The first of the series... Burt.
Hi all!
Upon listening through the series (just finished my 3rd time through), I have always wanted to put together what happened to each of our characters right up to the point where we are introduced to them in the story. This is the first in the series.
Without further ado, here's our favorite of Uncle Sam's Misguided Children.. Burt Scott.
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As I’d done a thousand times before, I gripped the ball arm securely with my right hand, slid the bolt from the Savage .22 rifle forward into place, and swung the arm down.
The jerry-rigged locking mechanism for the bathroom door at Locked & Loaded had been there for years, ever since Shirley had locked herself out again and decided to barrel it down, rather than face my wrath. With the familiar bolt-action sliding into a steel pipe I mounted inside the door frame, and mounted with the same, you better believe no one else is getting through that door without a tank. Little did I know then, but tearing apart that cheap plinker to get to the action would end up saving my life.
Big inventory shipment arrived the evening before, and got split up in the usual ways. Half the stuff, no matter what caliber, went straight to my vault. Most of the other half is locked up behind the counter, ready to be sold, and the rest is boxed up and prepared for pick up from the regulars in the morning. Been working this way for years, so I typically handled it all myself. Never had any interest in hiring a part-time employee, ever since the last one helped himself to the wall safe and never came back.
“Fucker,” I said to myself, as I dialed in the combination for the vault, “fifty-six… twenty two… one,” a satisfying ‘click’ emanated from within the thick door. I swung it open again.
Ammo cases are heavy, even the low-caliber stuff, so it was typically one box of 500 at a time. The truck drops everything around back, right when I’m about to close, so I’m there to meet him and none of my merchandise “grows legs” and walks away. I still had a few boxes to go, but I locked and unlocked the vault door with each pass, because the last thing I want is someone standing in the doorway waiting for me to come back inside.
“I’ve had a few guys try to shake down my shop, but that’s what Mr. 44 Magnum here is for,” as I patted the large revolver on my right hip in the 3:00 position, settled in the now-soft leather holster I’ve had her in for years, “one shot from this girl and they’ll all go runnin’ for sure. Heh heh…”
I got the rest of the inventory inside and then called it a night. I locked the front door and pulled down the security gate, and did the same with the back as I exited. I only lived a block away, makes it easier for me to keep an eye on things, or be available when a regular needs something ‘special’ from my personal collection.
The next day, the morning news droned on from the little black-and-white TV on the kitchen counter. I could hear it from the bedroom, but didn’t typically pay much attention.
“I like things quiet in the morning,” I growled, “but too quiet is no good anyway. Wonder what the liberal clowns are trying to feed us today,” as I walked over to the counter and adjusted the rabbit ears.
The picture slowly came into focus through the snow, but the sound crackled through first, “…reports of individuals becoming rowdy along the boulevard,” I clicked the channel over, “…panic in the streets as,” clicked again, “…we haven’t seen anything quite like this, in what appears to be a flash mob,” once more, “…local business are advised to shut their doors, as the area has gone to.."
“Shit.” I muttered as I clicked off the TV, “…I gotta get to the shop!”
I chugged what black coffee was left in my mug, and grabbed my keys. Locked & Loaded was just across the street and around the corner, but I always took a shortcut and came in through the back door – you know, for security purposes. Don’t need everyone on the street knowing I’m about to open up shop.
“God-damned cocksuckers!!” I exclaimed, as I approached the broken screen door at the rear of the store. Running up to the doorway, I could see straight past the open oak door to the hallway within. I took a cautious first step inside, and realized that the door wasn’t forced open. Whoever had gotten in had picked the lock.
I slowly crept down the short hallway towards the front counter, surveying for any damage or missing items, as well as unwanted guests. I peeked around the corner into the main store area, and my worst fears were confirmed.
“Fuckers,” I said, with a sigh, “…cleared me out.”
The racks were bare, and my wall safe was hanging wide open. Looks like someone had opened it without drilling, but I was the only one who knew the combo. Between the back door, and the wall safe, my thoughts immediately fell to that damn part-timer again…
“Fucker.”
As I pondered this, I noticed a car alarm emanating from the next block over. Realizing all that stood between me and whatever the fuck was going on out there was a flimsy screen; I quickly slammed the large oak back door behind me. Flipping both deadbolts over, I heard what sounded like a wolf howling in the distance.
“What the fu…” I started, but was interrupted by glass shattering in the front of the store.
Instinctively, I unholstered the Magnum and cocked the hammer.
“Come get some, fuckers! No one’s stealing my shit without Mr. Magnum’s say-so!!” I roared as I pounded towards the front of the store.
I froze in my tracks. Whatever that was, standing on the front mat of my shop, it sure wasn’t interested in what I had to say. Torn shirt and tousled hair framing a twisted face and yellowed teeth, it stood motionless. Ordinarily, I’d say it’s just a druggie trying to score some quick cash, but sunlight shining through a half dozen small-caliber holes in his chest told me otherwise. They didn’t seem to bother him one bit.
“Hey! Uh… how are ya?” I queried, as I put the counter between us.
A low, rumbling growl was his response, as he tilted his head to one side.
“You… okay?” I tried again.
The lights flickered in the shop, and I heard the smaller of my generators attempt to kick on. I kept the 2000-watt one plugged in and set up to automatically take over if the grid power gave out, but the lights came back up on their own.
I was about to ask one more time, when he suddenly lunged, plowing straight into the glass display in the front of the counter. I saw a shelf support go clean into his thigh, but it didn’t even slow him down. He reached for me, stuck in the shelf, his teeth gnashing and breath smelling like absolute shit.
“Hasta la vista, baby.”
I summoned my best ‘Ahnold’ as I lifted the muzzle to his forehead and pulled the trigger. The crisp single-action engaged the firing pin, which struck the primer and sent a .44-caliber slug straight through his twisted face. In these small confines, the sound ricocheted loud and probably traveled right out the broken glass window he used to enter the shop. I heard fast footsteps coming from the street, and decided it was time to find cover. I ran behind the counter to grab a speedloader and a box of Magnum ammo and turned tail as I watched two more enter the shop through the shattered window.
Sprinting to the bathroom, I burst through the door and slammed it shut behind me just as the two crashed into the adjacent wall and crumpled. I gripped the ball arm of the old MacGyver’d rifle lock securely with my right hand, and slid the bolt forward into place, and swung the arm down to lock myself in.
“Shirley,” I bowed my head and spoke softly, as they started clawing at the door, “I love ya, girl…
“…but I’m not ready to see you again just yet. Get me through this alive.”
