The Retirement

Summers chuckled, stepping out of the room. Kingston took advantage of his absence. He leaned forward, close to Becky’s face. “You’re not like them, Doctor.” His voice was smooth and flowed like honey. “You can get us out of here, and I can still make it worth your while.”

Before he could continue, Becky drew her pistol, putting the barrel flat against his forehead. He could see the hammer was cocked and the safety was off.

“This has been your trouble all these years, Dick,” said Jon, who’d returned when he saw the movement. “You continually misjudge people. You appropriately took the Flower Child here to be a pacifist. You were one hundred percent right on that.”

Kingston looked into Becky’s eyes and saw no remorse or fear—only a deep, dark well of cold determination. He knew there would be no hesitation. She was going to kill him. He’d fully lost all control, all power, over the situation.

“I have to say, Flower Child, that was one of the smoothest draws I’ve ever seen. Cleared the holster, hammer cocked and safety off in one graceful motion. Almost like you’ve done that your whole life,” said Jon. “You see, Dick, she may be a pacifist, but she’s a devoted mother and grandmother, and you endangered her family more than once. She’s also an Army brat, brought up around weapons. I’m sure that’s the reason she was such a good pacifist.”

Jon gently put his hand on Becky’s shoulder. “Becky, he’s not worth it; you’d never forgive yourself.”

Becky’s eyes softened, and a smile slowly crossed her face.

Kingston blushed with embarrassment.

“Was it really that good?” she asked Jon, smirking as she lowered the firearm, putting it back into its holster.

“You have no idea.” Jon laughed. “Almost better than sex.”