My friend Vic has gone off, and is shooting people with a handgun. I sneak into this building to try to stop him, but I'm afraid to get close because he might shoot me. It's a small wooden building, like a little old church. Peeking around a corner, I can see him at a table, interviewing this young boy about eight years old. Vic seems disgusted with his answers, and pulls out the gun and shoots him, knocking him back off the chair and dead on the floor. The room is full of carnage and scared kids. I think he lets some of them go, but some he kills.

Then I'm sitting outside in the yard, and Vic is there too, but he still has the gun and is still very dangerous. I'm trying to get ahold of a phone so I can call the police without angering him, but being really secretive about it.

He has set the gun down by his leg. We're sitting in sort of a circle with a few other people, and I'm across from him. I ponder whether I could lunge for the gun, but I'm not entirely sure I could beat him to it, and then he would be mad and probably shoot me. I keep an eye on it, but don't make a move.

Then my friend Mark, who is sitting to Vic's left, has some reason to lean over, getting very close to grabbing the gun. He silently indicates grabbing the gun, looking at me with questioning face as if asking me if he should, and I give him a subtle nod - yes, grab it!

He grabs the gun and passes it quickly to me, and we run into the churchlike building and up some stairs, where we can call the police. But then Mark seems to have turned on me, or I've turned on him, and he wants to take the gun. I point it at him down the stairs: don't you dare take a step closer. He keeps coming, and I know that I have to make good on my threats, so I reluctantly pull the trigger. The gun makes a harmless click; it is empty. Everyone is disarmed.

"I was pointing that at your legs," I say, "I didn't really want to hurt you."