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/* /*]] */ Axler, James – Deathlands 20 – Cold Asylum Guiteau’s desperate voice rose above the crackling of flames and thunder. “Any moment a hundred armed sec men’ll be on top of you, Cawdor.
Give up and the boy lives. Best offer you’ll get all day.”
He stepped into the open, crouched and almost totally hidden behind Dean, the muzzle of the Armalite digging into the boy, his finger on the trigger.
“Let him go, or I’ll put you down.” The voice, surprisingly calm, was Mildred’s.
From the corner of his eye, Ryan saw the doctor standing like a statue, her right arm extended, the ZKR
551 target pistol pointed at the sec sergeant.
“The boy dies before I take a hit,” Guiteau called, crouching even lower, so that she could see very little of his head or body.
But that didn’t matter. The Czech revolver snapped once, and at forty paces and in poor light, Mildred put the .38-caliber round precisely where she aimed it. Both Harry Guiteau’s index finger and the trigger of his automatic rifle were blown off. The Armalite clattered to the ground, and Dean scampered toward his father.
“Best damn shot I ever saw,” the sec sergeant gritted through his pain.
