still smiling, he brings up his right hand out of a shopping bag – letting the shopping bag fall away as he does so – revealing a five-inch barrel smith and wesson .357 blue finish revolver with a silencer. without hesitating, coming right on, still smiling, he fires once.
coming right on, firing again.  the pistol's report a whooshing, like the opening of a bottle of cheap champagne. and mcelroy still smiling as:
lowering the pistol alongside his leg, as two men, barely taking notice of anything, cross with their backs to book toward mcelroy.
she say where he is?
tight. but i'm working on him.
weird, man. no fuckin' electricity. what do you figure they plug all their shit into?
he's not in this building.
fergie?
moving out toward the center of the barn, almost under the suspended hay fork. he stops short, listens. then, either spotting a moving shadow or hearing a sound, he fires. his shot rattles off the side of a manure spreader. he shouts:
book, you sneaky bastard, i know you're here! come out and fight!
as he turns toward the sound of book's voice.
eyes darting wildly, looking up.
diving to one side.
staring at the fork pop-eyed.
spotting book, coming up to one knee, quick-aiming, firing. the shot smashes the windshield of the car.
firing again, then again. emptying the gun, cursing as he begins to reload, gets to his feet, starts toward the ladder. the bell still sounding outside. the hood of the car slowly
turning slowly toward the cowpen.  then fires twice as his eye catches the motion of the swinging door. his shots blow half a row of eli's precious tools off an adjacent wall. mcelroy reloads, starts across toward the door.
moving among the cows, stepping cautiously between the cowflops.
climbing with difficulty, shotgun clutched in one hand.
rattling up the other ladder, approaching the third kickboard.
startled, reacting. he sets his feet, leans back against the back wall of the ladder well, brings the shotgun up, puts the muzzle against the kickboard, clicks off the safety.
his forward motion has carried him across the silo. his head bounds off the white brick wall about five feet up.  and he falls in a heap, blood gushing from his head, as.