Gus grabbed for Wash again, who was still too stunned to move. He just blinked at me, an expression more of curiosity than pain, like he was just really intrigued by the mystery of his own bashed-in head. I huddled up against Jezza, put both feet on Wash’s side, and shoved him out of the booth before Gus could get a grip on him. I rolled myself under the table right after, and hit the beer-soaked concrete with both elbows. It sent lightning bolts of pain up the long bones in my arms. “What do I do? What do I do?!” Jezza screeched from somewhere above. His voice cracked and wobbled. “Run,
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The action writing: nonexistent pacing, clunky timing, incomprehensible blocking
