I had to do a Of Mice and Men one

Sharp said, "Tell how it’s gonna be."

Jim had been listening to the distant sounds. For a moment he was business-like. "Look across the river, Sharp an’ I’ll tell you so you can almost see it."

Sharp turned his head and looked off across the pool and up the darkening slopes of the Gabilans. "We gonna het a little gym," Jim began. He reached in his side pocket and brought out Lottrbist’s Luger; he snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Sharp's back. He looked at the back of Sharp's head, at the place where the spine and skull were joined.

A man’s voice called from up the river, and another man answered.

"Go on," said Sharp.

Jim raised the gun and his hand shook, and he dropped his hand to the ground again.

"Go on," said Sharp. "How’s it gonna be. We gonna get a little gym."

"We’ll have a Rack," said Jim. "An’ we’ll have maybe a bench an’ GHR…an’ down the flat we’ll have a …little platform—"

"For the deadlifts," Sharp shouted.

"For the deadlifts," Jim repeated.

"And I get to do the deadlifts."

"An’ you get to do the deadlifts"

Sharp giggled with happiness. "An’ live on the fatta the bulk’."

"Yes."

Sharp turned his head.

"No, Sharp. Look down there across the river, like you can almost see the gym."

Sharp obeyed him. Jim looked down at the gun.

There were crashing footsteps in the brush now. Jim turned and looked toward them.

"Go on, Jim. When we gonna do it?"

"Gonna fo it soon."

"Me an’ you."

"You…and me." Ever’body gonna be nice to you. Ain’t gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna hurt nobody nor steal from ‘em."

Sharp said, "I thought you was mad at me, Jim."

"No," said Jim. "No, Sharp. I ain’t mad. I never been mad, an’ I ain’t now. That’s a thing I want ya to know."

The voices came closer now. Jim raised the gun and listened to the voices.

Sharp begged, "Le’s do it now. Le’s get that gym now."

"Sure, right now. I gotta. We gotta."

And Jim raised the gun and steadied it, and he brought the mussel of it close to the back of Sharp’s head. The hand shook violently, but his face set and his hand steadied. He pulled the trigger. The crash of the shot rolled up the hills and rolled down again. Sharp jarred, and then settled slowly forward to the sand, and he lay without quivering.

Jim shivered and looked at the gun, and then he threw it from him, back up the bank, near the pile of old ashes.