Chapter 9: Ranging

In half a hour, they’d said goodbye to their parents, and were again sitting in the cab, and this time, ready to go.

“I thought about where we should go. Since you already checked all the nearby farms, Skeet, and rescued or put down the abandoned live stock, what is your opinion on us checking out the town? Too dangerous? If raiders have moved in, it might be a good idea to know their strength and where they are.”

Morgan studied Doc’s face for an indication. Doc gave a tactical hand signal. “Move out. Homework assignment! Study infantry tactic hand signals. At home.” She gave him one manual.

They drove the thirty miles to the edge of town. A looted Walmart was at the rear of a large empty parking lot.

“Let’s check it out.” Doc suggested. Morgan drove straight up to the doors. All the glass was shattered. They locked the truck, loaded their guns and went inside. There was a still a lot of product inside but everything was jumbled on the floor in piles. Nothing remained on racks or shelves. It was a huge mess! Doc headed for sporting goods, Morgan right behind. Doc picked up a cheap plastic trashcan. Then later exchanged it for a plastic bucket with a bail.

In sporting goods, Doc rummaged around through a couple of piles then began loading jugs of 500 count .25 cal slingshot ball ammo in the bucket. She added plastic packs of fishhooks, spools of fishing line, and some swivels and sinkers, all the few she found. Moving back towards the entrance, she picked up several rolls of colored duct tape and some good quality paint brushes. And a five gallon bucket of exterior paint, in hardware. A bunch of thick aluminum knitting needles, about 18 inches long, and dozens of scissors, packs of sewing needles, all she found, from the sewing section, ended up in the bucket, too. Doc checked inside the restrooms near the entrance. They returned, each carrying a bucket, to the truck and loaded the full bucket of loot and the pail of paint in the bed.

“We’ll come back again another day. There is a lot more here worth scavenging. This is enough for today but we need more paint. Society may have stopped, maintenance never does!” Doc promised. “I know you have questions Morgan. I am proud you know this isn’t the time to ask. Let’s ease on downtown. Check it out.” This time, Doc held the loaded and closed guns upright between her knees. Safeties on, but ready for action. She paid close attention to several half starved slinking mongrel dogs. They were trotting in line, follow the leader, down a side street. They were soon lost to view as the Dodge passed the intersection. They never encountered a human soul. Doc encouraged Morgan to fire several loads of buckshot at some distant dogs. Morgan didn’t want to and didn’t hit any.

“I was really trying, didn’t miss on purpose. I tried even though I didn’t want to shoot them!” Morgan worried Doc might think he was unwilling to obey orders.

“Now you know why it’s sometimes referred to as a scatter gun. Hits almost everywhere except where you aimed to hit.” Doc laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Those dogs were never in danger. They were out of range. They are feral and dangerous. They don’t fear people and think we are a source of food. The once beloved pets would enjoy eating you. We will eventually have to kill them. Get used to the idea. Assignment: Learn ranges of shot loads in the reload tables. Here is a copy for you.” She handed him the second manual. Even with the recoil pad on the shooting jacket absorbing some of the punishment, Morgan’s shoulder was soon aching. Doc called ceasefire, and Morgan drove them home.

After supper, they sat sorting through the Walmart loot at the worktable, outside on the porch.

“I wonder where everybody went?” Morgan worried. “That was a creepy town.”