He turned suddenly then, slamming the bat into the ribcage of a man running past. Then something crossed his mind. I should have brought the gun. Uncle B had given it to him for his birthday, and he'd been getting better with it. Maybe a gun would scare people more than the threat of having their skulls bashed in. Maybe they'd just leave, if it came to staring down a barrel. Right?
"Nevermind," he told Brandon, backing away toward the nearest staircase. "Go, do whatever, I have something to find. Go."