"What'er they doin'?" Nichole asked. Hunkered behind an overturned table across the room, she clutched a Berreta like a lover.
"Dunno. They're all milling around some kind of contraption. Gettin' smart, I guess." His knuckles whitened around the gun. "Wait...oh..." Ralphie crouched and scampered away from the window. "Brace yourself."
A distant, muted thump sounded, followed by a moment of silence, then a thunderous crash above them, the sound of something big and wet--like a bushel bag of cooked oats--hitting a sheet of metal.
Nichole frowned at Ralphie. "What the hell was that?"
"One of them. They've built some sort of catapult, tryin' to get in the roof. Not too smart, yet..."
Thanks to Cate Gardner for the title (hence the Queen's English spelling, eh?)