He glanced towards our left and then back at me. “Less than a half-mile, that way is Miley’s office.”
“Yeah,” I nodded in agreement.
“We ran away from a hell of a lot of Grays. Things are quiet, but they must be all around us. It’ll only take one shot. So maybe the wind blew that door open.” Never taking his eyes off the gun shop, he finished, “That’s possible. But, what if a Gray is in there?”
“We need that stuff.”
“I’m trying to be part of this group.” He paused. “Trying not to be who I was, but there are so many ways this could go bad.”
Since we didn’t have any radios or way of communicating, we came up with a system of blinks to coordinate with one another. One flash meant to get us the fuck out of here; two, was the area is clear; and three was come to get us. If we hadn’t blinked within fifteen minutes of leaving the Ripsaw, we were in trouble, and Sam was to come to get us.
“Any time now, Sam is going to start the Ripsaw and bust-ass over here thinking something is wrong. This won’t be an option then. We’re one gunfight away from being out of ammunition. I can’t have that.”
Titouan exhaled loudly. “Okay. Your call.”
I turned to face the barren expanse of ground to the south near one of the giant lagoons where Sam and the others waited in the Ripsaw. I blinked my headlamp twice. Sam let me know he’d seen the signal. With Titouan’s potentially prescient words echoing in my mind, we crept towards the store.
Titouan aimed his AR-15 at the entrance as I approached from the right. I called into the store, “Is anyone in here?”
We waited for a few moments with no response. “I’m going to check. Cover me.”
Titouan readied himself and nodded.
I flicked my headlamp on just before entering, it along with my rifle, worked in unison as they danced around the room. “Clear,” I said. I popped back out the door and into the street. I flashed my headlamp two more times. Sam, again, followed suit.
“Not clear,” came Titouan’s reply from inside.
I hurried back inside and saw precisely what I had missed. A man lay on the floor in the far right-hand corner of the room. A large pool of frozen blood extended out beyond him in a perfect circle. I was in too big of a hurry. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I thought.
“Poor bastard was executed,” Titouan said.
“What makes you say that?”
Titouan shrugged. “Let’s see. A bullet hole in the side of his head and no gun.”
Suddenly aware we hadn’t cleared the rest of the store, and willing to let go of Titouan’s always-present smart-ass temperament, I motioned towards the closed door behind the counter. “Let’s make sure that room is clear, and then let’s get loaded up and get the hell out of here.”
Without saying a word, he positioned himself to give cover if needed.
I grabbed the doorknob and gave it a turn. It was unlocked. I stood to the side as I gave the door a hard shove. I closed my eyes for a tick before entering, my gun up and in a firing position, my headlamp manically moving from side to side and up and down. Titouan was on my heels. It looked clear.
The room was full of guns. Lots and lots of guns. We could start an army with all the weapons in there. There were even more shelves of ammunition: green boxes, brown boxes, and a gamut of different sizes and types to go along with the hundreds of guns, ranging from pistols to big-ass sniper looking rifles. It was all overwhelming for someone like me who didn’t know shit about guns.
Titouan walked up one aisle. I another and was getting ready to call my side of the room, clear when I saw her. A girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen, sat in a recliner in a back corner of the room, frozen in place, cell phone, and a bag of chips in her lap, her eyes wide open, and face pinched in frozen sadness.
Titouan stood in ridged silence as I checked for a pulse. Her skin was hard as a rock, even cracking in places. It was covered in a similar mucous as lunch lady. The only difference seemed to be hers was more coagulated. I wasn’t sure what that meant, if anything. All I knew was, unlike lunch lady, the girl was clearly dead.
Part of me felt sadness for her. An equal share thought she was probably better off, especially if things were as bad as I was led to believe – as bad as I feared. I didn’t have time to debate with myself about which part was right.
Introspection was for those people lucky enough not having to stare down the business end of a gun regularly or continuously run from gray bioweapons. As much as I didn’t want to turn cold, those who sought to kill us wouldn’t blink when it was time to follow through. I couldn’t either. Still, I didn’t feel comfortable trying to turn off my feelings as I stood there looking at that innocent child. But I did turn them off. Titouan and I did one more run-thru before signaling all clear.
As I was leaving the store, I gave a quick glance at the man on the floor. Something other than him being dead caught my attention. As I more thoroughly swept my headlamp over him, I caught a glint from something shiny obscured by his clothing. It was a barrel of a pistol. After pulling it out from under him, I fumbled with it long enough to figure how to disengage the cylinder. There was one spent cartridge. Maybe he wasn’t murdered after all. I snapped the cylinder shut with a flick of my wrist and then slid the pistol into my waistband and caught up with Titouan, who was already signaling Sam.
In less than thirty minutes, we had a veritable armory in the back of the Ripsaw. There were enough rifles for everyone two or three times over. We could adequately defend ourselves, assuming we didn’t shoot each other in the process. We also had, I guessed, a few thousand rounds of ammunition, several pistols, and other odds and ends. Avery got himself a pump shotgun. He said he always wanted to shoot one.
The only thing that concerned me more than Avery having a shotgun was what we had to do next. Miley’s office was just down the street from the gun store. There was a large three-hundred-gallon tank of diesel beside the garage. Unlike the gas pumps in town that needed electricity to operate, Miley’s tank had a hand crank that could be used to pump the fuel. Either we would have to use it, or we’d have to resort to looking for other sources, including siphoning vehicles, which would’ve been the absolute last resort.
The obvious concern was had the Order occupied Miley’s after we left? If they had, we would be entering the belly of the beast. And it made perfect sense for them to stay, considering it was, as far as I knew, the only place in Barrow that had a working generator. Needing fuel was forcing our hand. We were either getting ready to make a decision that would lead us to a quick fuel supply or something much worse.
Just play it smart, I thought. We can do this. I exhaled a large gulp of breath and told Sam to get some speed and then cut the engine and coast until we were alongside the tank.
We were rolling to a stop near the pump when Sam asked, “You got the key ta the tank?”
“What?”
“Knowin Miley, it’ll have a big ass lock slapped on the sonofabitch.”
“That might be a problem,” I admitted.
“You ever thank ’bout East Texas?”
I laughed. “East Texas, West Texas… I even miss Indiana.”
Sam laughed. “Yeah, I ’is shit makin me miss the holler.”
With everything we were dealing with, we mercifully had our share of good luck to go with the bad. While the lock was on the tank, whoever used it last had not clasped it shut. I gave Sam a thumb’s up, and we quickly went about filling the fuel containers. After they were full, there was barely enough fuel left for the Ripsaw. Apparently, Miley hadn’t topped off the tank in a while, but according to Avery’s calculations, we had enough fuel to make it to Prudhoe Bay with some extra to spare.