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The general store had its own facilities, so after breakfast, toilet and washup, they loaded tools, rope and lunch in two baskets and headed back the same way they had entered the village, past the silent church and courtyard, onto the road for half a kilometer, then left through the maize field where their trail began, but this time machete-hacking a clear path into the jungle. They found the tent and its boxes, no problem, but how to open them safely was the question. Matt cautioned. "Sometimes smugglers boobytrap their stash because they'd rather destroy everything than lose it to enemies. We need to look for hidden wires." Carefully they lifted leaves and twigs around the tent - nothing. Then inside shining flashlights they peered closely at the bottom edges of each box - nothing. "The worst case would be if they set an explosive charge inside one of the boxes that could only be disengaged by electronic signal. So we'll tie this rope around one box at a time, stretch it out behind this tree and give it a hard jerk. If nothing happens, we go to the next box, and the next. If nothing happens that probably means we can safely pull the boxes out of the tent and under this tree. Then we throw the rope over that branch and hoist our tool basket up and drop it on each box while we stay behind the tree. That should set off any device inside, maybe. But Billy interrupted. "Wait a minute! Isn't there another way to fight the alligators?" Matt replied. "Only a bullet or a very sharp arrow or spear can penetrate the tough hide of an alligator, and crocodiles are worse." "You mean like a crossbow?" Yeah." "Can we make one?" "That would take a week and it probably wouldn't work since we're not even good carpenters." "Why do you think these boxes are boobytrapped?" "Because they weren't hidden properly. The smugglers should have buried them, but they didn't. So, for all we know, this could be a trap set by one faction against another. We have no way of knowing." Billy grumbled. "Damn stupid people! Damn stupid World!" "Crazy." Matt agreed. "Stark raving mad." "So we're stuck then?" "No, we just have to be very careful." So, they went through the necessary rigmarole of Matt's safety precautions, which resulted in no explosion, and then they dared to open a box - with no bang or boom. Billy exclaimed. "All that scary work for nothing! Uncle Matt, you're too much!" "I know it." Inside the boxes they found, not military weapons, but a collection of well-oiled personal firearms, each in a canvas sleeve, and some had name plates on the stock. Matt speculated. "These must have been stolen from some wealthy estate, and the thieves stashed them here to sell. Apparently, this jungle really was a marketplace for all sorts of weapons." The smaller box proved to be what Matt expected, a supply of ammunition for each rifle and pistol, also several ear muff sets. "We can't possibly carry all this back with us, so we'll examine everything and pick out a weapon for each of us. Some of these are high-powered hunting rifles, too much for my elderly shoulders, or a boy like you." "But Uncle Matt, soon I'll grow stronger and be able to shoot any big rifle." "We're not likely to be here that long. We need weapons we can travel with." "Where are we going?" "The mountains. Not today, but maybe in a month or two." "Why?" "Because a cooler mountain climate is the only area we'll be safe from the growing populations of reptiles and insects; and we need to find Maria Alvarez, and any other survivors we can find. But right now we need to teach ourselves how to safely shoot these guns, and the best place is here in the jungle." Matt didn't know enough about weapons to identify all the calibers and their kick, so he picked a smaller rifle that looked like a Western style Winchester, guessing and hoping it would be enough to kill the alligators. But choosing anything for Billy was a problem. How could he entrust even a small pistol to a 13 year old boy who may only recently have stopped playing with toys? Then he noticed a clear plastic package at the back of the 3rd box, and looking closer, he laughed. "What's funny?" Billy asked. "Do you remember Jean Shepherd's Christmas story where Ralphie pressures his Mom and Dad for a Red Ryder BB gun?" "I think so, maybe." "Well, on Christmas morning Ralphie thinks his campaign has failed until his Dad tells him to look at the back of the tree, and there it is, a BB rifle." "Yeah, I remember." Well, Ralphie, look at the back of that 3rd box." Billy was puzzled as he stepped closer, hoping it was not actually a wretched BB gun, but saw that instead it was a dis-assembled crossbow, which left him speechless. Matt laughed again, and spread his arms wide. "The Darien is our Christmas tree!" "How 'bout that!" Billy managed to say. Matt asked. "Did you ever have a bow and arrow?" "Yeah, but I couldn't pull it, so I wanted a crossbow that you could crank up easily." "Well, here it is Ralphie." Billy laughed and said, "Cut that out! Are there any bolts?" They rummaged through the ammo box and found a tight little quiver with 10 short but thick arrows. "They won't last long. Maybe we can make some." Billy said. Nevertheless, this had solved Matt's problem. "Now Billy, a crossbow is also a dangerous weapon, but not as prone to accidents as a gun, so this will be yours, which means you must not touch any of these guns unless I'm with you, OK?" "OK." Billy was satisfied. Thus, they faced the dangerous problem of an amateur adult and boy trying to teach themselves how to shoot without wounding or killing each other. Matt loaded his rifle and said to Billy, "Whenever I shoot you stand behind me. I'm going to aim at that big tree over there, what is it, about a hundred feet, or 90 meters? After I fire I'll put the gun down flat on this box cover pointing away from us, then we'll both go over to see what I hit, OK?" "OK." Billy agreed. So Matt stood at a slight angle from his line of fire, feet apart, aimed slowly and pulled the trigger. "CRACK!" and Matt's shoulder jerked back. "OK, that wasn't too bad. Now I lay the rifle down facing away." Examining the tree showed a gash on the right side, not a direct hit. "If that was an alligator, I would have missed." The next shot hit solidly. "Good. This is the gun for me." But all I have are these two little boxes of ammunition, so no more practice shots." Suddenly Matt was sneezing, short, quick bursts, eyes watering and nose running. For a second Billy thought the virus had caught him. Then he snickered and laughed. "Uncle Matt, you're allergic to gunsmoke!" Matt waved his arms, walking back to the tent, trying to escape the smell, and there he stood, coughing and wheezing, till finally the fumes dissipated. "Some sheriff I turned out to be! When I was your age I watched the TV series very faithfully and pretended I was Matt Dillon. But Billy never watched the rerun channel, so he missed the irony. "Tomorrow I'll have to make a face mask." Billy grinned and said "I'll carry a fan and wave while you shoot!" "Yeah, right(!)" Then it was the crossbow's turn, a 150 lb. modern compound, so Billy would be able to pull it to load, no problem, and it assembled with a screw driver. It took a couple of minutes for Matt to help him stand and aim properly, but then Matt said, "Wait a minute, Billy, you've only got 10 bolts. If you miss one or two shots, they'll be lost in the jungle and you'll be left with only 8. So, let's set up two of these boxes as a target, then you'll be sure to get them back." So they did, and Billy's first bolt, shot from only a few yards away, punched straight through the first box and into the second. Billy shouted "Wow! OK!" And Matt said."If that had been an alligator, it's jaws would have been shut forever." Flushed with success, they repacked the other guns and renailed the boxes shut inside the tent, zipped it up and piled on more leaves and branches to protect what was now their private arsenal. Then they loaded up their baskets and started back, each with a basket in one hand the other holding a weapon over a shoulder and marching along almost confidently, as if the power of their weapons would now resolve their dilemma, a deceitful emotion not long to be tolerated by events. By the time they got to the maize field the skies were darkening with rainclouds, and as they approached the general store, it poured down. So, they stored their baskets and weapons, picked up bars of soap and stepped back out naked in the street to enjoy the only kind of shower they were ever likely to get in the Post Holocine World that now surrounded them. The river would still be there tomorrow. |
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