The gun swiveled, attempting to swing its turret beneath itself. The Special grabbed one barrel, burning his hand, the barrel hot from gunfire, but not letting go. The machine pushed with tremendous force. Randal held it at bay for now. He spotted an access panel near the top on the wall-facing side. But he couldn’t get to it. One hand held the gun barrel and the other gave him leverage to push back. Letting go of either meant the guns could pivot and fire.

He eyed the hall; still no guards. Then back to the gun. He had an idea.