November 2nd, 10:25
Nov. 24th, 2006 03:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
secret_historyPlease take note of the disclaimer for Section 42. It applies here too. Regards.
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secret_history
Exhausted by everything that had happened that morning, Kitty had fallen asleep in a pile of blankets and a sleeping bag that Chuck had produced from the camping section of the store. The large man, in spite of his surliness toward the other adults who’d darkened his doorstep, had turned out to have a soft spot for children, especially upon learning what had happened to her parents. He’d even gone to the back of the store and found a plush fox that he claimed had been lying around there for quite some time, and presented it to Kitty, who was too tired by then to even thank him properly. Now she was curled up, thumb still in her mouth, the fox nestled in the crook of her elbow.
Mickey left her alone. Better that the kid sleep than stay awake thinking about her dead parents. She remembered how sleeping made it easier to deal with everything, how the pain just slipped away and was replaced by darkness. For the first few days, anyway. Then the nightmares had started, when the doctors had started lowering the doses of the medication they were giving her for her physical injuries. She’d tried to stop sleeping, then, but staying awake meant remembering, and sometimes the nightmares were better than remembering: at least the nightmares weren’t true. She shook the unwelcome thoughts away, rubbing her eyes with both hands to ward off her own demons, then glanced at the sleeping child. With any luck, Kitty would be too exhausted to dream for a long time to come. She turned away and left the girl to sleep in the back room.
Apparently satisfied with everyone’s knowledge of gun safety rules, Kurt was just launching into detailed instructions on how to use the rifle he’d shown them earlier.
“All right. Here are the basic steps in the proper care and feeding of your Ruger 10/22,” he said with a gleeful smile. “Step one: pick up your rifle in accordance with all standard safe weapons handling rules. Remember: ACTS and PROVE. Step two: pull and hold the charging handle all the way back, opening the action. That’s this right here,” he demonstrated as he spoke. “Step three: keep holding your charging handle, press the bolt release backward, like so, then release the charging handle, which locks the action in the open position.” There was a sharp snick as he worked.
“Got it so far? Good. Okay, after that, you visually and manually verify that both the chamber and the magaizne well are free of ammunition or other obstruction. You don’t want any misfires. Uh... where was I? Right. Step five: insert your loaded magazine. It should look like this,” he held up a small black magazine. “This here holds twenty rounds. I’m using it just for the demo, because it’s small. We’re going to be using much bigger ones later on. Right now, since we’re all still learning, we’re sticking with the small one. Okay. Step, uh, six: pull back all the way on your charging handle, press upward on the bolt release, and release the charging handle.” There was a loud clacking sound. “That was the bolt sliding forward. It scoops a round out of the magazine and chambers it. Your rifle is now loaded. To fire, you push the safety button —that’s this right here— to the ‘off’ position, that is to say from left to right. Open fire in accordance with all rules of firearms safety. Remember: ACTS/PROVE.
“Okay. After that, there’s reloading. Reloading is easier. First you put your safety back on. Then you pull the charging handle all the way back and hold it to open the action. While you do that, press your bolt release backwards and then you release the charging handle, which will lock your action in the open position. Depress the magazine release, like this, and remove the empty magazine. Once again, you visually and manually verify that both your chamber and your magazine well are free of ammunition or other obstruction. Then you insert your loaded magazine, pull back on your charging handle, press upward ont he bolt release, and release the charging handle. You are now reloaded. Push your safety to the ‘off’ position, and resume firing.
“There’s a quick-and-dirty way of reloading, which I don’t recommend unless you’ve got, say, a horde of zombies coming at you. On a normal shooting day, don’t do it this way. Sometimes, though, in a life-or-death situation, you don’t have time to be completely safe when you reload. So, the faster but not-so-safe method is as follows: depress the magazine release, like this, and remove the empty magazine. Insert your loaded magazine right away, pull the charging handle all the way back, and release it. The bolt slides forward, scooping a round of the magazine, and chambers it. Resume firing. Simple as that. Remember your ACTS every time you do this. You are dealing with live ammunition, and none of us wants unnecessary injury.
“I’d like everyone to practice this right now, while things are still quiet. We’ll go in order, until everyone knows how it works. Uh, Mickey, do you want to start?” he gave her a smile when she started in surprise, misinterpreting her gesture. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right here to give you a hand if you need it.”
He walked over to her and handed her one of the unloaded rifles. Mickey glanced up and saw Marco grinning at her from ear-to-ear. He knew that she’d been operating firearms for close to fifteen years, and for a moment it felt like old times, sharing a secret with him and waiting for some kind of mischief to take place that only they could see coming. She shot him a small, wicked smile, then turned a bland face to Kurt as he ran through his instructions one more time. Then she picked up the rifle, pointing it deliberately at the ground, checked the chamber, feeding path and the bore, then opened the action, locked it, verified the chamber and magazine well, loaded the magazine, and released the charging handle with a loud clack. The whole process took less than ten seconds. Marco was splitting his sides laughing, Randhir was grinning, a slightly confused look on his face, and Marlene, Paul, Donnie and James were looking at her with their jaws hanging open. Chuck gave a grunt that sounded suspiciously as though he was trying not to laugh, and Kurt gave her a rueful, slightly reproachful look.
“So, uh, you’ve already handled a gun before,” he said. “You might have said.”
Marco sounded as though he might be dying from lack of air. Mickey shrugged, a bit embarrassed now by what she realized had been a childish desire to show up the younger man on his home turf. “It didn’t really come up.”
Kurt forced a smile, to show he was a good sport. “Well, you sure got me. I’ll, uh, just let you do your thing, then, and maybe you could help me out? Split everyone else between the two of us?” She nodded, and he turned to the rest, smiling more easily this time. “Okay, any other smartasses hiding the fact that they were KGB snipers in a past life?”
Everyone laughed, and the awkward moment passed. Mickey found herself oddly grateful that he hadn’t made more of an issue of it than that. She felt like a heel, if she had to be honest with herself. He’d helped them out, and she’d embarrassed him for no good reason. She busied herself with coaching Randhir on the use of his rifle, while Kurt helped Marlene, who couldn’t quite master the technique of pulling on the charging handle and pushing on the bolt release at the same time. Luckily for Mickey, though, Randhir seemed to have very little difficulty getting the hang of loading his gun. He smiled shyly at her.
“So. You save lives, are good with kids, and can pick out the eye of a zombie at a hundred yards. Is there anything you can’t do?” he teased.
She flushed, but managed to rally. “I can’t knit,” she retorted, thinking of Marlene, “and the only time you’ll ever catch me running is if I’m being pursued by a horde of shambling undead. Which, coincidentally, is just what happened this morning.” She frowned. “I suppose I shouldn’t joke about that.”
“Better to laugh than to spend all your time screaming in terror. It would wreak havoc with your vocal chords,” Randhir wasn’t smiling. “How big of a magazine can fit into one of these things?”
“I’ve seen ones that can hold up to 100 rounds. Never actually used one before, mind you. I’ve never had to.”
Randhir was looking at the round visible in the magazine. “It looks so small. How can something this small be so lethal?”
She shrugged. “It’s a high-velocity projectile weapon? I don’t know. We always seem to be looking for more efficient ways to kill people. This stuff wouldn’t work on a larger animal, though. I’m not even sure it’ll work on a zombie, to be perfectly honest. Since it works on a regular human, it’s not an unreasonable stretch to think it’ll be okay, but I’m just not sure. I’d rather not have to find out.”
“I know what you mean. Hey, you okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” the floor had suddenly lurched beneath her feet. “I... I’m just dizzy.” She took a few faltering steps to lean against the wall, feeling herself break out into a cold sweat. “Give me a sec, okay?”
Randhir quickly unloaded his rifle and put out a hand to steady her. “Hey, why don’t you take a seat? Put your head between your knees until the blood comes back to your brain.”
Marco hurried over. “Mickey? You okay?”
She waved a hand at him in what she hoped was a reassuring fashion, letting herself sink cross-legged to the floor, leaning against a wall full of shelves with wire baskets that held a small pile of empty canteens. “Yeah. Just got the spins for a sec. I’ll be fine in a minute.” She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the room to stop spinning.
Chuck lumbered up behind the two boys, and gestured impatiently at the others to stay back, as to a man they all started in the same direction. “Go on, keep practicing. I don’t want to have to clean someone’s blood out of my floors because of a negligent discharge. She’s fine. Just back off and give the girl some air. You too,” he said to Randhir and Marco, and then dropped to a crouch. “How long has it been since you ate, girl?”
She looked up, realization dawning on her along with a flooding sensation of relief. She laughed weakly. “I forgot. At least a day.”
Chuck grunted. “I figured.” He shoved a granola bar at her. “Chew slowly. I got plenty more.” He tapped her hard on the knee. “That’s one of the first basic rules of survival, girl. Keep yourself warm, dry, and fed. Otherwise, you’re useless to yourself and anyone else you’re trying to help.”
The granola bar tasted like the best food she had ever put in her mouth. She chewed deliberately before swallowing. “Thanks. I appreciate it,” she said sincerely. “I kind of got caught up with all the panicking and running.”
Chuck scrubbed at his beard with the knuckles of one hand. “I tell you what, girl. You want to help these people? You’ve got to take care of yourself first. I’ve seen enough that I know that they’re taking their cues from you: whether you like it or not, they’re your responsibility. Especially that little girl. The rest, they’re all old enough to take care of themselves, but the girl’s too little to make it anywhere on her own. You follow me?”
She finished her granola bar, feeling the metallic tines of the shelf she was leaning against dig into her back. She shifted uncomfortably. “You think I don’t know that?” she deliberately kept her voice low, not wanting to attract the attention of the others, who’d all gone reluctantly back to their impromptu lessons. “I sure as hell didn’t ask for this.”
“Doesn’t matter now, ‘cause it’s yours even if you didn’t ask for it. That boy, he a friend of yours?”
“Who, Marco? Yeah. A good friend. Why?”
“Not him. The other one. Indian kid.”
“Oh. Well, he’s a friend now, I guess. I only met him yesterday. Feels like longer,” she rubbed at her eyes again.
“Huh.” Chuck didn’t appear to feel compelled to explain his interest. “Get some more food into you. You’re too skinny anyway. You wouldn’t last a minute out of doors, skinny like that.”
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but there was an edge to her voice as she replied. “Good thing I’m indoors, then. I appreciate the advice, and the granola bar.” There was only so much she was willing to put up with from a man she hadn’t even known for a whole day yet.
“Don’t mention it. Now I’m going to go and show that kid from Canadian Tire how to use a gun before he shoots himself or someone else with it.”
~
secret_historyExhausted by everything that had happened that morning, Kitty had fallen asleep in a pile of blankets and a sleeping bag that Chuck had produced from the camping section of the store. The large man, in spite of his surliness toward the other adults who’d darkened his doorstep, had turned out to have a soft spot for children, especially upon learning what had happened to her parents. He’d even gone to the back of the store and found a plush fox that he claimed had been lying around there for quite some time, and presented it to Kitty, who was too tired by then to even thank him properly. Now she was curled up, thumb still in her mouth, the fox nestled in the crook of her elbow.
Mickey left her alone. Better that the kid sleep than stay awake thinking about her dead parents. She remembered how sleeping made it easier to deal with everything, how the pain just slipped away and was replaced by darkness. For the first few days, anyway. Then the nightmares had started, when the doctors had started lowering the doses of the medication they were giving her for her physical injuries. She’d tried to stop sleeping, then, but staying awake meant remembering, and sometimes the nightmares were better than remembering: at least the nightmares weren’t true. She shook the unwelcome thoughts away, rubbing her eyes with both hands to ward off her own demons, then glanced at the sleeping child. With any luck, Kitty would be too exhausted to dream for a long time to come. She turned away and left the girl to sleep in the back room.
Apparently satisfied with everyone’s knowledge of gun safety rules, Kurt was just launching into detailed instructions on how to use the rifle he’d shown them earlier.
“All right. Here are the basic steps in the proper care and feeding of your Ruger 10/22,” he said with a gleeful smile. “Step one: pick up your rifle in accordance with all standard safe weapons handling rules. Remember: ACTS and PROVE. Step two: pull and hold the charging handle all the way back, opening the action. That’s this right here,” he demonstrated as he spoke. “Step three: keep holding your charging handle, press the bolt release backward, like so, then release the charging handle, which locks the action in the open position.” There was a sharp snick as he worked.
“Got it so far? Good. Okay, after that, you visually and manually verify that both the chamber and the magaizne well are free of ammunition or other obstruction. You don’t want any misfires. Uh... where was I? Right. Step five: insert your loaded magazine. It should look like this,” he held up a small black magazine. “This here holds twenty rounds. I’m using it just for the demo, because it’s small. We’re going to be using much bigger ones later on. Right now, since we’re all still learning, we’re sticking with the small one. Okay. Step, uh, six: pull back all the way on your charging handle, press upward on the bolt release, and release the charging handle.” There was a loud clacking sound. “That was the bolt sliding forward. It scoops a round out of the magazine and chambers it. Your rifle is now loaded. To fire, you push the safety button —that’s this right here— to the ‘off’ position, that is to say from left to right. Open fire in accordance with all rules of firearms safety. Remember: ACTS/PROVE.
“Okay. After that, there’s reloading. Reloading is easier. First you put your safety back on. Then you pull the charging handle all the way back and hold it to open the action. While you do that, press your bolt release backwards and then you release the charging handle, which will lock your action in the open position. Depress the magazine release, like this, and remove the empty magazine. Once again, you visually and manually verify that both your chamber and your magazine well are free of ammunition or other obstruction. Then you insert your loaded magazine, pull back on your charging handle, press upward ont he bolt release, and release the charging handle. You are now reloaded. Push your safety to the ‘off’ position, and resume firing.
“There’s a quick-and-dirty way of reloading, which I don’t recommend unless you’ve got, say, a horde of zombies coming at you. On a normal shooting day, don’t do it this way. Sometimes, though, in a life-or-death situation, you don’t have time to be completely safe when you reload. So, the faster but not-so-safe method is as follows: depress the magazine release, like this, and remove the empty magazine. Insert your loaded magazine right away, pull the charging handle all the way back, and release it. The bolt slides forward, scooping a round of the magazine, and chambers it. Resume firing. Simple as that. Remember your ACTS every time you do this. You are dealing with live ammunition, and none of us wants unnecessary injury.
“I’d like everyone to practice this right now, while things are still quiet. We’ll go in order, until everyone knows how it works. Uh, Mickey, do you want to start?” he gave her a smile when she started in surprise, misinterpreting her gesture. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right here to give you a hand if you need it.”
He walked over to her and handed her one of the unloaded rifles. Mickey glanced up and saw Marco grinning at her from ear-to-ear. He knew that she’d been operating firearms for close to fifteen years, and for a moment it felt like old times, sharing a secret with him and waiting for some kind of mischief to take place that only they could see coming. She shot him a small, wicked smile, then turned a bland face to Kurt as he ran through his instructions one more time. Then she picked up the rifle, pointing it deliberately at the ground, checked the chamber, feeding path and the bore, then opened the action, locked it, verified the chamber and magazine well, loaded the magazine, and released the charging handle with a loud clack. The whole process took less than ten seconds. Marco was splitting his sides laughing, Randhir was grinning, a slightly confused look on his face, and Marlene, Paul, Donnie and James were looking at her with their jaws hanging open. Chuck gave a grunt that sounded suspiciously as though he was trying not to laugh, and Kurt gave her a rueful, slightly reproachful look.
“So, uh, you’ve already handled a gun before,” he said. “You might have said.”
Marco sounded as though he might be dying from lack of air. Mickey shrugged, a bit embarrassed now by what she realized had been a childish desire to show up the younger man on his home turf. “It didn’t really come up.”
Kurt forced a smile, to show he was a good sport. “Well, you sure got me. I’ll, uh, just let you do your thing, then, and maybe you could help me out? Split everyone else between the two of us?” She nodded, and he turned to the rest, smiling more easily this time. “Okay, any other smartasses hiding the fact that they were KGB snipers in a past life?”
Everyone laughed, and the awkward moment passed. Mickey found herself oddly grateful that he hadn’t made more of an issue of it than that. She felt like a heel, if she had to be honest with herself. He’d helped them out, and she’d embarrassed him for no good reason. She busied herself with coaching Randhir on the use of his rifle, while Kurt helped Marlene, who couldn’t quite master the technique of pulling on the charging handle and pushing on the bolt release at the same time. Luckily for Mickey, though, Randhir seemed to have very little difficulty getting the hang of loading his gun. He smiled shyly at her.
“So. You save lives, are good with kids, and can pick out the eye of a zombie at a hundred yards. Is there anything you can’t do?” he teased.
She flushed, but managed to rally. “I can’t knit,” she retorted, thinking of Marlene, “and the only time you’ll ever catch me running is if I’m being pursued by a horde of shambling undead. Which, coincidentally, is just what happened this morning.” She frowned. “I suppose I shouldn’t joke about that.”
“Better to laugh than to spend all your time screaming in terror. It would wreak havoc with your vocal chords,” Randhir wasn’t smiling. “How big of a magazine can fit into one of these things?”
“I’ve seen ones that can hold up to 100 rounds. Never actually used one before, mind you. I’ve never had to.”
Randhir was looking at the round visible in the magazine. “It looks so small. How can something this small be so lethal?”
She shrugged. “It’s a high-velocity projectile weapon? I don’t know. We always seem to be looking for more efficient ways to kill people. This stuff wouldn’t work on a larger animal, though. I’m not even sure it’ll work on a zombie, to be perfectly honest. Since it works on a regular human, it’s not an unreasonable stretch to think it’ll be okay, but I’m just not sure. I’d rather not have to find out.”
“I know what you mean. Hey, you okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” the floor had suddenly lurched beneath her feet. “I... I’m just dizzy.” She took a few faltering steps to lean against the wall, feeling herself break out into a cold sweat. “Give me a sec, okay?”
Randhir quickly unloaded his rifle and put out a hand to steady her. “Hey, why don’t you take a seat? Put your head between your knees until the blood comes back to your brain.”
Marco hurried over. “Mickey? You okay?”
She waved a hand at him in what she hoped was a reassuring fashion, letting herself sink cross-legged to the floor, leaning against a wall full of shelves with wire baskets that held a small pile of empty canteens. “Yeah. Just got the spins for a sec. I’ll be fine in a minute.” She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the room to stop spinning.
Chuck lumbered up behind the two boys, and gestured impatiently at the others to stay back, as to a man they all started in the same direction. “Go on, keep practicing. I don’t want to have to clean someone’s blood out of my floors because of a negligent discharge. She’s fine. Just back off and give the girl some air. You too,” he said to Randhir and Marco, and then dropped to a crouch. “How long has it been since you ate, girl?”
She looked up, realization dawning on her along with a flooding sensation of relief. She laughed weakly. “I forgot. At least a day.”
Chuck grunted. “I figured.” He shoved a granola bar at her. “Chew slowly. I got plenty more.” He tapped her hard on the knee. “That’s one of the first basic rules of survival, girl. Keep yourself warm, dry, and fed. Otherwise, you’re useless to yourself and anyone else you’re trying to help.”
The granola bar tasted like the best food she had ever put in her mouth. She chewed deliberately before swallowing. “Thanks. I appreciate it,” she said sincerely. “I kind of got caught up with all the panicking and running.”
Chuck scrubbed at his beard with the knuckles of one hand. “I tell you what, girl. You want to help these people? You’ve got to take care of yourself first. I’ve seen enough that I know that they’re taking their cues from you: whether you like it or not, they’re your responsibility. Especially that little girl. The rest, they’re all old enough to take care of themselves, but the girl’s too little to make it anywhere on her own. You follow me?”
She finished her granola bar, feeling the metallic tines of the shelf she was leaning against dig into her back. She shifted uncomfortably. “You think I don’t know that?” she deliberately kept her voice low, not wanting to attract the attention of the others, who’d all gone reluctantly back to their impromptu lessons. “I sure as hell didn’t ask for this.”
“Doesn’t matter now, ‘cause it’s yours even if you didn’t ask for it. That boy, he a friend of yours?”
“Who, Marco? Yeah. A good friend. Why?”
“Not him. The other one. Indian kid.”
“Oh. Well, he’s a friend now, I guess. I only met him yesterday. Feels like longer,” she rubbed at her eyes again.
“Huh.” Chuck didn’t appear to feel compelled to explain his interest. “Get some more food into you. You’re too skinny anyway. You wouldn’t last a minute out of doors, skinny like that.”
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but there was an edge to her voice as she replied. “Good thing I’m indoors, then. I appreciate the advice, and the granola bar.” There was only so much she was willing to put up with from a man she hadn’t even known for a whole day yet.
“Don’t mention it. Now I’m going to go and show that kid from Canadian Tire how to use a gun before he shoots himself or someone else with it.”
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Another nitpick...
Date: 2006-11-25 12:45 am (UTC)On the flip side, the plastic BC mags are trasparent, which is way handy:(http://www.cabelas.com/cabelas/en/templates/product/standard-item.jsp?id=0041238227775a&navCount=1&podId=0041238&parentId=cat20807&masterpathid=&navAction=jump&cmCat=MainCatcat602007-cat20807&catalogCode=XG&rid=&parentType=index&indexId=cat20807&hasJS=true).
Also, BC makes a nifty handcranked loading device for loading them in a hurry (way handy when the zombies are a'comin): http://www.cabelas.com/cabelas/en/templates/links/link.jsp?type=product&cmCat=Related_IPL_227775&id=0012781210517a
Re: Another nitpick...
Date: 2006-11-28 04:22 pm (UTC)A 5 second reload sequence is easy to manage with practice. Triple that for folks who have no practice. Discounting the effects of mishap (Oh hell, I dropped the box) or terror that is still plenty of time under most circumstances. Given that they have a half dozen shooters I don't imagine it will be a problem.
The other consideration is carrying the spares. A 10 or 25 round box is easy enough to slip into your pockets for easy access when you need it, and you can generally even close the buttons. One of those 100 drums is going to need to be stuck in a backpack. Now try saving time on the reload...
I won't say anything about people freaking out and wasting all thier ammunition...
My point is that I can't imagine anyone other than some off military guy actually wanting to carry the drums on a single shot weapon. Automatics are another question obviously, but we are talking about hunting .22s here. A clutch of 25s in the pockets and a box of reloads in the backpack is a lot more likely.
Re: Another nitpick...
Date: 2006-11-28 04:29 pm (UTC)So all well?
Re: Another nitpick...
Date: 2006-11-28 05:00 pm (UTC)All is well. More episodes may go up tonight, depending on how I get on with the story.
Re: Another nitpick...
Date: 2006-11-28 05:15 pm (UTC)I was kind of looking forwards to seeing an epic gun battle consisting entirely of people plinking away with plain-vanilla .22 rifles; not exactly typical Hollywood/Rambo gun pr0n fare...
Re: Another nitpick...
Date: 2006-12-01 12:48 am (UTC)