And there’s Bart. He’s come out of the office area, and he’s moving forward slowly near the wall. Hanging from its broad suspension harness, shock pad firmly against his right hip, the auto-shotgun is at the ready. Even mounted on a suspension harness, the AS7 is big and bulky enough to make most people clumsy. Not Bart; he’s big and bulky himself, and strong enough to lug the killer weapon around like it weighed no more than a feather. I’ve got to take that into account, as well as the fact that he’s probably strong enough to ride out the recoil of multiple bursts. For all I know, he might have jiggered the gun so it’s capable of full autofire. Not at all a pleasant thought. I lose sight of him for a moment behind an abnormally high pile of crates, and my stomach twists with sudden fear. Maybe he knows where I am, and he’s moving in for a clean shot ... But then the big brutal muzzle pokes out into the open again, followed by Bart himself, and I breathe a little easier.