Shotgun Opera

Mike reached into his jacket pocket, grabbed a handful of shells, fumbled them to the floor. He knelt, felt along the floor, but found only a single shell. Son of a bitch. He loaded the shell, pumped it into the chamber.

When he tried to stand up again, his back went out.

* * *

Only because she?d seen the flashlight did Nikki have time to turn away as the cement-hard fist hit her face. If she?d taken the punch full-on, it would have finished her. Still, the glancing blow spun her around, teeth flying out in a spray of blood. She had slipped halfway into unconsciousness, landed hard. She shook the bells out of her ears, stood and wobbled away on shaky legs, only her strict training keeping her upright.

The flashlight hovered in her peripheral vision. Instinct took over. Nikki spun, kicked the hand holding the flashlight. She heard a grunt and something heavy falling. The flashlight clattered across the wood floor, light splashing like an out-of-control disco ball.

Then she ran.

Something massive slammed into her from behind, powerful arms going around her, lifting her off the ground. She felt the attacker?s chest press into her back, a slight hint of flowery perfume. A woman? Yes, a giant woman with arms like iron.

The arms squeezed, began the slow, hard crush, and the air left Nikki?s lungs.

* * *

Where the hell did he go?

The man had surprised Sprat. There wasn?t supposed to be anyone else in the house. Now Sprat couldn?t catch a glimpse of movement in the lightning flashes, and he couldn?t hear anything over the wind and rain. Was it possible Sprat had nailed him with the knife? No. The blade had been wet and slick, and Sprat knew his aim was off. The knife had gone low. It had possibly caught the bloke?s leg, but it might have missed altogether.

He took the little flashlight from his jacket pocket, thought about using it to check for a body. But he also knew the light would make him a target. Maybe that?s what the sneaky fellow was counting on. Maybe he was playing possum.

Sprat spider-crawled on top of a table, crouched low, stepping carefully to avoid knocking over decanters of expensive liquor on the tabletop. He pulled the other knife, prepared to spring. He could pounce on somebody like a jaguar, entangle them in his arms and legs, and slit a throat before the victim said boo.

He scanned the room, straining to see any hint of movement in the shadows.

Where are you, you crafty bastard?

Nikki went limp and threw her arms over her head. If the big woman anticipated the move, then Nikki was through, but she caught her attacker by surprise. Her sudden deadweight slipped through the big woman?s hug.

She lay on the floor, waited a moment, knowing the woman would bend over to grab her again. Nikki kicked up hard, caught the behemoth on the chin. Her attacker stumbled back and fell, the sound of an avalanche.

Nikki scurried to her feet and flew up the stairs. Who else is in this house? How many? She ran to her mother?s room and threw open the door. Her mother looked up from her rocking chair. She knitted the scarf by candlelight. The old woman raised an eyebrow. ?Yes??

?There are intruders in the house.?

She snorted. ?Come for your father, I suppose. Tell them he?s not here.?

As she closed the bedroom door, Nikki said, ?Lock yourself in, Mother. Don?t open the door until I check??

A heavy hand on Nikki?s shoulder spun her around. Nikki ducked the punch just in time. The giantess had followed her up the stairs so quickly. Nikki had thought the kick to her chin would have put her down a little longer. She dropped and attempted to sweep the woman?s legs. It was like kicking stone, the woman?s ankles like granite monuments.

The woman lifted an enormous foot and brought it down hard, trying to stomp Nikki?s chest. Nikki rolled to the side, and the foot impacted the hardwood floor, which cracked under the force.