Sixkill

'Can you talk?' I said.

'I . . . talk,' Z answered. 'Got . . . nothing . . . to say.'

'When you are breathing again,' I said. 'I'll show you a new move.'

'Any . . . time,' Z said. 'I . . . ready now.'

I grinned.

'Sure you are,' I said. 'Just let me rest up a little.'

'You . . . think you . . . need it,' Z said.

'I do,' I said. 'While you're waiting for me to stabilize, why don't you sit on that stool.'

Z sat.

I took my gun off my hip, opened the cylinder, and took out the bullets. I put the bullets in my pocket.

'Okay,' I said. 'It's unloaded. We'll play with it on this mat, so if it gets knocked loose and hits the floor, it won't get too banged up.'

We waited. Z's breathing became calm. I glanced at the clock. Pretty quick recovery time. He had gotten himself in shape.

He stood.

'Okay,' he said.

'Sometimes a guy has a gun,' I said. 'If he's smart, he stays out of reach with it. Stand five or six feet away and point a gun at me, and there's not much I can do, but come in close . . .'

I stepped close to Z and handed him the gun.

'Put it against my forehead,' I said.

Z did as I said.

'Now,' I said. 'The minute I move, pull the trigger.'

'Like I'm trying to kill you,' Z said.

'Just like that.'

'Okay,' Z said.

I waited a moment, then suddenly thrust my left hand up under his gun arm, grabbing the wrist, and fully extended my arm.

Click!

'Where was the gun pointing,' I said to Henry, 'when it clicked.'

'Straight at the ceiling,' Henry said.

'Try again,' Z said.

We did, and two more times.

Each time, Henry called 'ceiling.'

'What happened next?'

'Probably try to pull your windpipe out of your neck,' I said. 'We'll go through it slow. . . . See where my hand is on your wrist?'

We stopped and looked at it. Z nodded.

'Here's another reason not to get too close. Point the thing at me from a foot or two away, say chest level. Pull the trigger first move I make.'

Z pointed the gun.

I made a crisscross motion with both hands, and the gun fell to the mat unclicked.

'Jesus Christ,' Z said.

I picked up the gun and handed it to him.

'We'll go through it slow,' I said. 'Right hand comes in against the inside of the gun-hand wrist. Left hand comes from the other side and hits the back of the gun hand. It scissors the gun out, even if you know it's coming. Ready.'

'Go,' Z said.

I made my crisscross, and the gun hit the mat again.

'You need to assume you got nothing to lose,' I said. 'Before you use either maneuver.'

'Nothing to lose all my life,' Z said.

Zebulon Sixkill VIII

Z's time with Jumbo was a swamp of disjointed images.

Besides his movies, Jumbo had a weekly one-hour variety show that retroed to the fifties. The show went on air at eight p. m. Eastern time, out of Burbank, taped at four in the afternoon, Pacific time, in front of