Chapter 43: The Gun Store

Once the shop entrance was properly barricaded, the four survivors took to looking around the dark store. Zoey never would have pictured Bill to be openly excited or enthusiastic about anything, but she imagined the look on his face as he looked around the displays of firearms was the closest she was going to get.

"Goddamn, it's like Fort Knox in here," he grunted.

"Why'd you think I picked this store?" Francis said smugly. "It's defensible, and it has shit we're gonna need." He gestured around him. "Namely guns." With that, he plucked a Beretta 92 semi-automatic and a handful of SIG-Sauer pistols off a nearby shelf for himself and the others.

"Thanks man."

The biker ignored Louis in his euphoria. His mood was further improved when he looked into a nearby ammunition cabinet. "Attention, shoppers – we have hit the fuckin' mother-load."

There was silence as the others geared up with what they could find in the ransacked store. He whistled in appreciation of an untouched HK MP5 submachine gun, and was positively beaming when he snapped a 9mm clip into the slot right before the trigger-guard.

Louis' eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a Glock 18 machine pistol lying on the front counter. Those types of guns could usually never be found in a gun shop. Perhaps it had been forgotten by previous looters who had passed through here.

Guess that makes me a VIP now…

"This place even sold holsters," Zoey said happily, buckling one onto her hip and sliding her new pistol into it.

"Thank the Founding Fathers," the biker replied as he filled his new holster with ammunition. "And Heckler and Koch. I love those guys."

"You what?" The young woman smirked, and then feigned concern. "Francis, are you feeling alright?"

"Ah, fuck you," he muttered.

"You're such a gentleman."

"Hot damn," Bill's voice drifted from across the store as he procured a brand-new Colt M4 carbine for himself. "Now we're talkin'." He raised the automatic rifle to his shoulder and tested its weight. Though the barrel was shorter than the M-16, it felt familiar and comfortable.

"I'd say we have the firepower to take those Hunters if they show up again," Francis said matter-of-factly.

"As long as they don't get the drop on us."

While the others filled their newly-found holsters with ammunition, and Louis even found a weapon-cleaning kit, which was promptly stuffed into Zoey's backpack, Bill rested the M4 across his shoulders and wandered over to the front of the store. He peered cautiously out the shattered front windows and bars, but could see neither of the two Hunters that had chased them outside. However, he knew from their experiences back in Fairfield just how tenacious this particular breed of Infected could be. He highly doubted they had given up so easily.

He did notice that the street outside was considerably less devastated than the adjacent road. Perhaps the gun store was right at the edge of the firebombed district.

Louis, on the other hand, was looking up at the store's fire-alarm thoughtfully. The Infected were attracted to noise, and fire-alarms made a lot of noise. He would have to have a word with Bill about this later. Perhaps they could use it to their advantage.

Zoey felt a pang of sorrow when she came across a rack of hunting rifles. The Winchester Model 70 – 24 inch barrel, rifle scope, bolt-action, gunstock with a wooden finish. The 'Rifleman's Rifle'. Her father had owned one, and it was the first weapon she had learned to shoot with. She smiled with nostalgia as she picked the nearest one up.

"I think we're pretty decked out," she said happily. "I'm feeling like Jill Valentine right now."

"The foxy woman from Resident Evil, right? We ought to get you a mini-skirt to complete the outfit. Just sayin'."

"Francis, if I was wearing a skirt and you tried to look up it, I would break your nose with the butt of my pistol." Zoey's sharp tone was enough to cow even him.

"You kids done horsin' around?" Bill said gruffly, pulling out a can of peaches from the backpack. "Looking outside, I'd say that this area escaped the worst of firebombing, which means that most of the buildings are intact. It's probably safe enough to rest here and wait out the night, and then tomorrow we can look for a supermarket with some real food."

"That's better than my plan," Francis remarked.

"What was that?"

"I didn't have one."

The older man glared at him for a moment, before hurling the can up to him. "Why don't you make yourself useful and get that open?"

While Francis borrowed Zoey's knife and carved open the can, the remaining bag of pretzels was doled out. The fact that they were now down to a single can of peaches in the way of food, and that there may or may not be two Hunters waiting out there when they would have to make to make the inevitable foray for more food seemed to put everyone back on edge.

The thought of those two boat people, who would remain unnamed, eating the food that was rightfully theirs, made Louis' blood boil. "How far do you think we are from the airport?" he asked shortly, chomping down on a handful of pretzels in what Zoey supposed was the most furious way possible.

"Hard to say," Bill shrugged. "We'll have a look inside some cars tomorrow. Maybe we can find a street map."

A highly insubstantial meal of pretzels and canned fruit left everyone feeling hungry, but there was nothing to be done about it while it was dark out. Since Louis had managed to sleep back in the greenhouse, he volunteered for the first watch while Bill and Francis lay down in various places throughout the store free of broken glass. Soon, their snores filled the air. Zoey, on the other hand sat awkwardly in her spot for a little while, before coming over to join Louis.

"You should be getting some sleep, girl," he said quietly.

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the front counter, looking out the window in silence.

"You okay?" her compatriot asked after a little while.

"I guess…" she sighed, wringing her hands. "It's just… every time I close my eyes, all I see is… water."

Louis pursed his lips.

"I mean, it's not that big of a deal," Zoey continued. "I've lost count of the amount of near-death experiences that I – we – have had in the past week alone. But it's just… this one was different, you know? When I was sinking down in that river, I knew what was happening – I knew I was going to die."

There was an uncomfortable silence, aside from the moan of a distant Infected, and the flickering of burning buildings somewhere nearby.

"I had a similar problem for the first few days when I met you guys," Louis said suddenly. "Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw the safe-room – the place I was ready to call home until I was rescued – and the people there who I was ready to trust like my family."

His tone had taken a bitter edge, Zoey noticed.

"And then I saw the door being broken down by the sheer number of Infected pounding on it." He looked over at her. "A damn bolted steel door – and it still got busted down. I was able to escape out the back, but the others… God, when they started screaming…"

His voice broke off at that sentence, and she wrapped a hand around his to give it a reassuring squeeze. He looked back up at her and grimaced.

"It's like Bill said – you're going to see some messed-up shit."

She nodded numbly, recalling the horrifying image of Joe turning before her very eyes back in Mercy Hospital.

"But you have to learn to let it go," the young man continued, giving her hand a squeeze back. "Else you'll never be able to have a moment of peace again, dreaming or awake."

Zoey thought about what he was saying. Sure, she could dwell on all the horrible things that had happened in the past three weeks since the initial outbreak, but what good would it do her, or anyone?

Louis' voice cut into her thoughts. "You going to be okay?"

"I just feel a little… disconnected." She offered him a wan smile. "I'll be alright, though. Thanks Louis. For asking."

He smiled back. "You should get some sleep, while you can."

She nodded and crept back to her place on the hard floor, thinking about their conversation, and finally falling into a fitful sleep. Louis sighed, grasped the butt of his pistol reassuringly, and hunkered down to wait out the hours until dawn.