Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) (7 page)

"Okay." Melanie replied.

"No stopping." he continued.

"I got it, Clay!" she replied insistently.

The pair moved silently through the store's wide, main aisle. Much to their delight, they first encountered a large grocery aisle. They immediately began grabbing up boxes of energy bars and bottled water.
 

“Clay, I'm not even sure what to take..." Melanie complained.

"Rice is good… These power bars are great. Don't worry much about water. We have the filter. Just fill your pack with as much as you can handle carrying and we'll eat what we can while we're here." Clay answered.

Melanie followed Clay's lead, as he opened his pack and began stuffing the essentials which he had moments ago outlined, into his pack. She watched Clay as he opened boxes of granola and protein bars, then proceeded to dump them into his dry bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Melanie watching him.

"Your bag has pockets. Mine doesn't. Try to fill the outside compartments as much as you can so we can avoid emptying my pack every time we want to eat." he told her.

"Sorry..." Melanie said apologetically. She was trying her best not to appear completely useless to Clay.
 

Although Clay had saved her life, they really knew nothing about each other. Melanie feared that he might be the type who would just leave her to the wolves if she couldn't keep up. He had not as of yet mentioned any long term plans.

"Don't be sorry." Clay said.

"I think we're both going to have to learn some new skills if we are going to survive this." he concluded while offering her a smile.

Melanie needed a long term plan. She knew that without help, she didn't stand a chance of surviving beyond a few days. What Clay had said to her had felt very reassuring.
 

With both of their packs now as weighted as they could handle, it was time to continue forward with their plan.
 

"That's enough. We're going to have two full meals before we leave here. Let's not load these things until the point that they become too heavy to carry." Clay said.

"Off to the automotive section then?" Melanie said, while lifting her pack onto her shoulders.

"Yep." Clay replied, while doing the same.

Clay again mounted his shotgun. Melanie grabbed onto the handle on his dry bag and the two were mobile again. The pair were quickly becoming familiar with the actions of the other. Everywhere that Clay looked, his shoulders turned slightly so he could maintain his line of sight along the top of his barrel. Clay was wondering where the owners of the cars that were parked in the manager's lot were hiding. He had not as of yet seen any signs that indicated they even remained in the building. Certainly if they were still alive, they would have used the store's supplies to survive the weeks since the outbreak. Clay had however, seen nothing to indicate any form of life in the building. His reasoning was quickly leading him to believe that those who remained here were likely to have been infected.

The pair arrived in the store's automotive department and Clay began searching the shelves for a long cylindrical filter. The item proved to be far more difficult to locate then he had anticipated. Without it however, his plan was essentially ruined. Sadly, that would be the case if any of the parts he required were to be left unfound. Fortunately, he was able to locate the appropriate component and soon after found the tap, die and a can of matt black spray paint.

"Is that everything then?" Melanie asked.

“Everything but the gas cans. We'll get those tomorrow. This takes priority." he answered.

"You still haven't told me what 'this' is yet..." Melanie stated.

"It's... Complicated. Let me get to work. Do you remember where the grocery aisle is?" Clay asked.

Melanie thought for a moment, silently attempting to recollect the path which they had taken.

"Yes." she answered.

"Okay. Well... I'm not trying to sound like a complete asshole or anything, but do you think you could come up with something for us to eat? We can cook with the camp stove." Clay said apologetically.

"Alright." she answered. Melanie disliked cooking. However, she knew she had to continue to contribute to the pair's efforts.

"Take the shotgun with you. If you can manage it, just run as fast as you can and avoid using the shotgun unless you absolutely must. Come back here and we'll sort out whatever is following you, together." Clay instructed.

Melanie nodded, and with that she was off. Clay began laying out the components which they had just gathered. He started by preparing the filter and lubricating the flat end with a generic lubricant he had grabbed from the hardware department. Then, carefully, he proceeded to use the tap, intent on cutting threads into an existing hole located on the bottom of the filter. Twisting the tap, then backing it out. Lubricating the tap, then twisting it again. He knew that he had only a few chances to get this right. There weren't very many of these filters on the shelf. After he was satisfied, he did his best to wipe the filter clean of oil. Then using one of the display hooks to hang the filter, Clay carefully painted it matt black with the spray paint he had previously procured. The next task was going to be a one shot deal and Clay took a moment to calm his nerves before moving forward. The completion of this tool could mean life or death for both himself and Melanie. Using the multitool that he kept on his belt, he taped the front sight out of the barrel belonging to the twenty-two caliber rifle. Clay soaked the rifle’s muzzle with the lubricant and picked up the die. This was it. He took a deep breath and performed a similar process with the die as he had done with the filter. However, it differed as threads were now being cut into the outside of the barrel's muzzle, as opposed to the inside of the bore. When he had finished, Clay carefully inspected the freshly cut, shiny metal.

"All done?" Melanie asked, approaching Clay from behind.

She had returned with a bag of dehydrated rice, sweet and sour sauce in a cylindric glass jar, and a small jug of water.

"Not sure yet. We won't find out much until the paint is dry." Clay replied.

After laying the rifle on the floor, Clay wiped his hands off on his pants. The two had squared away a bed for the night in the home decor department. Their packs were leaning up against the bed, while Mel had begun rummaging through the dry bag in search of Clay's camp stove.

"So, it's not much... But it'll be hot." Melanie said in regard to the food.

"Anything is better than nothing." Clay said, sitting down in front of the rifle with his back against the bed.
 

Clay began installing the rifle’s optics which he had scavenged from the outfitter, while Melanie had begun to boil water. The two sat in mutual silence while they worked on their respective tasks. By the time Clay had finished mounting the rifle's sight, Melanie was dishing out the rehydrated rice into a set of tiny plastic bowls that she had retrieved from Clay’s bag. While they ate in silence, Clay thought back to the shitty camp food he had eaten for the past month. He hadn't had a good meal for just over four weeks now and wondered if he ever would again. However, as far as this meal was concerned, Melanie was correct. It was hot and the rice would provide them with enough energy for the following day.

After the meal had been devoured by the pair's mutual effort, Melanie moved toward cleaning up the cookware, but was cut off by Clay.
 

"No, no... I have another job for you. You cooked, so I'll clean. But while I clean, I need you to load the magazines for the rifle." Clay said.

He sat down next to Melanie and placed a box of twenty-two rimfire ammunition and five magazines in front of her. She picked up one of the magazines and began turning it over in her hands, inspecting it curiously.

"I've never held a gun clip before..." Melanie said, without taking her eyes of the magazine she held in front of her.

"It's not a clip. This isn't Hollywood and you're not a shitty musician. It's a rifle magazine. If you want to shorten it, calling it a 'mag' is entirely appropriate. A clip is completely different then a box magazine." Clay interrupted.

Melanie sat there with a sort of stunned look on her face. Clay actually sounded serious...
 

Clay smiled and nudged her with his elbow. He began demonstrating how to properly load a box magazine to Melanie, who copied exactly what Clay was doing. Once he was satisfied that she could competently load them, he left her and began to sort out the dishes.

"I'm done." Mel said, breaking the mutual silence which they had both been participating in while finishing their assignments. "Now what?"

"The filter is on that rack over there. Can you grab it?" Clay asked, nodding towards the fuel filter that he had hung on a peg prior to painting it, and returned to the repacking of the cookware.

Melanie carefully grabbed the filter and looked at it in her hands; ensuring its paint was fully dry. Clay now had the rifle and held his hand out expectantly towards Mel, wanting the filter.
 

"Alright, Clay. I'm lost. What exactly have you been working on, that is so important?" she asked.

Clay offered no response initially and began threading the fuel filter onto the muzzle of the rifle. He bent down and scooped a magazine up off the floor when he had finished.

"I saw this done in a video I watched on the internet once..." he said, as he inserted the magazine into the rifle's loading port located in front of the trigger guard.

"What? I'm not entirely sure what that is, but it looks like something I saw once in an action movie. That was a lot of work for something that you saw on the internet. It's probably not even going to work!" Melanie chided.
 

"I think you should stand behind me... Just incase you're right." Clay said, drawing back the rifles cocking lug. When it was fully drawn, he released the mechanism and it slammed forward with a SHUCK.

Melanie moved behind Clay as he shouldered the rifle.

"You're going to kill one of us with this stupid idea..." Mel said, as she tucked herself behind him.

Clay had already directed his head lamp which he had laid on the floor, down the aisle he was facing. He too had his doubts. This was just too easy. But, considering how formidable of a weapon that this slight rifle could become if he could suppress it, the payoff would be enormous.
 

Clay took a few deep breaths, then exhaled slightly. He began squeezing the trigger and grip with his entire hand. The rifle hadn't been zeroed yet, but he focused the crosshairs on a box containing tableware that had been illuminated by his headlamp.

He maintained his focus and continued to gently squeeze until...

SHUCK! PING!

A round zipped down range and the action cycled. The tiny projectile having hit something which had been composed of metal.

"Holy shit!" Clay said excitedly.

"What?" Melanie asked.

"It worked! It actually worked!" Clay said, laughing for few seconds afterwards.

"Did you even fire it?" Mel prodded.

"Yah! Didn't you hear it? The rifle action cycled!" he exclaimed.

"Woooow... You're pretty proud of yourself aren't you?" Melanie ribbed.

Clay placed the crosshairs back onto the box of tableware and began squeezing the trigger as fast as he could, until the magazine was empty…

SHUCK SHUCK SHUCK SHUCK SHUCK SHUCK SHUCK SHUCK SHUCK, P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-PING!

Melanie had been watching this time and became equally impressed with Clay's contraption. Even while standing directly behind him, the only sound audible to her was the sliding of the metal components inside the rifle and a quiet popping caused by the bullet breaking the sound barrier, which was only slightly louder then the first.

"Alright, it works... But are you sure that those little bullets can even kill an infected? Aren't bullets typically... A lot bigger? Just look at the size of your shotgun shells!" Mel said.

"Those shotgun shells are filled with tiny projectiles that are about the same size as a twenty-two caliber bullet. The difference being, a shotgun throws a pattern of shot and a rifle shoots a bullet precisely." Clay explained.

"If you shoot a man in the head with this, he's going to drop. With this thing, we can shoot all we want, without worrying about drawing the attention of every infected within earshot." Clay continued, beaming over his own success.

"I see..." Melanie said. Beginning to understand why he was so excited about his little project.

Clay stepped aside and held the rifle out to Melanie.

"No, I don't know how to shoot." she said hesitantly, taking a step back.

"Well, you're going to have to learn... Because this is yours now." Clay said with a smile, pressing the rifle's receiver gently into her chest.

*****

Shooting wasn't nearly as difficult as Mel had initially expected it to be. Keeping in mind that the targets which she had been practicing on were all relatively close. However, Clay had instructed her to keep all of her shots between twenty-five and forty yards. He explained that in keeping her shots anywhere between those two distances, she wouldn't be required to compensate for the natural arc of the projectile. Clay had been a good teacher. Melanie was becoming increasingly confident in her ability to hit what she was aiming at with the little rifle.