from the cleaning supplies and ran them through each rifle. He wadded up the snakes and handed them to Jeffrey along with the cleaning fluid. “Put these in your pack,” he said, “and put some damn flashlights on these rifles.” Jeffrey took the snakes and started looking for the tactical flashlights while Richard went back to the displays and picked out slings for each gun. He attached them, then went and picked up his pack. It was only half full, so he topped it off with ammunition. He added an extra Mossberg 500 shotgun after removing the barrel, then zipped up the pack and hefted it to his shoulders.
“Dammit,” he muttered, struggling to lift it. He opened the pack and reluctantly removed the extra shotgun and barrel, then starting pulling out ammo boxes. He kept three hundred rounds of .22 long rifle, three hundred rounds of .30-06 premium, two hundred rounds of buckshot and fifty rounds of 12 gauge slugs. He added them back to the pack and lifted it again.
“Better,” he muttered. He looked around for Jeffrey and saw him heading to the camping supplies. “Hey Jeffrey!” he yelled. “Get me a sleeping bag!”
“Alright!” called Jeffrey. “I’ll get a nice pink one for you.” Maybe some humor would lighten him up.
“It better have a woman in it!” Richard yelled back. He heard Jeffrey laugh. He picked up the extra ammo boxes and took them to the safe that Jeffrey was using. There were several on display, so he took all the best guns and ammunition and stuffed them into the safe. Jeffrey walked up behind him and handed him a compact camouflage sleeping bag.
“Lock it up,” said Richard. Jeffrey closed the door.
“Combination is 9-5-0,” said Jeffrey. He spun the wheels and stepped back. Richard walked up to the safe and set the wheels to 9-5-0, then opened the safe.
“Get any ammo you need,” he told Jeffrey. “The good stuff is all in here.” Jeffrey looked in, then grabbed several boxes of the same rounds Richard took, plus five boxes of .40 caliber for his pistol.
“I wish this crap joint sold pistols,” said Richard. “Closest place I know of is about seven miles in the wrong damn direction.”
“Maybe we'll find someone willing to part with theirs on the way,” said Jeffrey.
“I should be so lucky,” said Richard. “Let's find a spot to camp out and head out in the morning.” He turned around, shining his flashlight around the store. “Maybe a manager's office or something.”
A scraping noise sounded at the front of the store.
“Did you lock the front door?” asked Richard.
“Aww damn,” said Jeffrey, pulling the manager's keys from his pocket. “No, I went right for the guns.”
“Well, let's go say hi to the neighbors,” said Richard, unslinging his shotgun and dropping his pack. A light shined at the front, and Richard turned off his headlamp and motioned for Jeffrey to do the same. “Watch your fields of fire. I'll be in front, you stay behind and to my left. I'll cover 180 in front so stay the hell back. Go!”
The pair walked silently forward through the middle of store, taking cover behind various displays.
“Hello?” called someone, a man's voice. “I saw a light, is there someone here? We're looking for camping supplies. I have cash.”
Richard stopped and looked back at Jeffrey and shook his head, grinning. He turned back and called out, “Walk to the middle of the aisles and shine that light on yourself,” he called out to the man. “Jeffrey,” he whispered, “go left and see if there's anyone else in the store. Stay hidden.”
“Roger,” said Jeffrey. He headed left, his shotgun held in front of him.
A figure walked to the center and directed his flashlight up. “Is this okay?” he called. He was a young man, probably late twenties or early thirties, wearing a Red Sox cap and looking nervously at Richard.
“Is there anyone else with you?” asked
“Dammit,” he muttered, struggling to lift it. He opened the pack and reluctantly removed the extra shotgun and barrel, then starting pulling out ammo boxes. He kept three hundred rounds of .22 long rifle, three hundred rounds of .30-06 premium, two hundred rounds of buckshot and fifty rounds of 12 gauge slugs. He added them back to the pack and lifted it again.
“Better,” he muttered. He looked around for Jeffrey and saw him heading to the camping supplies. “Hey Jeffrey!” he yelled. “Get me a sleeping bag!”
“Alright!” called Jeffrey. “I’ll get a nice pink one for you.” Maybe some humor would lighten him up.
“It better have a woman in it!” Richard yelled back. He heard Jeffrey laugh. He picked up the extra ammo boxes and took them to the safe that Jeffrey was using. There were several on display, so he took all the best guns and ammunition and stuffed them into the safe. Jeffrey walked up behind him and handed him a compact camouflage sleeping bag.
“Lock it up,” said Richard. Jeffrey closed the door.
“Combination is 9-5-0,” said Jeffrey. He spun the wheels and stepped back. Richard walked up to the safe and set the wheels to 9-5-0, then opened the safe.
“Get any ammo you need,” he told Jeffrey. “The good stuff is all in here.” Jeffrey looked in, then grabbed several boxes of the same rounds Richard took, plus five boxes of .40 caliber for his pistol.
“I wish this crap joint sold pistols,” said Richard. “Closest place I know of is about seven miles in the wrong damn direction.”
“Maybe we'll find someone willing to part with theirs on the way,” said Jeffrey.
“I should be so lucky,” said Richard. “Let's find a spot to camp out and head out in the morning.” He turned around, shining his flashlight around the store. “Maybe a manager's office or something.”
A scraping noise sounded at the front of the store.
“Did you lock the front door?” asked Richard.
“Aww damn,” said Jeffrey, pulling the manager's keys from his pocket. “No, I went right for the guns.”
“Well, let's go say hi to the neighbors,” said Richard, unslinging his shotgun and dropping his pack. A light shined at the front, and Richard turned off his headlamp and motioned for Jeffrey to do the same. “Watch your fields of fire. I'll be in front, you stay behind and to my left. I'll cover 180 in front so stay the hell back. Go!”
The pair walked silently forward through the middle of store, taking cover behind various displays.
“Hello?” called someone, a man's voice. “I saw a light, is there someone here? We're looking for camping supplies. I have cash.”
Richard stopped and looked back at Jeffrey and shook his head, grinning. He turned back and called out, “Walk to the middle of the aisles and shine that light on yourself,” he called out to the man. “Jeffrey,” he whispered, “go left and see if there's anyone else in the store. Stay hidden.”
“Roger,” said Jeffrey. He headed left, his shotgun held in front of him.
A figure walked to the center and directed his flashlight up. “Is this okay?” he called. He was a young man, probably late twenties or early thirties, wearing a Red Sox cap and looking nervously at Richard.
“Is there anyone else with you?” asked
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