He quickly fired with both eyes open. There was no time to aim, no time to even think. The shot lit the shadows for a brief second and gave him a better count. There were three of them. The closest was only ten feet away.
He pumped the action and pulled the trigger again. With his ears ringing from the first shot, the metallic click of the firing pin striking a dead round echoed. Suddenly time slowed. His insides tightened as his mind raced. He yanked the foregrip back and the misfired shell was thrown against the wall. Slamming the next round into the chamber, the gun fired and there was silence. Buckshot was always very effective in these conditions.
There was only enough light in the narrow hallway to make out the outline of a single tangled shape on the floor. The walls and floor now glistened with flecks of light. The stinging smell of smoke surrounded him and he knew this close call was over.
He knelt down to examine the misfired shell.
"Time to do some shopping. These surplus antiques are not cutting it." he thought.
