Crack! Zing! Splintering wood. “Nope,” Bernie said, “I don’t find this exhilarating at all.” He lost me there, but I don’t expect to understand Bernie all the time. His job is to be the smartest human in the room. My job is to do the rest.
Bernie, real quick, rolled out from under the biplane wreckage protecting us and, lying on his back, fired the .38 Special practically straight up in the air. The .38 Special was always exciting, and all of a sudden there I was, out in the open. From high above on the rocky cliff came a cry of pain, and something came spinning down through the air, landing close to me and raising a small cloud of dust. Hey! A rifle! I went to pick it up, and at that moment heard another crack from above.
Friends of Chet still at the repair shop. Will be up and working soon.
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