4 Guns, Guns, Glorious Guns!

It didn't take long for me to begin stuffing ammo into a duffel bag - we'd agreed before hand to split whatever we found right down the middle and with how much stuff there was in this armory, there was more than enough for the four of us.

Morgan took a rifle, Duane asked if he could learn to shoot and Rick had a little chat with him about gun safety and how guns weren't toys.

Honestly, I didn't listen all that much. Rick was right but I was too busy trying to figure out how to carrying as many guns as possible on my person. In the end, I settled for a simple rifle with a decent scope and decided I could use my pistols for any close range engagements I run myself into. If anything, with a rifle in my hands, I probably just became the deadliest sniper known to man.

After all, Hyperkinetics have near flawless aim and with a scope to aid me, I don't see a reason why I'd ever miss my target.

Eventually, we'd looted the armory and we were on our way out of the sheriff's department. Rick changed out of his military fatigues and got into his iconic sheriff's deputy outfit - topped off with his cowboy hat or whatever it was. I just stuck to my beige t-shirt and camo cargo pants. And my trusty boots. Besides, they didn't have any stuff that fit me in the changing rooms either so there was that as well. Only thing I took were some holsters for my Berettas.

"Conserve your ammo," Rick said as we came out the way we entered, obviously speaking to Morgan, "It goes faster than you think. Especially at target practice."

I nodded along in agreement, "Yeah, I'd limit yourself to a few shots a day. No more than a dozen. Gotta be careful with the sound too - gunshots no doubt attract a hell of a lot of walkers. Wherever you chose to practice, you'll have to get it done and then get outta there."

Morgan nodded to both these pieces of advice, giving us both a grateful look, "Thanks a bunch, you two. You've put me somewhat at ease over these past few days," he gave a smile before looking over to Duane, "Duane, go take these to the car," he said, holding their share of the guns and ammo out toward his son.

Before he left however, I lifted the four jerrycans I had, jingling them a little, "How about I go get us some gas from the surrounding vehicles? I can even teach Duane how to do it," I proposed, looking to Duane and giving a lopsided grin, "What about it, bud? You fancy learning how to siphon gas? It's a hell of a skill to have in times like these."

Duane looked to his dad with a pleading expression after hearing what I said and his dad went silent for a second or two before nodding and looking to me, a silent warning of 'look after my son or else' flashing across his face.

I gave a nod and followed Duane over to their car. It was a bit away from us and I decided to make up some conversation, "So, kid, what'd you do before all this shit hit the fan?"

"Huh?" he looked over to me like I was an alien and I grinned at his expression before elaborating.

"You have any hobbies? Play any sports? You like chasing girls around and trying to kiss 'em?" I jokingly wiggled my eyebrows about and got a smile out of Duane before he shook his head in protest.

"No!" he harshly whispered in reply, "Kissing girls? That's weird as hell, mister!"

I chuckled to myself, "Sure is, kid. Sure is," I joked, slapping him on the back, "Then, if you weren't some middle school Casanova, what'd you do?" I continued the lighthearted conversation and it seemed a welcome relaxation moment for Duane that allowed him to just be a kid again and he brightly smiled as he replied.

"I used to play baseball and soccer a lot. I was on the team for soccer - I was a striker," he puffed out his chest with confidence and pride and I restrained a chuckle, not wanting to seem like I was mocking his achievements. Oblivious, he continued, "Whenever I wasn't at training, I was usually out hanging with my friends and stuff. You know, normal stuff," he trailed off before looking up at me, "I know you said your memories are all weird and that you think you were a soldier but do you remember what else you used to do?"

Bringing an elbow to my jaw, I rubbed at it while my hands were occupied with jerrycans, thinking over my answer, "My memories are coming back to me more and more lately actually, kid. I'm pretty sure I was a Marine. Pretty sure I played varsity football in highschool as well. Whenever I wasn't doing that, I was being weird and kissing girls," I joked just as we made it to their car.

"Ewww!" Duane laughed even despite what he said and he opened the back door, placing the duffel bag inside.

When this was done, I turned, still smiling from the kid's admittedly pre-teenage reaction - I remember when I thought the same thing about girls. I looked around the near empty car park and spotted the nearest car before gesturing for Duane to follow along after me after he'd locked up the car. We wandered over to the over car and I put the jerrycans down, pulling out the hose I'd cut up from inside the sheriff's department.

I'd made sure it was clean, running boiling hot water through it from the length of hose until I was sure there weren't any contaminants inside it. Last thing I needed was to die after sucking in some zombie gunk that was somehow in the hose, you know?

Opening the door to the car, I popped the tank cover and got out, turning to Duane as he watched me intently. I held up the hose and spoke, "First thing you need is something like this. A hose, usually but I'm sure you can use other stuff as well. You gotta make sure it's clean though, okay?"

He nodded and I continued, walking around to the back of the car and feeding one end of the hose into the fuel tank while I brought the other end to my mouth and began sucking.

...Damn that sounded bad now that I think about it.

Either way, it seemed I was lucky and within a few moments, I felt gas hit my tongue. Pulling away, I fed the end spewing gas into the jerrycan nearest to me. Spitting out the small amount I'd gotten in my mouth, I looked to Duane and gave a grin, "Easy, right?" he gave a enthused nod, looking somewhat excited. I get why - this type of action was somewhat amoral prior to the apocalypse and now he gets to break that taboo. It's exciting for a kid to break the rules or whatever.

I waited until the tank was siphoned of all it's fuel into the jerrycan before I handed the hose to Duane and we went to a few of the other cars. He didn't get lucky on his first but eventually with his help I'd filled up all four of the jerrycans.

Picking 'em back up, I was about to go back over to Rick and Morgan but I saw Duane was just stood there, looking like he wanted to say something but for whatever reason couldn't.

Until he did.

"Uh, mister Harry?" he asked out in a awkward tone, seeming unsure on whether he should be speaking.

"Yeah, kid?" I turned to him and cocked an eyebrow, wondering what was on his mind.

His mouth opened and then closed, the cogs in his mind obviously moving along and trying to figure out what to say. I gave him some time and he eventually spoke up, "My...my mom. What should my dad and I do?"

I would be lying if I said I wasn't somewhat shocked by the question, which was obvious when I replied, "Why're you asking me, kid?" I wondered aloud.

"You...you're a soldier. Soldiers are strong and good at this type of stuff. I just thought you'd be able to give me a tip on how to deal with my mom. Whenever I see her--" he got a little choked up before he roughly wiped at his eyes, continuing as he did so, "Whenever I see her I freeze up and my chest hurts. How do I make that stop?" he asked and I felt my heart break for the little guy. Hearing something like this off a kid was horrific to say the least.

Putting the jerrycans down, I kneeled down and put myself on eye level with Duane before putting a hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture, "You shouldn't want to stop that feeling, Duane. It proves you're still a human," I tapped against his chest with a finger, "Proves you still remember and love your mom. Nothing'll get rid of that pain, kid. But you'll eventually get used to dealing with it. You just need to be strong for your dad and for your mom who's up in Heaven," I pointed upward, knowing Duane was a pretty religious.

His nodded in reply, still wiping at his eyes and I stood up, gave his head a pat and smile down at him, "It don't make you somehow less just because you feel bad whenever you see that walker, Duane. But I don't have all the answers, bud," I could only give him a helpless smile and he gave a somewhat disappointed nod. He still looked like he understood what I meant though.

He was a smart kid.

"Let's get back over to your dad then, Duane," I said, injecting a little energy into my voice and the kid looked up at me and nodded. We walked back over to his car in silence where his dad was waiting and I held out two of the jerrycans, "Here, should be about 40 liters of fuel here. More than enough for wherever you might wanna go. I showed Duane how to siphon the gas outta cars anyway, so he should be able to get all the gas y'all need," I gave a grin, one which Morgan returned.

He took the fuel and stored it in the car and Duane got into the passenger seat of the car. Looking to Morgan, I gestured for us to take a few steps away from the car, which we did. He looked a little confused but the both of us walked a few steps away.

"What'd you need, Harry?" I curiously asked and I sighed, wiping my free hand across my face.

"Morgan, I know it ain't easy," I started, my tone sympathetic before it turned serious, "Hell, I wouldn't be saying this if you didn't have a kid," that got his attention and he waited on bated breath for me to continue. "You need to take out that walker as soon as you can," I said and there was no need for him to ask 'which walker' because we both know what I meant - I was talking about his wife. He looked offended for a second but I held up my hands to placate him, "Like I said, I know it ain't easy. She was your wife. She gave birth to your kid, man. There's no way you can forget that," I said before shaking my head and discretely gesturing to the car Duane was in, "But you need to look out for your son, Morgan. Parents need to make sacrifices for their kid and leaving that walker alive is gonna come back and bite you in the ass."

He went silent for a second before covering his face with his hand and taking a deep breath. When he took his hands away, his eyes were red-rimmed and his face was covered in sadness as he replied, "I--I know, man. I know," he started, his voice hollow, "But how am I supposed to pull the trigger on my wife's corpse? The woman I love?"

A tense silence filled the air for a few seconds but I ended it soon enough, knowing I needed to tell Morgan about what Duane said to me.

"Morgan, Duane had a chat with me while we were getting the fuel. He said he freezes up whenever he sees his mom's corpse," I let that sink in with Morgan who's eyes showed the inherent any parent would feel if they heard their kid was suffering like that. Now to really drive it home. "What if he runs into that walker outside the house? What if he freezes up and gets attacked? Bit?" I said and Morgan's eyes widened in terror.

I took no joy in saying this but someone needed to say it to Morgan. Before it was too late.

"You can make your son's life easier in this hell, all you need to do is burden yourself. It's selfish of me to say this to you," I admitted but continued nonetheless, "But Duane don't deserve to suffer like this. Seeing his mom's corpse walk around. And neither do you, Morgan," I put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a complicated look before shaking my head and withdrawing my hand, "You don't need to do it now but you need to do it before something happens, bud."

Morgan sighed, the hurt on his face intensifying but he closed his eyes before opening them up, showing a renewed resolve. He nodded to me and gave me a grateful yet grim smile, "Thanks, Harry. You look like a bit of a brute but you ain't half bad at talkin ' and using that head of yours, huh?" he joked, trying to lighten the mood and I cracked a smile in reply.

"What can I say, I survived this long somehow, right?" I joked in reply and Morgan laughed before we went quiet again. Seeing it was time, I held out a hand and spoke up, "I'll see you around then, Morgan. Look after Duane and yourself, okay?"

He smiled genuinely at this and took my hand, shaking it, "You bet. You look after yourself and Rick, as well."

I nodded with a smile and turned on my heels, heading back over to where Rick was leaning on the side of the police cruiser we were gonna be using.

"All done?" he asked and I nodded, lifting the jerrycans for him to see.

"Should be enough for wherever we're going," I said before asking, "You decided on where we're going? Gonna check out Atlanta or you got another idea?" I asked for the sake of asking and Rick didn't surprise me by saying we were definitely going for Atlanta.

I didn't air the conversation I'd just had with Duane and then with his dad because it didn't need to be said but I could sense that Rick seemed to have an idea of what I'd been talking about with Morgan. He was kinda perceptive like that. Too bad his perceptive is so on and off, and way too inconsistent to be considered reliable.

As we stood there, we suddenly heard growls and turned to see a walker in a sheriff deputy's outfit and Rick looked surprised for a second before mumbling, "Leon Basset...?" he turned and stopped leaning against the car. He spoke up, both to myself and to himself, "Didn't think much of him. Careless and dumb. But...I can't leave him like this," he said, taking his new revolver from his holster.

As he began walking toward him, I shrugged and gestured for Morgan to get on his way. He saw me in his rear view mirror and waved goodbye through his car window. Duane did the same. I waved back with a smile.

Hopefully, what I said would help.

They took off soon after and Rick leveled his gun at his former co-workers forehead. Seconds later, a colossal bang - customary for most revolvers of the caliber he was using - rang throughout the surroundings. I just stretched, packed the jerrycans in the trunk of the cruiser and got in the passenger seat.

It was time to head to Atlanta.