One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 3, page 10

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Bhanar ejected the bullet casing from his rifle and turned to the old man. “Bullets. Give bullets to me.” Bhanar surprised himself by remembering the correct word.

But Pí‘oro just shook his head with a grim expression and walked past him, heading for that Zhéporé-spawn Zhíno.

“Hey! Bullets to me!”

How did the old man expect Bhanar to protect himself? Was he supposed to hide behind Pí‘oro? Didn’t the old man realize how good Bhanar was with his rifle? Didn’t the old man realize how useful Bhanar was, how much he could help?

But no, Pí‘oro acted like he himself was the only man around who could stop the madman. Pí’oro expected Bhanar to follow orders and not ask questions. But Bhanar was better than that.

Bhanar started striding after Pí‘oro, the top of his long shadow quickly approaching the old man’s feet. He had to be part of the action. He had to capture Zhíno.

The old guy yelled, “Get out of the auto, now. We’re going to help you.”

What the plagues? “Help” him? Bhanar clenched his fist and hurried to catch up. You better be lying, old man. You better be tricking him into surrendering.

The police auto’s engine growled and it lurched forward, accelerating straight at Pí‘oro. Zhíno was completely insane.

Without thinking of how much he wanted to prove himself to the old man, Bhanar sprinted the last few yards and knocked Pí‘oro out of the path of the auto. Bhanar jumped the opposite direction, but not quick enough. The cruiser’s bumper slammed into his shins, snapping bones and sending Bhanar flying through the air, tumbling end over end. His limp body landed in a heap on the gravel driveway, limbs pointing unnatural angles.

And there he lay.

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