Psyc 03_The Call of the Mild Read Online Free PDF

make me kill you.”

Chapter Six
     
     
     
     
     
     
    T here was another long, silent moment.
    “I thought you weren’t supposed to talk,” Shawn finally said.
    “Put your hands up,” the mime said through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
    “Absolutely.” Shawn’s arms shot up in the air. Gus’ followed quickly.
    “Now turn around and walk towards the bathrooms.”
    Shawn and Gus turned around, their hands high in the air. Shawn waved his back and forth, trying to attract some attention.
    “You’re never going to get away with this,” Gus said. “There are dozens of witnesses.”
    “And they’re all staring right at us,” Shawn said, waving his hands wildly. With each wave, another few people turned towards them.
    Gus and Shawn exchanged a look; then Gus shouted to the throng of parents, kids, and gardeners who were staring at them from the snack bar area. “Help! He’s got a gun!”
    Gus didn’t know what to expect. Best-case scenario would be a squad of beefy, well-armed security experts descending on them. Second best might be dozens of cell phones dialing 911 at the same instant. He would have settled for one irate mom with a canister of pepper spray on her keychain.
    What he didn’t expect was what happened. The crowd was still for a moment. Then they burst into laughter.
    “Don’t laugh,” Gus commanded them. “This is serious. He could kill us!”
    But the crowd only laughed harder.
    “Has this whole town gone crazy?” Gus asked Shawn.
    “Look behind you,” Shawn said.
    Gus risked a glance over his shoulder. The mime had hidden his gun under his shirt. To the crowd of onlookers, it might well have been his finger. His painted face was alternating between a mask of furious anger and an impressively accurate impersonation of Gus’ fear.
    “I so do not look like that,” Gus said.
    “Really?” Shawn said. “This man is holding us at gunpoint, and you’re worried that his imitation of you is too mean?”
    The killer mime said something urgent and harsh. It sounded like “ash oon.” Shawn and Gus turned back to look at him and saw that as he said the syllables again, his ruby lips were locked into an evil scowl. Because of course he couldn’t let his audience see him speaking.
    “Ash oon?” Shawn said. “I’m afraid we don’t know what that is.”
    There was a click from under the mime’s shirt. He had cocked the pistol.
    “But if you wanted us to step into the bathroom, we could do that,” Shawn said.
    As the crowd cheered them on, Shawn and Gus marched towards the public restrooms, a low, wide building faced with river rock and brown-painted wood.
    “Inside,” the mime hissed. Shawn pushed the door open and led Gus in. The mime followed them inside and slid a latch locked behind them, as the faint sounds of applause came through the walls.
    The bathroom was surprisingly clean for a public facility in midsummer. The linoleum floor was shiny and dry; the three stalls’ white paint was fresh and unmarked by graffiti. All the discarded paper towels had somehow made it into the receptacles. And the room deodorizer was a mild clove scent.
    Still, there were many other places Gus would have preferred to be. And none of them contained gun-toting mimes.
    “Take off your clothes and throw them on the ground,” the mime said.
    Shawn winced. “My mother always told me not to take off my clothes for strange men in a public restroom.”
    “Then I’ll shoot you,” the mime said. “If I have to kill you to protect Rushmore, I will.”
    “I know some people really love that movie,” Shawn said,
    “but this seems a little over the top. And can you really tell me that Olivia Williams would have ever forgiven that idiot kid after he almost killed Bill Murray?”
    “Stop it!” the mime shouted. “Get undressed now!”
    “I don’t see a back door in this building,” Gus said. “Once you pull that trigger, everyone outside will know you’re not