Two seconds after Bobby turned, a hesitant Hector pulled his weapon and shot Bobby, point-blank in the ribs, an area not covered by the vest.
“No!” Clarice yelled, the effort cut short by her flaring wounds.
Bobby staggered to the side as if someone had landed a good hook on him, turned halfway around and fired at Hector's dodging, scrambling form. Stopped when he realized the kids were on the boat. He looked over at her, a pained, apologetic expression that stayed on his face as he collapsed. His tall, heavy body fell like a sequoia, striking the water-filled ruts with a splash. He took in ragged breaths, unconscious but alive, face just above the water.
Clarice ground her teeth. Balled up her functional fist and punched the magnolia. The broken bone reminded her eloquently that the ha
