"But--"
"Damn you--get a gun!"
Murdo staggered away. It seemed a year before he came back with a
Hinzie Special .442. The leopard was tight, ready to spring. I didn't
dare move a muscle. I said, "Over my shoulder. Get him. Don't miss."
That last was a little silly. How could a man miss with a Hinzie at
ten feet? Murdo fired and tore the leopard's head off. It was down
already so it didn't move. It sat there headless, its tail twitching
slightly. Then it was still.
I didn't hesitate this time. I said, "Come on. We've got to get this
out of here before the others show."
We put the dead leopard into the forward storage bunker. Then I picked
up poor Jane and carried her to her room. Murdo helped me up the
ladder. The others were in the companionway and they pressed back in
horror to let me pass. For the first time since we'd started, Keebler
was sober. Ashen, shaking, stone sober. He broke; screamed and ran for
his bottle, the world of reality too terrible for him to bear.
There was no huddle, no conference, no meeting of the minds. Everyone
else went to the galley and sat staring into space; stared at the
dancing little sparkles in the air.