it. These lunatics were fighting panic now: I didn’t want to show them something tangible to tear apart.
I went along with them, cracking everything that got in my way, and being cracked back. A bucket got between my feet.
I crashed down, upsetting my neighbors, rolled over a body, felt a foot on my face, squirmed from under it, and came to rest in a corner, still tangled up with the galvanized bucket.
Thank God for that bucket!
I wanted these people to go away. I didn’t care who or what they were. If they’d depart in peace I’d forgive their sins.
I put my gun inside the bucket and squeezed the trigger. I got the worst of the racket, but there was enough to go around. It sounded like a crump going off.