"I will," the boy answered, and Hurtz could hear the click of the safety going off. "I'll do exactly what I want to do about it. Are you ready?"
Hurtz watched the pistol in the boy's hands. Then he threw himself sideways, rolling across the cabin, trying to find protection as the pistol cracked again and again. When the sound had stopped and silence had settled itself heavily over the cabin, Hurtz lay half-sprawled, looking at the boy.
He knew none of the shots had struck him and the surprise of this made his position on the floor seem, for a moment, very foolish. Then he realized what the boy had hit—the radio and the replacement cabinet full of extra parts.
From his twisted position on the floor the boy had done a very effective job of splintering every part of their communication system.
Sudden anger ran through Hurtz and he pushed himself up to stand flush-faced, watching the smiling boy. "You've gone crazy," he said.
The boy shook his head, his fingers still clutching the pistol. "No. I really haven't. But you will, Hurtz. Because you aren't going anywhere now. No place at all. You're going to stay right here, because you can't get help now."
"The hell I can't," Hurtz said, but he knew as he said it, that the statement was a childish reaction, and that in truth he couldn't.