while Janey tried to keep the gun pointed at him.
"Come on, punk," said Janey. "Make my day."
A delivery van was coming down the street and passed between Janey and the tanker just as the gun went off. This time Janey kept her footing, though the gun flew above her head again and out of her hands. She had missed Spot, but the van's front right tire made a popping sound and blew into shreds. The van dipped forward onto the rim of the wheel and skidded toward the hydrant in front of her house, shrieking as it grated on the concrete road surface and sent sparks in lazy parabolas. Some fell in the gas, igniting it. A trail of flame ran along the curbing, crossed the street behind the van, rippled up the grass like a pale blue snake, then went up the stream of liquid to the tiny bullet hole in the side of the tanker.
The explosion was largely contained within the tanker’s skin, but Janey felt something slap both sides of her head. Jostled by a gust of hot wind, she saw the tanker cab lift several feet off the ground and slam back down. The metal skin along the top of the tanker was peeled back in a broad gash and a roiling ball of flame shot high above the houses.
10