"Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me." - Isaiah 6:8, King James Version, America Edition
It was curiosity that led them to fan out and observe the various spectacles in the underground shelter they resided in. Walking through the towers of crates brought to light the sheer amount of ammunition stored. Some of these ammunition crates were wooden rectangles with dove-tailed grips on their sides, others were a deep army green and box-like. Some were larger than others, and most peculiarly, many were inscribed in various foreign languages; there were some in Romanized letters, some in Cyrillic, some in East Asian characters.
A plethora of other equipment preceded what they assumed was the ammunition, and the further the girls strode from the entrance the more they encountered displays of various handheld grenades and Improvised Explosive Devices, sat carefully in their respective containers.
Some girls like the Queen and her posse took care to stay very clear of the weapons and equipment, refusing to touch anything. Others, like the wide-eyed, curious Alyssa and excited Chloe took a more hands-on approach to the stockpile, intrigued by the various designs and shapes.
Max found herself stuck in the dead middle, unsure of what to do with the situation presented.
"We shouldn't be down here long, Taylor's right," Chase spoke aloud, "if they're using this place, then we have to look for another spot to ride this…this siege out. I say we leave everything and cover our tracks, so that they don't find out we've been down here."
"Hold on," and Chloe made her way over from one of the racks of rifles she and Anderson were inspecting, "How do you know that we can get all of us—all eleven of us—past them without getting spotted someway and somehow? Sooner or later, they're gonna notice that not everyone made it out after what happened up there," and everyone shivered at the thought of the cafeteria, "We outta to take the fight to these fuckers while we still have a chance!"
"Are you suggesting we straight up fight them?" Victoria exasperated, eyeing the punk across from her in absolute bewilderment, "that's not just a bad idea, that's just plainly suicidal. Most of us have never held a gun in our lives—" a quick glance around showed that the pixie blonde was dead-on in her assumption, "and even if we did, how the hell are we supposed to go against the firepower they have? You said it yourself, Price: if the cops who are trained with guns can't fight them, then we most certainly can't."
"The pigs don't got a chance 'cause they're armed with service revolvers and shotguns," Chloe reasoned, "but us? We'll be armed with what these bastards got, not some peashooter from the PD," and to make her point clear, Price reached for a nearby rack and pulled a rifle from its rung, its slender, polished wooden furniture and furnished metal bolt glistened slightly under the light, "this is a bolt-action rifle, these things fire a heavier round than the slugs and pistol rounds the police use. In other words, better chance to knock Prescott's puppets off their asses."
"So we're supposed to use relics from a hundred years ago against those modern, fully automatic assault rifles they have now," then Victoria smothered sarcastically, "truly, your best plan yet Price, I wholeheartedly agree."
"It's technically about sixty years old, actually," Alyssa butted in, "That's a Mauser carbine, and if the markings are what I think they are," and at the beckoning gesture, Price handed the rifle over, "…yeah, it's a Yugoslav M48. Five shot, 7.92-by-57 millimeter cartridge," then the stocky girl took hold of the shiny metal bolt, cycling it back and opening the breach, "and in such lovely condition, too," she gushed, drawing concerned looks from those around her.
"…yeah," Chase remarked, "Anyways, it's old, and I'm not interested in getting my head blown off trying to fight murderers armed to the teeth."
"So then what? You're just gonna cower in a corner while they kill everyone else in their way?" the punk retorted, "they're not gonna magically go away once they're done, Vicky. I mean, look at this," Price swept her arm over the mountains of munitions and weapons, "this is enough for an entire goddamn army. They'll last for months on this shit."
"Then we get the hell out of here while we still have a chance," the pixie blonde asserted, arms crossed and standing tall, "without the guns; they'll do us more harm than good if we cannot use them."
"What's stopping them—?" came an interjection, and they looked to Juliet, "If the police can't hold the hounds back, then what's to say they'll stop at Blackwell? Is there anyone that can stop them otherwise?"
There was no answer to that question.
"...it ain't right," Stella piped up, "but this might be our only chance of getting out of here."
"It doesn't have to be," Victoria still asserted, "But the longer we wait, the less of a chance we have. We should leave this place now, while we still can!"
"Um, guys...?" Max tried to draw attention, but already the tempers between the Pirate Captain and the Queen were flaring up.
"Nah, I'm not passing this up," Chloe snipped back, a frown etching on her face, "if you don't wanna stick it to your boy toy after he goes on a murder spree against innocent people, then it's clear you're better off sitting in a corner and out of our way, Vicky."
"Guys?"
"Well excuse you, Price, but you're the only one with the sacrificial tendencies here," Chase venomously spat, "everyone else would prefer to stay alive, and not toss their lives away because you feel the need—!"
"Guys!"
Both bickering girls turned to the disgruntled brunette, who exasperated, "Look, since we can't agree to either, how about this: We prioritize making our way out of Blackwell—" and Victoria eased the glare she held ever slightly, "—and at the same time, we will all be armed, so that if the hounds do confront us, we can defend ourselves," then Chloe curtly nodded at the compromise.
"I can get behind that," Juliet spoke up, and some nodding from the rest of her group made their opinions known. Alyssa smiled broadly, courageous, slinging the rifle upon her shoulder and humming a bold I agree.
With hesitation, Courtney and Taylor did the same as they stood beside Chase. Whereupon realizing that she was the only dissenting opinion, Victoria huffed her frustrations, and silently relented from her position.
There came the sound of a bolt cycling from behind Max, and she turned to see Kate, who held another Mauser in hand. Marsh inspected the breach momentarily before looking up, and nodding.
It became clear to everyone after they had agreed to the idea of a defensive retreat out of Blackwell, that they had to be as acquainted with their weapons as possible. A long-winded synopsis from Alyssa taught them to ascertain a feel to whatever weapon they chose, and among the lot of them did they choose the simplistic design of the Mauser rifles on the racks.
There were exceptions, however. Chase, vehement in her desire to not be caught alive nor dead with an outdated boom-stick in hand, fielded a smaller, more intricate submachine gun, identified by Anderson as a Heckler & Koch 9-by-19 millimeter MP5A2. Dana, in an effort to be the group's leading support, had picked a rather sturdy looking gun, far lengthier than the Mauser carbines and with a very intricate bipod at the end of its barrel. Alyssa determined the heavy gun to be a Colt R75A, a commercial variant of the more commonly known Browning BAR. It was to no end that Anderson gushed about the famous 30-06' round the gun fired, a sort of zealous passion came forth as she spoke her praise.
It should be noted that during the entire explanation made of these firearms by the proud, boisterous Alyssa, there were at least five very concerned stares observing her spectacle.
"With what you know, Anderson, I'd reckon you'd been planning for something like this," Chase abruptly commented, and was received with some nervous chuckles from the others, "No offense," she quickly added.
"When he's not at his gym, my father spends whatever free time he has with collecting, guns specifically. Has been for most the time I've been around, it's only natural he'd teach me these things."
"Why, your dad's got a whole stash of rifles, doesn't he?" Stella jested, grinning lightheartedly.
"As a collection, yes, he does. It's mostly for show, he rarely considers firing them. I always wondered what it'd be like, to shoot a weapon from a period of time I hadn't known," Alyssa admitted, looking down at her own weapon of choice: a Ruger Mini-14 chambered in 5.56-by-45 millimeter, complete with a full wooden stock and similar magazines to Chloe's modern carbine. Not interchangeable, though – Alyssa made sure to clarify that before Price conceived any dubious ideas.
"You're such a nerd, dude," said punk jested with a wicked smirk, "I respect the wisdom though."
"So, we got the guns we wanted," and Brooke pointed to the few crates they managed to open, each containing a separate caliber that they all required, "and we got the ammo, but how do we use it? How do we use our weapons?"
"Gather 'round, I'll help you all out on this," and they gathered around Anderson, enclosing a semi-circle around the gun nerd.
"We'll start with the Mauser rifles you all have," so Alyssa carefully sets her Mini-14 aside, and reaches for a spare M48 from the racks, "this, as I've stated before, is a Yugoslav M48, developed in the late 40's just after the Second World War. It is a near identical copy of the Karabiner 98K, the main rifle used by the German Army. It feeds from a five round stripper clip," and the audience witnessed her pick up a clip of five rounds off a case, the rounds slotted together with a small metal strip at the rims of the cartridges, "these rounds feeding into an internal, fixed magazine. This means that unlike Price with her AR, or Dana with her R75A, none of you are going to be worrying about fishing for magazines."
"What you will be worrying about," and Alyssa angled herself so that they could see her demonstration, keeping the barrel towards the concrete wall and away from them, "is feeding the rounds into the rifle. The first thing you do is open the bolt—"
Ker—chak
"The breach is now open, and you can insert the clip of rounds into the magazine. There is a port on the metal surface just behind the breach, it will help you guide the rounds into the magazine so that you won't mess up. Remember, now: you cannot be a baby about this, you will fumble with the loading if you're too slow or too soft on pushing the rounds down," and with a bit of dramatic exertion, Anderson pressed down on the stack of rounds with her thumb, loading the ammo into the magazine. With a flick, the empty stripper clip was tossed from its place, clattering to the ground.
"Now that the rounds are in, all that's left is to close the bolt—" and the bolt is cycled forward with another ker—chak, "and now, you are ready to fire the rifle. You would then aim your rifle, by lining up both the front and rear sights onto your target, and then squeeze the trigger. Once you squeeze the trigger, a striker built into the bolt will ignite a primer at the bottom of the round, and it will combust the gunpowder and send the bullet flying out of the barrel. Once you've fired, you repeat the process of cycling the bolt back, and then forward again, to eject the spent casing and load a fresh round."
Alyssa grips the bolt handle, "Think of it like this: out with the old," the bolt is pulled up and back, and the first round is promptly ejected from the breach, "then, in with the new," she cycles the bolt forward, and they could see the next round be pushed into the chamber before it closes, then the handle is pressed down.
"You will repeat this process until you spend all five rounds," and the instructor cycles the bolt again, and again, until all five rounds have been ejected from the gun, "when you run out, you open the bolt and load with another stripper clip. That simple."
A hand shot up from the bedazzled crowd, and its owner, Stella, pipes up, "Can we load the rounds one by one, individually?"
"Yes you can, but it's much quicker to load them in a clip. You spend less time fumbling the five rounds in your hands and more time shooting bad guys with them."
Another hand, "Where's the safety on this, or does it have one at all?" Dana asked.
"It's on the back part of the bolt," Alyssa pointed to an extended metal piece behind the main part of said bolt, slanted horizontally to the left side of the gun, "when it's slanted to the left like this, it's in the fire position," then, Anderson shifted the piece up so that it was vertical, "this is what I call semi-safety, you can move the bolt but you cannot fire the trigger," then she turned it horizontally right, "this is full safety, meaning you cannot operate the bolt nor the trigger," then the girls watched Alyssa try to open the bolt, proving unable to do so.
"Since there's a chance we might have to use these rifles, we'll have the safeties set to fire," flicking the piece all the way to the left, Anderson cycles the bolt back open, inspecting the breach, "because of this, I must stress this to each and every one of you using this rifle: unless the bolt is open like this or in full safety, do not point your rifles at each other. These are the only instruments we can use to protect ourselves from harm, and should be used only when necessary, which means no fucking around. Only point these with the intent to kill, not to play. That is all."
Faces hardened at the stern warning, some nodded.
"Those with the Mausers, go ahead and get some ammo for yourselves," Max called out, closest to the crates of ammunition, "the rest of you, listen to what Alyssa's got to say!"
A commotion arose as the majority of the girls, with their M48s carefully in hand, surrounded the crates and sorted for their specific cartridge. Victoria, Dana, and Chloe, the exceptions, huddled closer to the raven-haired girl and awaited advice.
"I'll start with you, Victoria," Anderson began, much to the others' displeasure, "your MP5A2 fires a 9-by-19 millimeter Parabellum pistol cartridge, and is designed with the intention of burst fire and-or automatic fire."
The stocky girl beckoned for the gun, and Chase handed it over, "the unique thing about the MP5 is that its recoil is in part negated by its free-floating barrel, making it easier to control when spewing rounds. It has a selector switch on its left side next to the trigger," Alyssa points to the white and red etchings close to the pistol grip and trigger guard, "when it's set to the white one, it will not fire; this single red marker is semi-auto fire, and the ones above that, burst and automatic fire."
"Reloading the MP5 is a little more complicated than with the Mauser," the stocky girl continued, angling the gun to get a better grip, "there's other ways, but the most assured way to load is taking the bolt handle and bringing it back. To lock it open, you fold it up, into the bolt lock here," a hand took hold of the bolt, pulling back and sliding the bolt up into a slot along the curve of the handguard, "once you lock the bolt open, you take the magazine out using this mag release just in front of the trigger guard, like so," pressing the mag release, Alyssa tugged the slender, curved magazine from the gun.
"I…see," Chase noted, "and do I just insert a new magazine, or…?"
"Almost," Anderson then grinned, looking excited, "you slide the new magazine into the mag well, like this—"
click
"Once you hear that click, you get the honor of taking your hand and slapping the bolt out-of-lock and closed," and with a swift thwack, the bolt unlocked and crisply snapped closed. Alyssa looked proud with her demonstration; Chloe grinned at the display, and Dana looked on with awe.
Victoria was unimpressed.
"Huh, cool."
"You're gonna havta' do better than that dude, Icky Vicky's a tough crowd to impress," Price joked, and Dana began chuckling beside her as Victoria sidelined the punk with a glare.
"I just think it's cool," Alyssa bashfully muttered, "you can just use your hand to manipulate the bolt out of the lock if you want," but now she directed to the Queen with sincerity, "if you learn how to quickly work the bolt handle and control bursts, you'll be a serious threat to whoever tries to fight you."
"I think I get it now, thank you Alyssa," Chase took the offered submachine gun from Anderson, and made her way to the cluster of girls by the crates.
"Dana," the black-haired girl beckoned, "your gun's got a lot of history behind it, but I'll spare the details. There's a selector switch on the left side of the gun, with safe, automatic, and semi-auto fire, much like Victoria's. The mag release is a button inside the trigger guard, right in front of the trigger," Alyssa demonstrated by pushing it and pulling the slanted box magazine from the gun.
"I want you to remember what I tell you about this next part: this R75A fires from an open bolt, meaning that before you insert a new mag, it's best to charge the bolt handle on the side of the gun. This will ready the bolt, and the gun will fire once you put the magazine in and pull the trigger. Because of this, keep your gun on safety at all times, and don't point it at anyone," Alyssa lectured, handing the gun and its magazine back to the awestruck cheerleader.
"Got it, 'lyssa," Ward replied, and bounced her way to the crates for ammo.
"So, Chloe, right?" Anderson asked, unsure.
"Yeah, wassup?"
"Considering the others, your gun is a bit easier to handle," so being handed the rifle, Alyssa kept the barrel away from the both of them and pressed a button near the magazine well, sliding the mag out, "there's a button on the right side, it's the mag release. When you're out, press the button and the mag will drop from the housing, and you'll slap a new one in. The charging handle is this two-prong piece near the back," Alyssa took her index and middle finger and pulled the protruding handle back, a single round was spat out the ejection port and ricocheted off the concrete floor, rolling next to Price's boot.
The punk knelt down and picked the round up, "Ah, well ain't that swell?" she smirked.
"I'm pretty sure you know what to do when it comes to these things," Alyssa considered, handing the magazine first and then the rifle to the taller girl, "Just don't be reckless, your rifle is not designed for full auto fire. Don't ask me for mags either, you know they're not gonna feed properly," the gun nerd jabbed, earning a cackle from her lankier friend.
"I'm just messin' with you dude, I got it," Price dissuaded, grinning, "we gotta save Max and the others in case they get caught with their panties down, y'know?"
Anderson hummed in agreement, and together the two made their way to the crowd of girls clambering through opened and soon-to-be-opened ammo cans. Some marveled at the various languages inscribed on the tins, others were jamming round after round into whatever spare mags and clips they could find. Much to Alyssa's silent dismay, a few girls had decided to stuff cartridges into the pouches of their donned combat vests, which had been yanked from the cubbies above the racks.
"I got some spare seven-nine-two millimeter, who needs some?"
"Pass me somma'dat, holmes—" and an enthusiastic Stella reached for Juliet's offered tin, greedily taking the brass in mighty handfuls.
"Make sure you divide the ammunition equally, be sure your buddies have enough as well!" Max called out to them, helping Victoria with a case of pistol cartridges.
"Yeah, Stella," the tin in the ebony girl's hands was ripped from her greedy clutches, "save some for the rest of us, why don't you," Brooke cheekily snipped, and was rewarded with an obnoxious raspberry from her friend.
"Taylor, could you help me with this?" from beyond the two bickerers, Dana was straining 30-06' rounds into some spare mags she had scrounged, yet her difficulty brought her to a snail's pace when it came to loading. The blonde in question shuffled from her spot next to a busy Courtney, taking a seat next to the auburnette and observing the way she loaded the cartridges, one by one, into the mag.
"You're pressing too hard on the middle. Here, let me," and Christensen took a spare round, and instead of vertically pressing down, Taylor slotted the narrow side of the bullet under the mag lips, easily sliding it through into the magazine.
"Oh," Dana muttered, a bit embarrassed, "thanks, Taylor."
"It's alright," the blonde smiled, "Let's get these sorted out."
The sound of metal clanged as Price pulled the lid off an ammo can, burying her hand in and coming out teeming with shiny 5.56 brass. Grinning bemusedly, she set them next to Anderson, who busied herself with loading them quickly into thirty and twenty round mags for the both of them.
Closer to the door, and the furthest away from the cluster of the group, Kate sat with her knees up, against a tower of more crates. She was clutching the golden crucifix around her neck with her left hand, her rifle held tightly in the grip of her right. She had already taken her fill of ammunition and gear, and when closing her weary hazel eyes, prayed in hushed whispers.
"Our Father, thou art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name."
Juliet cycled the bolt of her Mauser back and with her free hand, placed a stripper clip of five rounds in the port below the breach. With a forceful press, the rounds were slotted from the clip into the internal magazine, and Watson cycled the bolt forward and engaged the safety.
"Thy Kingdom come, thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven."
Victoria clicked the loaded, curved magazine into her MP5, and with a deft swack she charged the bolt forward, flicking the selector to safety.
"Give us this day our hope to live, and forgive us our transgressions, as we carry out your Will, in your grace."
Dana fiddled with the strap of a metal helmet, having swiped it along with her vest, and with a tug she secured the metal helm on her head. Next to her, Taylor and Courtney were passing out small earmuffs to everyone else.
"Give us the strength to fight in your name, 'till our time can no longer beckon."
Stella finished with the many Velcro straps of her body armor, giving an anticipated Brooke a thumbs up and a toothy smile.
"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."
Alyssa and Chloe came trudging by, carrying a pair of combat boots in each of their hands, passing them out to the other girls. They stuffed their flatfooted shoes and sandals into a couple small, beige-brown backpacks, and picked lots on who was to carry them.
"In your love and glory, dear Lord. Amen."
And Max reached a hand out to Kate. Marsh opened her eyes and took the hand in a tight clasp, and was hoisted from the cold floor. Together, they joined the huddle of girls gathering at the hydraulic exit.
A/N - A writer might dare to appeal to their specific interests when engaging in a story of their creation, and so long as this interest is brought about by a genuine passion and by logical presentation, it may serve the story well. Being a citizen of the United States, I very much value the God-given, lawfully enshrined right to keep and bear arms, and I imagine that many who respect the idea of standing one's ground and defending one's life and property feel the same. Political connotations aside, it becomes necessary given the situation our protagonists find themselves in, to seek no safer alternative than to take up arms.
There is a reason I have selected the specific firearms mentioned in this story, and not their more famous, or well-known counterparts. A lot of reasons determine these specific choices, but chief among them is this: the antique firearms that are featured (the bolt-action M48 Mauser, the Colt R75A automatic rifle) are guns that were designed as commercial firearms to the public, or were produced in vast enough numbers that allowed for a great deal of military-surplus spending for those interested in purchasing such firearms. It is more likely that these weapons would end up in the hands of a citizen, despite the firearm's service in any military or otherwise, than their more famous counterparts (the Kar98k, the Browning BAR).
It is one thing to give these inexperienced, completely unprepared characters firearms, and another thing to expect proper etiquette of them with handling such firearms. The difference between a dangerous gun owner and a law-abiding gun owner, is one who knows how to carry their weapon. This is why I had Alyssa emphasize this during her monologue: in the right hands, a firearm can be a proper and fitting tool for the express purpose of self-defense, but in the wrong hands, it will lead to terrible consequences.