Problems of a Dead World

Chapter 10: Personal Touch

Earl's eyes went wide as he scanned the large supply of shotguns in front of him. The firearms were spread across a massive range of size, material, and attachments. A few of the weapons bore grips on the bottom of the barrel, while others had modified sights or clips. It was hard for the human to decide at first, but he eventually thought it right to choose something simple. After a few moments, he reached for the closest shotgun to him without any modifications. It was a noticeably larger size than his previous shotgun, but he assumed there would be no difference. However, His arms nearly fell limp as the full weight of the weapon dawned on him, and fell to his waist.

"Fuuuuuck that..." He said in a strained voice as he lugged the weapon back up onto the shelf.

The firearm landed harshly on the metal after Earl had hoisted it up and dropped it on the shelf, and began scanning the rack once again. Nearby, shots were still echoing throughout the room as the humanized survivors continued their "target practice". Earl payed little mind however, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Alright. Power, and something that doesn't break my goddamn arms... He thought, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

After several seconds of contemplating his choice again, he reached for another shotgun, a few spaces above the one he had previously tried. Almost instantly, he noticed the considerable amount of weight that was absent compared to his other choice and shoved the thick stock into his shoulder firmly. The weapon was a stark, matte black. Similar to the color of the pistol he had supplied for Twilight.

Matching guns... He thought with a light chuckle.

Earl ran his hand across the top of the barrel for a moment and sat down up against the gun-rack behind him, brushing a considerable amount of dust off of the cold metal. A shiver quickly ran down his spine as the memories of the stand-off in his home entered his mind. The way the infected had just charged towards him with no remorse, the fear he felt when seeing their battered but still-living corpses. Lowering the weapon, he held on to the thought for a moment. The zeds struck infinite amounts of fear into his heart, because of the way they attacked...

With a nod of his head and a sinister smile, he ran across their battle-plan. Come with something fierce, attack fast, and be relentless. Strike fear into the hearts of those who have pushed them to this. Get mad.

"Fuckers won't know what hit em'..." Earl thought with a chuckle.

Since then, his sanity had almost been fully regained, knowing his friends were safe. But something was still itching at the back of his mind. A biting, nagging sensation that almost left him twitching. He was ready to kill, and he knew it.

Looking down to the weapon in his hands, he noticed something off about it. He tilted the shotgun to the side and let his eyes run down the length of the firearm , and back up it, examining every square-inch of the deadly piece of metal in his hands. Something was definitely missing. The human shifted the gun into his right hand and shoved the butt-end of it into the ground. Using the weapon as a support, he returned to his feet. The gunshots were still blaring throughout the room, only stopping for a few seconds as the four reloaded their weapons.

Earl looked around the isle for something, anything that might add the final touch to the weapon he was wielding. A personal touch. Nothing came into view at first, but after a few moments of scanning, a shining roll of black electrical tape quickly caught his eye. As he took in the sight of the all-powerful electrical tape, a thought wormed it's way into his mind. He anxiously reached his hand into one of the pockets on his pants and fished around for a moment. When he retracted his hand from the pocket, a familiar looking knife glistened in the lights from above. Earl glanced between the knife and electrical tape wildly, a wicked grin growing on his face.

Without any further thought, Earl took a step towards the shelf just below the gun-rack and set the shotgun down. He then took the knife in his opposite hand and placed it against the barrel. The length of the knife reached from the tip of the barrel to the tip of the forestock, mounted just below the barrel. The wicked grin on Earl's face only grew wider as he reached for the electrical tape. Using his thumb to secure the knife in place, he unrolled part of the tape and placed it on the handle of the knife. Within seconds, he was wildly spinning the roll of tape around the barrel, securing the knife to it. Roll after roll, Earl's wicked smile grew. Sure, it wasn't the sturdiest make-shift bayonet, but everything could be solved with more tape. The human simply continued rolling the black tape around the barrel of the weapon until it ran out, about a half-inch thick wall of tape connecting the metal of the shotgun to the handle on the knife.

"Perfect..." He whispered to himself, pulling the weapon off of the table.

The knife stayed in position as Earl gave the shotgun a few thrusts and swings. Satisfied with his modification, he looked back to the gun-rack. Just below the shelf where he had completed his work, was another shelf, lined with boxes bearing a picture of shotgun shells on the front. With another smile, Earl reached for one of the small cardboard boxes and popped it open. Waiting inside, was a small army of shotgun shells, just waiting to be loaded. The human placed the box on the shelf just above and began loading the bright-red shells into his newly-modified weapon. After making sure the weapon was fully loaded, he shoved the box with the remainder of shells into his pocket, then reached below to grab one more box. Making sure he had filled his pockets with ammo, he turned around and smiled.

Click-Click

"Celestia, it feels good to do that again..."