"Jump for the ceiling light bracket and hold on. It’s a Harmonic gun. Jump!" Church gasped and leaped up into the darkness. Powell gripped Tate’s shaking arm. "Too short, Gus? Hold out your hands. I’ll toss you." He flung Tate upward and followed himself, clawing for the steel spider arms of the bracket. The three hung in space, cushioned against the murderous vibrations enveloping the store ... vibrations that created shattering harmonics in every substance in contact with the floor. Glass, steel, stone, plastic ... all screeched and burst apart. They could hear the floor cracking, and the ceiling thundered. Tate groaned.