Dorothy scrambled over the plastic wreckage and threw herself at Sade, but the flat of his palm met her face and hurled her aside. The line of fire moved to Norman's toes again, and he stepped back his last step. Like a cobra wavering before its prey, the flame swept back and forth across the floor, inches from Norman's toes, scorching the floor under his feet. He glanced down at the crimson mist, leaping like a fountain under the splinters of plastic jutting out over it. Then he realized that fate had given him his chance—for a price.
He had come to Vulcan to find something to save Johnny's life. In the tank in the cruiser out on the field was the fluid that could do that. On the broken wall below him, just over the fountain of death, a piece of the wreckage jutted outward two feet—he could leap to that, swing clear of the mist and reach the ship and be free. He could save Johnny—by leaving Dorothy behind.
There could be no compromise. He had no doubt that Sade would kill her the instant he realized the trick.
Norman glanced back into Sade's triumphant smile. Suddenly he returned the smile and laughed out loud. "When'd you take your last vaccination, Sade!" he laughed. "Did you know your hair had turned white?"
Sade held his smile as steady as his gun. "I'm not leaving you and look for a mirror," he said. "No tricks will save you this time. Those shots are good for 24 hours."
"Not with all this raw stuff in the air," Norman laughed. "Look how your hands have withered."
"What matter," Sade said, "my Fountain of Youth can restore me again." But his smile loosened, and quick as light his glance dropped to his hands. Norman's knees straightened like steel springs. The length of flame seared his hip as he sprang. Then his fist piled into Sade's heavy jaw.
The gun flew out and down into the mist. Sade hit the floor rolling and struggled to his feet as Norman was on him like a hurricane. He crossed jabs into his face with both fists then stepped back and swung a long arc that crushed the big man's nose. Sade stumbled backward, screamed, arms flailing the air wildly, and fell backward off the edge of the floor.
Norman stepped over and looked down. Deep in the eery rainbow mist that swirled around him, Sade scrambled to his feet and looked around frantically, confused with the colors. His hair turned snow white, his round cheeks tightened across the bones of his face and his big belly vanished in his baggy clothes. He held his hands up before his face and forgot Norman to stare at his skeleton-like fingers. Then, his hands still raised before his eyes, he sank to the ground as his legs collapsed. The shoes fell off his bony feet as he lay there writhing.
Norman shook his head, rubbed his eyes. Sade wasn't writhing. It was the wind rustling his clothes.