Second Activation

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In my peripheral vision, I saw Jack’s arm rise to meet Ron’s handshake. As it carried on in an upward motion past the height of Ron’s chest, I turned to look.

Jack pulled the trigger.

At the ear-splitting crack of the Ruger, I blinked hard and focused back on Ron.

He tried to speak. His lips quivered and his mouth erratically opened and closed. He looked up at the ceiling. A thin stream of blood, running from the forehead entry wound, momentarily pooled in his twitching left eye before rolling down his cheek.

Ron’s legs buckled. He collapsed lifelessly to the ground. His head slammed with a dull thud onto the tiles at my feet, and his left leg twitched.

Jack stood motionless. A wisp of smoke curled from his pistol, still raised and pointing at a now blood-spattered cupboard. Lea stared open-mouthed.

I looked down at Ron. The round had blown out a fist-sized chunk of skull as it exited, confirming he wouldn’t be getting back up, even though it appeared that he was still breathing.

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