Time to leave. Right now. The shotgun blast came from the right side of the truck, the passenger side. So I scramble out from under the driver’s side. Fire comes from above, hosing down the ground in front of me. Trideo shows to the contrary, it’s surprisingly difficult to fire accurately from a higher elevation. I return fire in the rough direction of the muzzle-flashes. Little chance of actually hitting anything, which is fine by me, but there’s nothing more disruptive to a gunman’s concentration than a bullet past the ear. When Katrina went down, she fell against the driver’s side door, shutting it. The cargo door’s still open, though—with a crate of ARs half-in half-out—so that’s the way I dive into the Bulldog.