BAROOM!​                                                                                                     The sonic cannon blew Gramps' front door into sawdust. The "people" on the other side of the door, dozens of them, dissolved. For a heartbeat, the area right in front of Gramps' door was clear.

     He stepped on to his front porch. He carried a ray blaster on his shoulder, already switched on.

​     He garden hosed the attackers with a ray intense and zzzizzzing and as round as a dinner plate. It sliced through the populace, creating a goo-mist effect for dozens of replacers at a time.

​     Then the ray sliced through the top half of a cab.

     Oops.   

     The cab driver saw what the ray did to everyone else and dove out just in time. The ray still managed to singe the back of his scalp.

     "Aaaahhhh!"

     "Bye," Gramps said.   

     He disappeared. What he wore and what he held turned invisible with him.

     He dropped the blaster as he dove to his left and rolled. Bullets from a dozen different sources filled the air where he'd been only a moment before.

     He rolled back to his feet and ran for the family van.

     Although it was more than merely a van, really.  

     Much more.

​     It looked just like your average family van, though.

     He rolled under it.

     "In," he said.

     A hatch on the bottom slid open, allowing Gramps to crawl into the van itself. He heard hundreds of bullets slam into its outer hull. No problem. His van couldn't be more bullet-proof.

​     "Claudia," he said.

​                                                  CONTINUE

​