“Ramsey,” he chokes, and that’s all he manages to get out before
Ramsey shoves Maclin away from him and at the crowd, at me.
Fingers claw in my shirt as Maclin staggers back, searching for
purchase, but Dylan steps in front of me, knocks the grasping hands
away.
Maclin rams into the colonists behind us and
they scatter out of his way. I see surprise flit across his face as
he lands on his ass, hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and
before he can get his breath back, Ramsey is there, fisting a hand
into his shirt, hauling him up, tossing him against the counter
with a sickening crunchthat sounds like splintering wood or
bone. “Ramsey!” Conlan cries again.
Maclin sinks to the floor, an arm wrapped
around his narrow chest, holding bruised or broken ribs, his head
hanging in defeat, but Ramsey advances on him, kicks his leg aside
and pulls him up again. When Conlan grabs his arm, tries to
intervene, Ramsey shrugs him away. “Get out of here, Jeremy,” he