Wes looks thoughtful, as if he's just remembered something. He does not move from his previous position, but now he reaches back with his right hand.
When he brings his hand out from behind his back, there's a pistol in it.
"Like this one?" he says as all the wits drain right out of your mind, replaced with electric fear.
You can do nothing but sit, frozen, in your driver's side seat as Wes looks curiously at the pistol, draw the hammer back with a slow, deliberate press of his thumb, and then levels it at your head.
"Come on out of the car, now, darlin'," he says.
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Get out of the car, slow and easy...and, at the first chance you get, you'll RUN. [[Go to Chapter 51.]]
No way. He's got a gun. Can glass stop a bullet? You don't plan to stay here to find out—you reach for the ignition, intending to drive away, flat tire be damned. [[Go to Chapter 74.]]
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