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Weapons Scrounger.
Santee said he was ready to start the job tomorrow, after he rested. "I brought down the last of my stuff,
plus two rifles, and I'm beat."
"Mrs. Tippett says, until we can get an armory, we can use her front room to store all the guns and
ammo you round up. That should make things handy for you. I already know some people who have
shotguns to contribute, and pretty soon I guess we're going to have to figure out how to get your guns
down here."
"Yeah, I've been worrying about that. When I was up there yesterday I didn't see signs that anybody but
me had been there, but we can't be lucky forever. I figure those guns are worth a fortune these days, and
we sure as hell don't want any of them shooting back at us."
"You said you've got, what, sixty rifles, plus how much ammo? We could round up some pack horses, I
guess, or try to get your jeep through..." He trailed off.
"You guys got the kids doing basic? How about a nice Recon run?" That was a long trip in full packs.
Army recruits have hated them since the dawn of time.
Frank's face lit up. "I like it! We can get sixty rifles in one trip."
"Uh, I counted," Santee said, a little sheepishly. "It's more like eighty. Plus some pistols."
"Okay, two Recon runs. We can send some armed scouts with them for protection."
"Uh..."
"Three?"
"Four. Maybe five. Bullets are heavy." Santee shrugged.
"You're going to be 'That bastard on the hill' to those boys." Frank grinned.
"Won't be the first time privates have cussed me. Do 'em some good, in the end."
"If it's any compensation, remember that Mike says you're allowed to teach them to swear."
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"Go up and down that fucking hill enough, I do believe they'll learn all by their lonesome."
* * *
"Yes ma'am, I'm sure you should keep your shotgun. You wouldn't want some mo , uh, evil person to
get past our sentries and into your house without some way of fu , uh, sending him to meet his maker.
Are you sure you know how to use it?"
"Son, I was shootin' pheasants when you were in diapers, and you ain't a young man. Don't you worry
about me none. But my husband's rifles you're welcome to; we lost him back in '93. I'm happy to help
out the country."
Eddie spoke up. "Do you have plenty of shells for the shotgun? Sixteen-gauge is a bit out of style, but
I'm sure I can round up some more in town."
She pointed to the closet. "Twelve boxes should be more than enough, plenty of buckshot and slugs,
too. Now you get along, take those back to the army, then go visit the Bradleys next door. Owen used
to brag over his hunting rifle something fierce, and Grace won't know what to do with it."
Santee practically bowed his way out of the house, followed by Eddie. "Yes ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."
As the door closed, Santee wiped his brow, though it wasn't a warm day. This was as hard a job as he'd
had in twenty years.Talk sweet and mind your tongue around the ladies enough to drive a fucking
preacherto swearing!
"That went well." Eddie said. "She's a little oldfashioned, isn't she?"
"Yeah. Nice, though. Let's hope they're all that easy." They carried the rifles back to Mrs. Tippett's front
room (now an arms depot) and planned their next sortie.
* * *
Santee said stiffly, "Well, okay, Mr. Jones. We're only supposed to pick up what guns there are to
spare."
"Fine. I got none to spare." Bobby Jones was a loud, fat, redneck-looking man in a dirty T-shirt who
(according to Eddie's friend Jeff) worked as a mechanic and handyman and was the person to call if you
wanted it cheap and didn't care if it was done right.
Eddie was absolutely sure that Jones was lying. "Okay," he said, turning as if to leave. "Say, when did
you shoot that deer? Nice rack on him." He pointed to the stuffed head on the wall.
Thus primed, Jones went into a long, boring description of the hunt. "...Anyways, Coop and me and
Doug went there the year before, scouting around for sign..."
Santee looked impatient, but Eddie listened attentively. Once, when Jones was looking away, he
signaled Santee to stay quiet.
"... Anyways, I finally got him down to the car and got old Dickey Estes to stuff him for me."
Eddie nodded. "Great. Thanks. Well, we gotta go now..."
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Santee and Eddie stepped outside, and as Jones stood in the doorway, Eddie turned and said to him, "I
think we'll go talk to Coop and Doug next. Is Dickey Estes still around?"
Jones suddenly stopped as he was closing the door on the Chief Weapons Scrounger and his young
assistant. He realized what Eddie had done and tried to think of a way around it. Mild panic washed over
his face as he looked at Eddie.
Eddie carefully kept his face blank, showing nothing that could directly challenge the large man. Jones'
hunting buddies would surely tell them about the guy's guns and Eddie was sure he had several to
spare. That's why he'd put up with the long story, of course. Now that the trap was sprung, Jones could
only admit he had some rifles to donate, or be disrespected as a hoarder by his friends.
Jones looked at Eddie, then slumped his shoulders. "Wait a minute," was all he said as he went.
Ten minutes later Santee and his assistant were struggling back to Mrs. Tippett's with eight rifles and
assorted ammo. "Slick, Eddie! Good job. I didn't see how you could really be interested in that stupid
long-winded story of his... We've got to get a wagon or something!" He'd almost dropped a box of shells
and had to reposition his load. "So, what made you think of that?"
Eddie grinned bashfully "I learned it playing Dungeons and Dragons. We had a similar problem back in
Bloomtree, but it was with one of the Elven blacksmiths. Worked out about the same, except for the
cursed gauntlets we got stuck with."
Santee chuckled. "Well, we better check these rifles. I bet some of them don't work. From the look of
that guy's house he knows nothing about cleaning."
* * *
"So we have a total mishmash." Santee had just handed his written report to Mike Stearns and Frank
Jackson, who were standing in Mrs. Tippett's crowded front room among piles of firearms and ammo.
"A bunch of deer rifles in, by my count, fifteen different civilian calibers, and no more than a few hundred
rounds of ammo for most of them. A bunch of foreign military rifles, mostly German 8mm. The thing we
have the most loaded ammo for is the SKS everyone who bought a rifle bought a case or two when it
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