Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Living the Life ❯ Shooting Ranges ( Chapter 9 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

By: Smortz

Disclaimer: This story belongs to Smortz. Characters and plot created by me as well

Chapter 9

“Get the fuck off me!” The man shouted angrily, shoving the other man off him roughly. He grabbed his scarf, retying it around his neck.

“Why should we stay here? We're relying on the people who got us into this mess!” He whispered harshly, yet quietly as the group of people talked in their small cots.

Mike remained leaning against the wall silently, his eyes closed but ears open as he sucked in the toxic smoke from his cigarette.

“They didn't get us into this mess though,” a smaller girl, looking a year younger then Quinn murmured, “They're just retired soldiers that protected us, and that's more than the current army has done.”

He saw Quinn in his side vision, walking with that damned Marines guy, Carlos. “And look at what happened earlier? They found a hole in the fence and I heard the girl was attacked by one.”

Another nodded eagerly, “I heard they're learning things, they're running now and the soldiers are worried about them learning to climb.”

Mike saw Quinn and Carlos stop to listen to the conversation, a look of seriousness written on their faces.

He could've laughed. The rebellion group didn't even know how to be discrete.

“I think we should get out of here, I can fly that chopper,” the one who started it suggested, rubbing his chin with an intense look on his face, a look of hate as well.

“And where would you go?” Carlos piped up from the warehouse doors, his arms folded over his chest and Quinn beside him with a smug look on her face.

Mike had loved the nervous Quinn. The morning after the party he'd felt nothing but guilt but when she'd woken up and decided to be a `bad girl' he'd been more than willing to take in a student.

He chuckled, he'd never heard anyone refer to themselves as a `bad girl' until Quinn.

Now, he looked her over, the army tank top still soaked with blood, it had dried after being washed, but would be an everlasting stain. The pants were baggy, giving her the official army look and the hair pulled into a tight yet loose bun made her look tough.

She really did look like a `bad girl'.

The groupies looked to their master, who had a glare on his face. “Anywhere's better then here, we're a last resort for you guys, if that fence breaks down, you'll throw us out there like fish food,” he warned.”

“They're not getting through both gates,” Quinn grumbled, setting her hands on her hips, “even if they did learn to climb, you can't climb brick and razor wire.”

The man sneered, “Fuck you guys, starting all of this in the first fucking place. You think you guys rule the Earth?”

Mike sighed, the man was sinking lower and lower.

“If you want to leave, you can leave at anytime,” Carlos proclaimed, “just don't expect any supplies, if you leave, you leave the way you are.”

The man scoffed, reaching into his belt and Mike's eyes widened at the revolver that was pointed towards Carlos and Quinn.

Quinn had drawn her gun but not fast enough. “Let us have the chopper!”

Quinn snorted, “Are you stupid? Even if you shoot us, there are about thirty other highly trained soldiers, not to mention a colonel that you'll have to take down before you reach that helicopter.”

Mike smiled, flicking his cigarette to the ground, but now making any sign of existence.

“Put the gun down,” the younger girl pleaded, her hand reaching up in front of the barrel.

He slapped her away and Quinn thought she'd have a clear shot as she pulled the trigger, the shot echoing around the warehouse painfully. The gun fell to the ground, the man shouting his pain out to no one in particular as he held his bloodied hand.

“Why you bitch, you shot off my finger!” He roared, charging her.

Carlos elbowed his chest, and he collapsed to the floor with chocking gasps of air. “Get a medic,” Quinn ordered to Carlos as she crouched down to the man's level. Mike began to walk over cautiously, afraid the man would try something on Quinn.

“Hey,” she whispered to him, “we're not working to throw you all to the zombies as food, we're working to keep you all safe until we know how to solve this … thing. So stop trying to be Jim fucking Jones and put down the pitcher of Kool-Aid, `cause flying that chopper out with no where safe to go is the same as stepping outside the fences.”

The medic as well as Carlos rushed over. The medic dropping the first aid pouch to take a look at the man's hand, gobs of blood gushing from the bullet wound that ran between the thumb and forefinger.

“That's a hell of a shot, Quinn,” Mike said quietly behind her.

“I guess I was lucky,” she replied, her words finished with a yawn as she tucked her gun back into her holster.

“How many rebellious groups have you noticed?” Quinn muttered her eyes scanning the large warehouse.

“Too many to count,” Mike responded. The survivors had separated into groups, beginning to question if their lives were safe in the hand of soldiers.

“Barb's beginning to worry, a few guns went missing and she doubled the patrol,” Quinn warned as she watched the medic begin to stitch the silent man up.

Mike followed after her as she walked to his group and picked up the blood covered revolver. “How could you shoot at someone… how did you know you were going to hit what you aim?” A man asked and Quinn emptied the revolver's ammo into her hand, as if contemplating the question.

“I haven't missed a shot before, I don't think I'll start now,” she answered, slipping the gun into her hand to give them all that friendly, soft yet fake smile she'd charmed Mike, himself, with. “Don't plan these things by yourself, if you're worried about your well-being here, you could ask the soldiers what's going on,” she informed them rather loudly, as if to voice the same thing to other people who were staring.

The girl jumped at the offer, “What is going on? What happened earlier?”

Quinn gave a small sigh, “Well, we noticed a hole in the fence, some had slipped through so we went and patched it up and made sure to clear the area between the two fences. We surrounded the patched area with razor wire as well, so I don't think it'll be broken anytime soon.”

“Are they really learning? Are we just going to sit and wait for them to pile up on us?” An older man asked, covering his mouth to cough.

“It seems recently they've picked up on normal human behavior like running and hanging on to things, and even hand-to-hand combat basics, but we can handle that easily, because we have guns and they don't,” she paused to think of the next question and Mike was almost amazed to see her handling rebellions so well.

“We're currently trying to make contact with nuclear plants and power plants, we want to keep those under control. Also, the government hasn't issued anything to what has been going on and how they'll handle it so we're playing it by ourselves. If we are ran over, we do have tricks up our sleep, and none of those tricks involve feeding any of you to them. In fact, your safety is our priority, if it wasn't, you wouldn't be here.”

Mike laughed, he couldn't help it, “You sound like a real soldier, you know, like respectful and shit.”

Quinn gave him a narrowed eyed sideways glance before the girl gasped, “You're not a soldier?”

Quinn smiled at her, “Actually, I'm a high school student, my relative is in the army and she's kind of raised me in a boot camp.”

“So… you're not a professional army soldier?” A man asked cautiously.

“Nope, but I can promise you that I'm better trained than any soldier here,” she whispered with a wink before sighing, “Goodnight.”

Quinn's fingers wove themselves into Mike's shirt dragging him along with her. “Sheesh, you really can't keep your mouth shut can you?”

“It was cute, adorable really,” Mike uttered in his defense as he cleared his throat.

“God, you smell horrible,” Quinn slurred pushing him away lightly.

“Jeez, you're making me blush,” Mike grumbled.

“You and Ryan both stink, it's horrible, I mean, out of all the ways to die you want poisoned,” she ranted as they made their way across the property to Barb's personal home.

“So, what were you and boy scout talking about?” Mike asked, veering off the smoking subject.

“Boy scout?” She asked, “Carlos, you mean?”

Mike gave a nod, “Mr. Boy Scout, can do no wrong.”

“Oh please,” Quinn grumbled, “we were patrolling and talking about the new jets that were issued this year, hardly the flirtatious words you're probably imagining.”

Mike chuckled, “Knowing you uttering something like that could be a turn on.”

“'Knowing me'? What's that supposed to mean?!” She uttered in her defense as they grabbed a plastic plate off the counter and was dished out a plate of spaghetti.

“It means, you know more about guns then Rambo, and enjoy it,” Mike muttered, “last time I checked, girls get off on any conversation about their likes.”

Quinn rolled her eyes as she pulled a plastic fork on to her plate and shook a good amount of garlic salt over her spaghetti.

Mike sat at a table, staring at Ryan who was talking to Alex's younger sister, Izzie. She wasn't bad looking at all. The brown locks were bordering a dirty blonde, the baby doll face was an adorable trait and she did have that deviant look in her eyes.

“He's already back to his perverted womanizing ways,” Quinn admonished, looking in the direction Mike was, “What's stopping you?” She asked, nudging her shoulder against his as she sucked a spaghetti noodle into her mouth.

Mike debated the question in his head, a flush hitting his cheeks, “Already got a girl on my mind.”

He knew Quinn would be too blind to link them together. “Oh? You should call her make sure she's alright.”

Mike snorted at her, “She's fine, she gets off on guns and jets.”

Quinn's face blushed heavily, matching the tomato sauce that was collecting on the corner of her lips. “I-That's not true,” she murmured. Mike shot her an incredulous look before she gave him that sheepish smile that made him feel like a lovesick puppy.

“I don't really care for jets,” she added before she resumed eating her spaghetti. Mike could only stare at her before shaking his head with a smile.

When she cleared her throat, her plate empty and her lips cleaned he looked up at her alert. “What?” He asked with a noodle slipping passed his lips.

“I was going to go shoot on the range, did you want to come?” She asked shyly.

“First date… shooting range,” he connected, thinking out loud before he swallowed the last bit of his spaghetti, “sounds good.”

“I-It's hardly a date,” she grumbled while she itched her nose. Mike stood up, following her example as he tossed his plate into the trash. “Lead the way Rambo.”

Quinn sighed at the horrible nickname as she pushed her way to t he stair case and down the stairs, blocking the path to the code pad as she punched in the number and pushed open the double doors.

“What's Mr. Boy Scout doing here?” Mike asked with a less then likeable tone.

“He's coming with us,” Quinn exclaimed and Mike let out a disappointed breath.

As if on queue Carlos smiled that boyish smile, “Ready to take off some heads?” He asked, holding up a set of headphones that looked like they could block out the sound of an atomic bomb.

“I'll have to grab another one…” he murmured looking to Mike who gave him a nod.

Carlos disappeared into the room behind him leaning in to grab a pair of headphones before tossing them to Mike, then continuing down the hall.

“Peter's worried about someone stealing his chopper now,” Carlos said, laced with a laugh.

“They piss me off,” Quinn replied with an irritated roll of her eyes, “if they were going to rebel they shouldn't have wanted you guys to save them in the first place. I mean I can't understand those people.”

Carlos tossed a glance over his shoulder at her, “They're just worried, they're lives are in our hands.”

Quinn forced a nod before he opened up another door.

It was like a completely different property.

There were rows of areas to shoot, targets were displayed throughout the arena that seemed to be at least the size of a football field. Some targets were hanging from rods that looked like they would move, other's seemed to be placed strategically hiding behind hay bales. “Woah,” Mike murmured, his small voice echoing.

“Yea, Barb's a perfectionist when it comes to shooting,” Quinn informed him as she pushed through a door and stared at all the guns on the racks. “There not real, they're still dangerous, so don't go joking around they just shoot air but have the same rebound as other guns,” she explained handing him a regular hand gun before she reached for a large assault rifle.

“Why do you get a big gun?” Mike asked with a pout as he watched Carlos grab a similar rifle.

“Cause we're snipers,” he chimed in as he mounted a specialize scope.

“You could shoot mine if you want,” Quinn muttered out loud, “after you hit like ten targets with that.”

Mike seemed to be happy again before Carlos and she picked two rows right next to each other and set there rifles on the counter. “I wish I could shoot lying down, it's easier,” he heard her whisper to Carlos who in turn laughed.

“When I was over in Jalabad, I had a sniper team that I was in, we were based to cover a mortar attack but we were shooting from inside a house so we couldn't lie down and we were all complaining about it,” Carlos laughed out, “you would've fit in well over there.”

“Not old enough still got three years,” she reminded, “two years tomorrow.”

The added part was a whisper and Mike and Carlos both went quiet as she took aim for the target in the back of the arena. The shot of sudden air was louder than an actual shot and Mike was thankful he had headphones to cover it before both their radios went off.

The echo of a helicopter over their heads had Carlos and Quinn staring at the ceiling before the voices over the radio clued in. “They got in! They got in!”

“Is that Hunter or Peter?” Quinn asked, with no hurry to get up. Carlos was the same, “I don't think it was either of them. They're probably talking about the outer fence.”

Then Barb's voice came over, “All units, report to weapon warehouse all units.” A loud fog horn went off and Mike had never seen a human move so fast as they dropped their rifles and herded him out of the room, flinging the headphones to the ground as they entered the hall were multiple soldiers were racing to get to the stairs.

“Mike, find Ryan and the others get them into Barb's room,” she shouted to him as they were separated, “there's a radio in the closet, listen for anything.”