“We are just going to have to shoot our way in there and get that door open!” Roger shouted over the growing din in the room.
“Easy for you to say, you have a gun!” Shavian shouted back.
“This, my denim obsessed floozy, is no mere gun. This fine marvel is an M16 rifle and the pride of the US military for its…Gaaah”
Shavian jerked the rifle from his hands, and the strap still around his neck began to choke him. “We are staring down the mouth of hell, and you are going to try and give me a lesson on firearms you pompous Scottish prick!”
Roger couldn’t talk. He could barely breath and he was sure that his head was swelling every time she pulled harder. “Let….goooo,” he wheezed out.
“Give me the gun!”
“I can’t, it’s knotted to the others!” he said with the last of his breath. He knew in this moment he’d never be zombie food; he’d die at the hands of the Irish, just like his ancestors did in the War of the Three Kingdoms.
Actually, he had no proof of that. He’d only read about it once on a wiki when he should have been doing inventory.
His vision was starting to go black at the edges when Higgins stepped in and sliced the strap free with a pocketknife. Roger and his horde of weapons clattered to the floor of the room. “Enough,” the monosyllabic man said.
“Oh sure! Side with her!” He checked his beer can: true to form, not a drop lost.
“We need to get that door opened and we need to start this truck,” Elliott said. Now ready to start playing leader again, he stepped forward.
“And McNabb is the only one that can do both of these things., Rogers said, Aubrey helping him to his feet.
“I can drive the M1117,” Fipps said and everyone turned to him.
“Really?” Elliott asked.
“Yeah man, I got this.” He opened the armored door farther and it seemed that at least the dogs trusted him because Spot jumped in and with a bark Pat hopped in after.
“All right.” Roger looked over his ever-growing team. “Fipps, Jake, Aubrey, Junie and Shavian. Stay with the truck.”
“Like, hell,” Shavian spat.
“I don’t want to argue this with you. We just found you after being captured.”
“And I’m the best shot you have!”
“I,” Roger said and straightened his shirt, “would beg to differ.”
Shavian turned with the M-16 and fired once head shooting a zombie that just shambled through the door.
That had to be a 70-yard shot!
Not wishing to be out done, Roger scoffed, “Lucky lass. Best three out of five.”
Elliott cut them off before their wager could get interesting. “Fine, Shavian’s with us.”
Spot poked his head back out of the transport and whined.
“Oh don’t worry Spotty baby, I’m coming back for you,” Shavian said, appeasing Spot. He watched the jealous look crossed Elliott’s face. Really my boy? Really?
Finishing his beer he walked forward, unknotting a second M16 from his pile and tried to hand it to the unarmed Max. She just smiled wide at him, showing off the gore between her teeth. “Yeah… we’ll cover you.”