Chapter 17 - Page 258 - Trouble In Chicago

   "Jimbo," Clyde said, "I wanna see the look on your face when I pull the trigger."

   "Clyde," Jim begged, "let the girls move out of the way first."

   Clyde chuckled. "What a man," he mocked. "A real hero." Clyde leveled his gun at Jim.

   Jim saw his finger tightening on the trigger. He tensed.

   Clyde's finger paused. Jim lifted his eyes from the gun to Clyde's face. He was staring at the sky.

   Jim looked up too. There was something strange about the weather. Clouds rolled across the sky like waves rolling across the ocean. They moved from the east to the west, then back again. Lightning flashed and thunder groaned. A humming sound grew louder and louder, then began to pulsate. After a few seconds, it faded to soft and ceased. Everything seemed to go into slow motion. Not a sound could be heard. Not a leaf fluttered on the trees.

   Clyde spoke, but his words came out slow and sounded bass-deep, as though dragging from a record player playing at a low speed. "Your . . . tricks . . . aren't . . . going . . . to . . . save . . . you . . . driver. What . . . are . . . you, some . . . kind . . . of . . . freak?"

   Clyde looked scared, confused by what was happening. A large blue bubble had surrounded Jim, Rhasha, and Shanha and lifted them two feet off the ground. Angry that Jim might escape, Clyde pulled the trigger, but nothing seemed to happen. He pulled the trigger several more times, as fast as he could while moving in slow motion, but there was a two-second interval between each discharge.

   Jim, Rhasha, and Shanha could see the bullets coming toward them, moving so slowly that they looked like they would fall to the ground. As each bullet hit the blue glowing bubble, sparks radiated in every direction.