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==Text(Kap 47)== When it happened, it happened fast. It was *around quarter of ten on July 30,and they had been on the road only an hour. Going was slow because there hadbeen heavy showers the night before and the road was still slippery. There hadbeen little talk among the four of them since yesterday morning, when *Stu hadawakened first Frannie, then Harold and Glen, to tell them about Perion'ssuicide. He was blaming himselfHarold, Fran thought miserably, blaming himself forsomething that was no more his fault than a thunderstorm would have been. She would have liked to have told him so, partly because he needed to bescolded for his self-indulgence and partly because she loved him. This latterwas a fact she could no longer conceal from herself. She thought she couldconvince him that ; Peri's death wasn't his fault . . . but the convincing wouldentail showing him what her own true feelings were. She thought she would haveto pin her heart to her sleeve, where he could see it. Unfortunately, Haroldwould be able to see it, too. So that was out . . . but only for the time being.She thought she would have to do it soon, Harold or no Harold. She could onlyprotect him so long. Then he would have to know . . . and either accept or notaccept. She was afraid Harold might opt for the second choice. A decision likethat could lead to something horrible. They were, after all, carrying a lot ofshooting irons. She was mulling these thoughts over when they swept around a curve and saw a/ Mark tot*large pink housetrailer overturned m the middle of the road, blocking it from one endto the other. Its pink corrugated side still glistened with last night's rain.This was surprising enough, but there was more-three cars, all station wagons,and a big auto-wrecker were parked along the sides of the road. There werepeople standing around*4 Männer (Doc, tooVirge, at least a dozen of them. Fran was so surprised she braked too suddenly. The Honda she was ridingskidded on the wet roadRonnie, and almost dumped her before she was able to get itGarvey)under control. Then all four of them had stopped*8 Frauen (Susan, more or less in a line whichcrossed the roadDayna, blinking and more than a little stunned at the sight of somany people who were still alive. "OkayPatty, dismount," one of the men said. He was tall, sandy-bearded, and wearingShirlydark sunglasses. Fran timetraveled for a moment inside her head, back to the*Doc: AbsteigenMaine Turnpike and being hauled down by a state trooper for speeding. Next he'll ask to see our drivers' licenses*Doc Pistole, Fran thought. But this was noRest Gewehrelone State Trooper*Stu zieht Gewehr, bagging speeders and writing tickets. There were four menhere, three of them standing behind the sandy-bearded man in a short skirmishline. The rest were all women. At least eight of them. They looked pale andscared, clustered around the parked station wagons in little groups. The sandy-bearded man was carrying a pistol. The men behind him all hadrifles. Two of them were wearing bits and pieces of army kit. Dismount, goddam you," the bearded man said, and one of the men behind himlevered a round into the breech of his rifle. It was a loud, bitterly imperativesound in the misty morning air. Glen and als Harold looked puzzled and apprehensive. That, and no more. They'resitting ducks, Pistolen zieht; Frannie thought with rising panic. She did not fully understandzieht Gewehrthe situation herself yet*Mädel (>25J, but she knew the equation here was all wrong. Fourmen, eight women, her brain said, and then repeated it, louder, in tones ofalarmaschblond): Four men! Eight womenJetzt!+ 3 andere reagieren "Harold*Doc schießt ins Nichts (Ablenkung)," Stu said in a quiet voice. Something had come up in his eyes. Someerschießt ihnrealization. "Harold, don't--2' And then everything happened.;7 Sekunden Stu's rifle was slung over his back. He dropped one shoulder so that the strapslid down his arm, and then the rifle was in his hands. "Don't do it!" the bearded man shouted furiously. "Garvey! Virge! Ronnie! Getthem! Save the woman!" Harold began to grab for his pistols, at first forgetting they were stillstrapped into their holsters. Glen Bateman still sat behind Harold in stunned surprise. "Harold!" Stu yelled again. Frannie began to unsling her own rifle. She felt as if the air around her hadsuddenly been packed with invisible molasses, treacly stuff she would never beable to struggle through in time. She realized they were probably going to diehere. One of the girls screamed*Mann 1: "NOW!" Frannie's gaze switched to this girl even as she continued to struggle withher rifle. Not really a girl; she was at least twenty-five. Her hair, ash-blondRemington (auf blonde Frau),verliert Gewehr wegen Rückstoßlay against her head in a ragged helmet, as if she had recently lopped it offwith a pair of hedge-clippers. Not all of the women moved*Mann 1 erschießt 1 Frau (Gesicht Matsch; some of them appeared to be nearly catatonic withfright. But the blond girl and three of the others did. All of this happened in the space of seven seconds. The bearded man had been pointing his pistol at Stu. When the young blond woman screamedohne Namen, "Now!," the barnicht reagiert) rel jerked slightly toward her, like a divining rod sensing*Blond und Mann 2 kämpfen um sein Gewehr water. It went off, making a loud noise like a piece of steel*1 Frau sucht Gewehr von Mann 1 being punched through cardboard. Stu fell off his bike and Frannie screamed his name. Then Stu was up on both elbows *Mann 3 (both were scraped from hitting the road, andthe Honda was lying on one of his legsItalian), firing. The bearded man seemed to dancebackward like a vaudeville hoofer leaving the stage after his encore. The fadedplaid shirt he was wearing puffed and billowed. His pistol, an automatic, jerkedup toward the sky and that steel-punching-through-cardboard sound happened fourmore times. He fell over on his back. Two of the three men behind him had jerked around at the blond woman's cry.One pulled both triggers of the weapon he was holding, an old-fashionedRemington twelvegauge. The stock of the gun was not resting against anything -hewas holding it outside his right hip-and when it went off with a sound like athunderclap in a small room, it flew backward out of his hands, ripping skinfrom his fingers as it went. It clattered on the road. The face of one of thewomen who had not reacted to the blond woman's shout dissolved in anunbelievable fury of blood, and for a moment Frannie could actually hear bloodraining down on the pavement, as if there had been a sudden shower. One eyepeered unharmed through the mask of blood this woman now wore. It was dazed andunknowing. Then the woman fell forward onto the road. The Country Squire stationwagon behind her was peppered with buckshot. One of the windows was a cataractof milky cracks. The blond girl grappled with the second man who had turned toward her. Therifle the man held went off between their bodies. One of the girls scrambled forthe lost shotgun. The third man, who had not turned toward the women, began to fire at schießt auf Fran.Frannie sat astride her bike, her rifle in her hands, blinking stpidly at him.He was an oliveskinned man who looked Italian. She felt a bullet drone by herleft temple.verfehlt *Harold had finally gotten one of his pistols free. He raised it and fired atthe olive-skinned man. The distance was about fifteen paces. He missed. A bullethole appeared in the skin of the pink housetrailer just to the left of theolive-skinned man's head. The olive-skinned man looked at Harold and saidschießt auf Mann 3, verfehlt, "Nowlässt Waffen fallen und ergibt sichI gonna keel-a you*Mann 3 verfehlt harold 3 mal, you sonnabeesh." "Don't do that!" Harold screamed. He dropped his pistol and held out his openund Glen fallen mit Yamaha umhands. The olive-skinned man fired three times at Harold. All three shots missed. Thethird round came the closest to doing damage; it screamed off the exhaust-pipe20 Sekundeof Harold's Yamaha. It fell over, spilling Harold and Glen off.