“And if he doesn't?”
“Then I'll know the soldier boys over there are wise to that angle, too. And I'll have to figure out another way.”
“I see,” Jonesy said and lapsed into silence.
“This gun,” Gary said after a while, “where did he get it?”
“From my store.”
“Your store?”
“A sporting goods store where I worked before the… the disaster. Near here, so to speak. Harry wanted a good shotgun and I selected that one for him.”
“Where's yours?”
“I don't have one — Harry wouldn't permit it. And I've never fired a shot in my life.”
A short distance away the thin old man lay on the ground, openly weeping and oblivious to those around him.