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two kids holding Lucille as Ratface and his pal, Shorty. Ratface saw me.
    Before he shouted I saw the gun in Chuck's hand, saw him raise his arm and slam the gun against Lucille's head, saw her crumple as the kid yelled, "Look out! Chuck, it's —" Then I was sprinting toward them, raising the heavy hammer.
    Chuck whirled and flame spat from his gun; I saw the two others spin around and jump toward me. Chuck's gun was pointing toward me, ready to fire again, and I hurled the hammer at him, heard it thud against his body as I slammed my left foot into the ground, pivoted and leaped at the two others. I jarred into one of them before he could move out of the way, and my left fist went into his stomach almost to his backbone. As he fell away from me, my hand sliced his neck and he went down. The other one, the short kid, was two yards away, a gun in his hand. I left the ground and leaped feet first through the air toward him, twisting my body to the left. The gun fired, sending a slug past my head, and then I kicked at his leg with my right foot as I hit the ground, sliding. He fell hard onto his back, and I raised my leg and pounded my heel into his groin with all my strength.
    In the moonlight I could see Chuck Dorr bent over, fumbling on the ground. I got to my feet as he straightened up, hands empty. The hammer must have hit his arm and at least made him lose the gun. He bent over slightly, long powerful arms held out at his sides, and came toward me. I waited for him.
    But as he reached me he dropped suddenly and dived at my feet with his hands reaching for my ankles. I brought up my knee and felt it scrape his cheek, and then he grabbed my legs and twisted them out from under me. I landed heavily on my side. He was grunting, harsh, explosive noises ripping from his throat, and his fist jarred into my back, cracking against my spine as I rolled away from him. He landed on top of me, fists smashing at my head and the side of my face. I slammed a fist against his jaw and rolled onto my back, kicked at his face as he scuttled toward me on all fours and reached for my throat.
    My foot grazed his chin and thudded against his shoulder, twisting him, and I got my feet under me, started up as he caught his balance and lunged at me. His hands slapped against my throat, wrapped around it, thumbs digging deep into my throat's hollow as those same thumbs had pressed Pam's neck. His arms were high, his belly exposed, and as spots spun before my eyes and the blood congested in my face, distending the veins, I pulled my right arm back, the hand stretched open and my fingertips pointed stiffly at his solar plexus. His thumbs pressed deep into my flesh and blackness swelled before my eyes as I drove my open hand toward his belly.
    But my blow was high, and I hit solid rib. I felt bone snap beneath my fingers. A gasp of pain ripped from his mouth and his hands loosened on my throat. I balled both hands into fists, jerked them upward hard, slamming my wrists against his arms. His fingers tore from my throat, and with my arms above my head I spread my hands open, sliced their edges down hard on the muscles at each side of his neck.
    His arms dropped to his sides, and when he discovered he couldn't lift them, it was too late. I had plenty of time and I set myself, leaned forward as I swung, pivoting, getting the weight of my shoulder and body behind the blow, and smashed my fist against his mouth. As he staggered back I jumped forward and grabbed him, pulled him to me as I swung my fist against his mouth again. He'd had it all, then, but I sliced my palm's edge against the back of his jaw to make sure, then let him fall.
    The short kid I'd kicked in the groin was vomiting. I hunted till I found the hammer and my gun, then I walked to Shorty and hit him on the head with the hammer. He rolled over. Ratface was moaning softly, so I gave him a tap, too. Then I walked to Chuck, hoping he'd wiggle so I could clobber him. He lay quietly. What the