... Excerpt
"Fracking is killing our grandchildren. Burning oil is killing..."
Gus touched the long gun under his buttoned coat and felt the reassuring pressure of the four revolvers. . . .
He moved into the meeting room and stepped quickly along the back wall, undoing his long raincoat as he went. The young woman at the microphone continued to harangue the corporation's officers. 'Gorgeous red hair,' thought Gus. Stay focused. He began moving down the side of the room.
"...so what actions are you taking?" the speaker finished her question and stood glaring at the row of old white men. Gus stepped into the space between the front row and the head table and began to spray with his long gun. Emptying it, he dropped the gun on its carrying strap and turned up the center aisle toward the back of the room. Pulling a revolver from under each shoulder, he began targeting the most excitable members of the audience.
On his right, a timid fellow scrambling out of a row got a slug in his back. A woman on his left with an obnoxiously pink dress screamed as a shot hit her. Halfway to the back of the room, Gus slammed the revolvers into holsters without noticing a clatter as he came to a dead stop in front of the microphone. 'Truly beautiful,' he thought. Under the mane of red hair was a freckled face with no hint of apprehension and a curve of incredulous laughter forming on her lips.
Coming to his senses, Gus swung past her, pulled the second pair of pistols and shot randomly into the crowd before pushing out of the door. Holstering the revolvers, he strode across the lobby and through a street door, adding the wail of fire alarms to the general confusion.
Gus tugged a hat from his pocket and began stuffing his unruly hair into it as he walked briskly along the sidewalk. He muttered, "Stay in step with everyone else and don't draw attention," like a mantra until halfway down the second block, where he was able to turn into a rather narrow alley between two buildings. ...