definitely not legal before the zombie outbreak. He held it like he knew how to use it, despite his geeked-out attire.
As he moved a few cautious steps closer, I noticed hewas pretty young. Probably just a handful of years older than us.
Maybe
mid-thirties?
Another thing that hit me right away was that he was clean. Not spit-shine clean like most of us, but
really
clean. I swear I could smell the soapy scent of his skin and the fresh detergent of his clothing even from here and it was like heaven.
He was cute, too. I’ll admit it. He kind of had a Luke Wilson in
The Royal Tenenbaums
(rather than Luke Wilson hyping cell phones) vibe about him that made me blink a couple of times despite the fact that he had a gun in my face and apparently had some kind of control over a whole bunch more.
“I’m sorry to do this,” he called out. “But I
do
have the power to pull all these triggers at once so I hope you won’t be rash. Simply do as I say and allow me the time to explain myself and I won’t have to use this.”
He lifted some kind of remote from his pocket that apparently operated the weapons around us, then slipped it back into his shirt pocket and returned his finger to the trigger of the gun he held.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dave snapped, still holding me against his back in a big old hero pose. “
You
called
us
here!”
I stared at the guy over Dave’s shoulder, still intrigued by the dichotomy of the cute face, the nerdy jacket, and the big-ass gun.
“Didn’t you?” I asked.
The guy nodded. “Oh yes, I did indeed ensure that a message was posted for you at the New Phoenix survivor camp, though I didn’t post it myself.”
“Then why the fuck are you pointing a gun—”
“A shitload of guns,” I interrupted.
Dave shot me a look over his shoulder. “Pardon me, a
shitload
of guns at us?”
“I am very happy to explain,” the man said. “But first I have to insist that you disarm yourselves fully and come into the warehouse.”
“Disarm ourselves,” Dave said softly, so only I could hear. “Is he nuts?”
I looked at our captor. He didn’t have the wild look about him that some people did after everything we’d all been through. That didn’t mean he wasn’t nuts, of course, just that he was able not to show it as clearly as say… Jimmy No-Toes.
“What choice do we have?” I asked.
Dave looked at the guy for a long moment and I could see the wheels turning in his mind, looking for a way out of this just like he’d found a way out of dozens of other situations over the past few months.
“Those guns might not even be attached to that remote,” he finally said.
I shrugged, though his suggestion didn’t make me feel all that much better. “I guess it’s possible. And even if they are, he called us here so he must need us. Maybe he won’t really press the button. But do you want to test it?”
Apparently he did because Dave lifted his gun to his shoulder and pointed it at the lab coat guy. “I don’t think so, asswipe. Instead, I think you’re going to let us back away and get into our van.”
“Please David,” Lab Coat said. “I really don’t think that would be wise. Just come inside and I swear to you that I’ll explain everything to you and Sarah.”
But Dave wasn’t going to agree just because the guyknew our names. Like I said before, it wasn’t that shocking thanks to our minor celebrity status in the local area. People called us by our first names all the time.
Most of them just weren’t pointing a gun… I’m sorry, a
shitload
of guns… at us. Dave shook his head and started inching backward toward the van. With a grimace, Lab Coat Guy reached into his pocket and pressed a button. In unison the guns around us cocked or their safety measurements slid off.
I flinched. Shit, that thing really
did
control the weapons mounted at every conceivable angle.
“David…” I whispered.
But to my surprise, he wasn’t paying attention to the fact
As he moved a few cautious steps closer, I noticed hewas pretty young. Probably just a handful of years older than us.
Maybe
mid-thirties?
Another thing that hit me right away was that he was clean. Not spit-shine clean like most of us, but
really
clean. I swear I could smell the soapy scent of his skin and the fresh detergent of his clothing even from here and it was like heaven.
He was cute, too. I’ll admit it. He kind of had a Luke Wilson in
The Royal Tenenbaums
(rather than Luke Wilson hyping cell phones) vibe about him that made me blink a couple of times despite the fact that he had a gun in my face and apparently had some kind of control over a whole bunch more.
“I’m sorry to do this,” he called out. “But I
do
have the power to pull all these triggers at once so I hope you won’t be rash. Simply do as I say and allow me the time to explain myself and I won’t have to use this.”
He lifted some kind of remote from his pocket that apparently operated the weapons around us, then slipped it back into his shirt pocket and returned his finger to the trigger of the gun he held.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dave snapped, still holding me against his back in a big old hero pose. “
You
called
us
here!”
I stared at the guy over Dave’s shoulder, still intrigued by the dichotomy of the cute face, the nerdy jacket, and the big-ass gun.
“Didn’t you?” I asked.
The guy nodded. “Oh yes, I did indeed ensure that a message was posted for you at the New Phoenix survivor camp, though I didn’t post it myself.”
“Then why the fuck are you pointing a gun—”
“A shitload of guns,” I interrupted.
Dave shot me a look over his shoulder. “Pardon me, a
shitload
of guns at us?”
“I am very happy to explain,” the man said. “But first I have to insist that you disarm yourselves fully and come into the warehouse.”
“Disarm ourselves,” Dave said softly, so only I could hear. “Is he nuts?”
I looked at our captor. He didn’t have the wild look about him that some people did after everything we’d all been through. That didn’t mean he wasn’t nuts, of course, just that he was able not to show it as clearly as say… Jimmy No-Toes.
“What choice do we have?” I asked.
Dave looked at the guy for a long moment and I could see the wheels turning in his mind, looking for a way out of this just like he’d found a way out of dozens of other situations over the past few months.
“Those guns might not even be attached to that remote,” he finally said.
I shrugged, though his suggestion didn’t make me feel all that much better. “I guess it’s possible. And even if they are, he called us here so he must need us. Maybe he won’t really press the button. But do you want to test it?”
Apparently he did because Dave lifted his gun to his shoulder and pointed it at the lab coat guy. “I don’t think so, asswipe. Instead, I think you’re going to let us back away and get into our van.”
“Please David,” Lab Coat said. “I really don’t think that would be wise. Just come inside and I swear to you that I’ll explain everything to you and Sarah.”
But Dave wasn’t going to agree just because the guyknew our names. Like I said before, it wasn’t that shocking thanks to our minor celebrity status in the local area. People called us by our first names all the time.
Most of them just weren’t pointing a gun… I’m sorry, a
shitload
of guns… at us. Dave shook his head and started inching backward toward the van. With a grimace, Lab Coat Guy reached into his pocket and pressed a button. In unison the guns around us cocked or their safety measurements slid off.
I flinched. Shit, that thing really
did
control the weapons mounted at every conceivable angle.
“David…” I whispered.
But to my surprise, he wasn’t paying attention to the fact
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