Harold felt the muscles in his neck tighten into hard knots. The skin on his right hand had blistered like a hot dog on a grill, and he perceived every inch of burning pain as he lay there. He filled his lungs with a gasping breath. He gritted his teeth, his eyelids pressed together. He pictured the bullet spewing forth from the barrel, touching down between his eyebrows. His rigid legs pressed against the cool concrete.

In darkness and agony, Harold waited.

A second ticked by. And another. He heard no blast, no roar of the metal mouth as it vomited out his speeding explosive death.

Five more seconds . Why hadn’t the shot gone off? Had the powder refused to light? Had explosion of his own weapon sprayed boiling water onto his assailant as well? A sliver of light crept into his vision as he cracked open one eyelid.

Ten seconds later, racked with fear and pain, his body twisted so tight in anticipation he felt as if his jaws had fused together, Harold opened his eyes.

The thug grinned. The gun roared.