish, and his silly dead ass, pouring out of the tank and onto the polished tile floor of the museum in a waterfall of horror and gore. But his nightmare failed to materialize.
The shot puckered the glass, with an oddly impotent tick, and the fish scattered. That was it. There was no shatter, not even a slow and sinister spidering crack in the glass, and he
