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Then he took a bullet in the back. He crashed head-first into the mirror, then fell to the floor. His AK47 clattered. Harry Tasker holstered his side arm and then picked up the machine gun. He checked the clip. It was full. Just the way he liked it. Harry unloaded on a shotgun-wielding terrorist. Bullets tore into the meat of him. The terrorist’s shotgun went off when it hit the floor, nearly missing Harry. A wall was gored. Lath flew. There was noise outside the news office. It was a loud engine mixed with crushing. And machine gunfire, lots and lots of machine gunfire. Harry was unsure. He moved closer to a second-floor window, looked out. He could see…he saw the impossible. It was a monster vehicle, a red-and-white big foot with a mini gun mounted to the back. A terrorist was firing the mini gun like he just signed a blank check on destruction derby. Cop cruisers, those left standing, were either shredded to pieces or squashed flat by the bigger-higher truck. A SWAT van exploded. Harry moved away from
the window. He returned to the remaining hostages. A few were bloodied. They steadied their eyes on Harry as he passed them. Harry hurried. There wasn’t much time left. On the street, a cop firing his service revolver was smashed by the big foot’s five hundred pound wheels. Buckets of blood were tossed in every direction. Another cop lost a foot under the onslaught. He hobbled around in pain until a scorching mini gun undressed him head to toe. Harry met two unprepared SWAT sharpshooters on the roof of the news building. They were getting into position. “Gimme that thing,” Harry said, reaching for a sniper rifle. “You take too long.” He snatched the gun from a sharpshooter, who unwillingly gave it up. A second later the terrorist getting jiggity on a mini gun was in the crosshairs of a highpowered rifle manned by a crack shot. Harry proved it by putting a round into the head of the moving terrorist. The head burst like a canned party popper. Harry fired onto the big foot. A wheel was flattened. A flank was peppered. Glass shattered. Harry didn’t let up until the big foot swerved precariously around a corner, disappearing from sight.
Through the scope of the rifle, Harry surveyed the wreckage on the street. Bodies, those of the good and bad guys, lay strewn around burning cars and blown-out store fronts. Empty shell casings glimmered like mica. It was a war zone down there. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The carnage was over, for now.