by Nathan Jones
They'd just finished their study session and Nelson and some of the others were heading out for pizza. It was pretty common, and they'd actually had enough of their sessions at the restaurant to pretty much be regulars. They even had a game of seeing who could drink the most glasses of free refilled root beer while they were there. The record was sixteen, and Trev had stopped trying to win when he'd had eleven in one sitting and spent the rest of the evening feeling like he was going to explode.
This time, though, he'd refused the offer to join them. When pressed a little he'd explained he wanted to get to a sporting goods store before it closed since it was the last day they were having their sale on several quality camping items he had his eye on.
This had led one of the girls, a cute brunette named Ellen, to ask if he was into backpacking, sounding excited that they had that in common. Trev usually didn't broadcast just how serious he was in his preparedness efforts, but he liked the group and more importantly had been trying to work up the nerve to have a real conversation with Ellen for the last few weeks. So he'd answered “Yeah, that too.”
Pretty vague, but Nelson knew him well enough. “Oh, getting your Bug Out Bag, eh?”
Trev had admitted that was a priority, and endured the ribbing that followed. One of the guys even started humming the theme to a zombie TV show that was big at the moment. The conversation had eventually gotten around to food storage, before people started getting impatient about getting some actual food rather than talking about it.
What stuck in Trev's mind, though, was that just before the others left Nelson lagged behind a second and apologized for tossing him into the spotlight like that. Trev had asked his study mate if he wanted to come along and get his own camping supplies and Nelson had just laughed.
“Nah, man. You know if things go to pot everyone's going to be dropping like flies, and everyone who does live will probably wish they hadn't. I figure I'd rather be one of the former.”
That had genuinely shocked Trev, especially after the recent nuclear war in the Middle East had cemented in his mind just how much he wanted to survive. He'd been tempted to argue that starving to death was a horrible way to die, not to mention that most religions frowned on suicide and what Nelson proposed was toeing the line, but he really didn't know the guy well enough to press the issue. So he'd just said his goodbyes and headed out.
Now, with his row of gas cans in the back of the trunk, his gun case still in sight, and his backpack sticking out conspicuously, Trev couldn't help but notice the way Nelson was looking at his possessions, seeing the fruits of his efforts to be prepared. His former study mate was probably thinking of that conversation, too, because he looked a bit embarrassed as he came up to Trev and gave the trunk a curious once-over.
“Crazy day, huh?” Trev asked, feeling somewhat awkward. The situation was too serious to feel satisfaction at being right, but he did feel slightly vindicated in his viewpoint.
“Yeah, sure,” Nelson mumbled. “Looks like you're bugging out.”
“That's the idea. You should probably get out of the city too before things get too bad.”
The student glanced at him, then away, and shrugged. “Yeah, it looks that way.” Without another word he continued on towards the dorm.
Trev watched him go. The conversation had been innocuous enough and Nelson hadn't seemed suspicious, but something about it made him uncomfortable. He finished shoving his pack in, closed the trunk and double-checked it was locked, then hurried back to the dorm.
When he came in Jim turned from the sandwich he was making. “You leaving, buddy?”
“Yeah,” Trev said. “I have a feeling this situation's going to get pretty bad so I'm heading home to ride it out.”
Connor, waiting for a burrito to microwave, walked over and clapped him on the shoulder. “Sad to see you go, but I'm not sure I blame you. I've been thinking maybe I should try to find a way to get home too.”
It embarrassed Trev that he didn't know the freshman well enough to know where “home” was for him. They'd only shared the apartment for a few weeks since the start of school. “That's probably a good idea if you can manage it. Especially if you live far away from a city.” Trev paused for a moment. “Hey, how'd you guys like to earn a few boxes of MREs?”
* * * * *
With the help of his roommates Trev had his car loaded up and ready to go pretty quickly, which was a relief considering how long it was taking him to get away.
He'd already brought the MREs out into the kitchen to show them, assuring them that even if they seemed unappetizing now they'd be happy to have them before too long. He'd also advised them to fill up every spare container they had with water, since it was anyone's guess how long the power would last and once it was out the water wouldn't be far behind as the remaining pressure gradually petered out.
The two students helped him get his last load into the car, then shook his hand a final time before heading back inside. Trev took a moment to do a bit of rearranging so he'd have a better view through the rear windshield, and he had the driver's side door open and was about to finally get into his car to head off when his phone rang.
Lewis, no surprise there. “Where are you, man?” his cousin asked, annoyance mostly hiding his concern. “I was expecting you hours ago.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I heard the President's address and decided I'd try to get some gas before it was all snatched up by the government, but didn't have any luck any of the places I went. Then I stopped to blow the rest of my money on nonperishable food and finally it's taken me a while to get all my stuff loaded up from my room. But I was just about to get on the road . . . when . . .”
Trev slowly set his phone down on the driver's seat and straightened, looking over the open car door. Nelson was back and walking towards him, but now the guy was wearing a jacket. Even though Trev himself was wearing a jacket the day was mild enough to not need one, and since the sandy-haired student hadn't been wearing one before this was suspicious. Especially since he had his hands jammed into the pockets.
His suspicion turned to alarm when Nelson had closed the distance between them to about ten feet, when he saw the man pull his right hand out of his pocket, jerking it like he was gripping something that was catching on the inner lining.
Things became a blur for Trev as he pulled aside his jacket flap with his free hand to draw his 1911 from its underarm holster, cursing inwardly when it caught on the strap he'd forgotten to unsnap and he wasted precious moments getting it free. All he remembered afterwards was that he wasn't acting in a panic or anything like that. There was a quick, but clear, chain of conclusions he'd reached that lead him to draw his weapon and bring it into firing position even though Nelson was going to beat him to the punch.
First off this was just the beginning of the catastrophe. Things weren't nearly bad enough yet for people to be acting based on desperation or extreme hunger. Which meant that unless Nelson was a psychopath he wasn't ready to actually shoot his gun, especially not out in public like this. The man had probably figured that since Trev was into preparedness he could get some easy supplies off him.
Which is why Trev didn't stop moving even though Nelson finished drawing a sleek 9mm, a Glock 17 he thought, and pointed it at him. Now that his former study mate turned bandit had seen him going for his own gun, if Trev stopped now he probably would get shot. He finished yanking his .45 free and brought it up, falling into stance with the correct grip Lewis had shown him like he'd done once or twice a year on the firing range since he'd first purchased the weapon, focused on the front sight aimed at Nelson's center mass even as he thumbed the safety off.
Nelson froze, gun wavering as he gaped at him. The would-be robber obviously hadn't been expecting any resistance, and before he'd even considered pulling the trigger his window of opportunity had passed.
Trev felt himself shaking, struggling to keep his aim steady even as he tried not to show how hard his arms were trembling from tension and, he'd rea
dily admit, fear. This was the first time he'd ever had a gun pointed at him for any reason, even by accident, and no matter what he might assume about the person behind the trigger he had no way of knowing whether the intent to kill was there.
When he spoke he realized his voice was also shaking, so he tried to pass it off as anger. “So much for your idea of just dying when disaster strikes, huh?”
Nelson smiled, almost sheepishly. “It's a lot easier to say stuff like that when it doesn't matter. Now that the disaster you predicted is actually here I kinda want to live.”
“And the Glock? Doesn't seem like something you'd get ahead of time when you were just planning on rolling over and giving up on life.” Trev was having a harder and harder time keeping his voice casual. He couldn't believe he was standing in the parking lot of his dorm in a standoff with a classmate.
The student's answer was a quick shrug. “My uncle's a gun nut. He gave it to me for my birthday. Took me out shooting with it a couple times so I know what I'm doing.”
“I doubt it. How about you just drop it and walk away?”
“Why don't you instead?” Nelson's surprise was passing, and by his growing confidence he had seen Trev's show of nerves. With a casual flick of his gun he pointed at the car. “While you're at it, why don't you toss me your keys too?”
The gun flick was a mistake. Even though the Glock was once again pointed at him Trev had got the information he needed. He calmly stepped back far enough to shut his car door then lunged forward, closing the distance between them in moments. The sandy-haired man was just starting to gape in shock as Trev grabbed the 9mm by the barrel, shoving it aside. Even as he did that he kicked up at Nelson's gut with all his strength. His study mate yanked frantically on the gun for half a second, then Trev's foot connected and he released it and folded over double with a strangled noise before dropping to the ground.
Keeping his 1911 pointed at the man one-handed the entire time, Trev awkwardly rotated Nelson's gun in his other hand so he could shove it muzzle-first into his pocket as he backed away. As he did he noted how much gunpowder residue coated the barrel beneath his fingers: it had been shot plenty but not cleaned afterwards. Small surprise, since that wasn't the only sign of inexperience the idiot had shown.
Before Nelson had finished rolling on the ground Trev had backed away a safe distance, gun once more in a two-handed grip. “Take off, Nelson, and be glad I'm not hauling you to the police. They have enough problems to deal with without worrying about some moron who doesn't even cock his gun before trying to rob someone.”
The guy glared at him with equal parts pain, confusion, and anger. “How do you know that?”
Trev tapped the 9mm in his pocket. “My first firearms instruction was from my uncle. His pistol of choice is also a Glock, and before we did anything else he ran us through safety rules for it. I got to see his weapon in all stages of readiness, enough to recognize that your finger on the trigger was way too far back so there's no way the weapon was cocked. And since the gun isn't cocked it's not very likely that you even had a round chambered.”
Nelson managed to push to his feet, still hunched over slightly. “Can't blame me for trying, right? You made it sound like you had plenty. A perfect target.”
Trev ignored that. “Walk away. If I see you again I'll shoot you.”
His classmate held up his hands in defeat. “Can I at least have my gun back? You can keep the bullets, I just don't want to be defenseless.”
He couldn't believe the balls on this guy. The sandy-haired student acted like he'd been caught cheating in a board game rather than trying to hold up an acquaintance at gunpoint. “What's wrong with you? Go.” When Nelson didn't immediately move he raised his voice to a shout. “Go!”
At that Nelson finally turned and staggered away, back to his dorm and inside.
As soon as he was gone Trev flipped the safety back on his gun and holstered it, then sagged down to the pavement leaning against the front of his car. In a way the encounter he'd just had was almost unreal. He'd spent the last few years frankly talking to his friends about the preparations he thought they'd be wise to make and the reasons he thought they were necessary. For the most part their response had been at best polite amusement at his quirky viewpoints, at worst good-natured ribbing. Or not so good-natured ribbing.
And yet the only person who'd actually taken his words to heart enough to see the seriousness of the disaster when it finally arrived hadn't been interested in preparing, he'd just wanted to rob Trev and benefit from his preparations. It was almost enough to make him lose faith in humanity.
Not to mention quite a bit of confidence in himself. Not only should he have seen Nelson coming a lot sooner but he should've been a lot quicker on the draw. And when he had his gun out? His aim had been wavering all over the place, his finger hadn't been properly positioned on the trigger for a smooth surprise break, and if he'd actually had to shot the recoil would've caused him problems like it always did.
Lewis had frequently warned him that his one or twice a year visits to the shooting range weren't nearly enough for him to even claim competency, let alone proficiency. Trev had tried to make up for that with dry fire practice, but even there he'd slacked off more than he should. And it had nearly cost him when his life depended on it. Once he got down to Aspen Hill he'd apologize to his cousin and really work on improving his-
Oh, Lewis. He'd spent the last half a minute or so sitting there dazed while his cousin was on the phone. In fact he could faintly hear muted squawking coming from beyond his still partly-open car door. He snapped back to reality and rushed to retrieve his phone.
“Trev? Trev! Come on, you idiot, what's going on?”
Trev took a breath. “Sorry man, I'm here.”
“About time! You just vanished mid-sentence and after that all I heard was some shouting. What happened?”
“Someone tried to rob me in my dorm's parking lot in broad daylight. I managed to get his gun away from him and send him packing.”
There was a long pause. “Whoa. I didn't expect things like that to be happening this soon.”
Trev noticed his hand holding the phone was shaking. “Me either. Listen, I need to call you back. I'll be on the road in a few minutes and on my way down. We can talk more then.”
Once he'd hung up with Lewis he took a few more minutes to steady his breathing, then lifted his phone again and dialed Matt's number.
“Hey. You make it to Aspen Hill?” his friend asked when he answered.
“No, still in the dorm's parking lot.
“Wow really? You said goodbye over two hours ago.”
“Yeah, I was a bit delayed. Hey could you come out here? I've got something I want you to have before I go.”
“Sure, I can cut my lunch break short. Be right there.”
Trev shoved the phone into his pocket and leaned back against his car, straightening every few moments to look around in all directions. He didn't exactly expect Nelson to come back and try anything else, and he couldn't see why anyone else would be a specific threat to him, but after having a gun pointed at his head it was impossible not to be a bit jumpy. Especially when he'd had so little sleep on top of a tense night and now adrenaline was pumping through him.
After what seemed like half an hour Matt finally showed up. Trev hurried over to meet him halfway. “Don't suppose you've changed your mind about going home?” he asked. “That offer to ride down with me is still on the table.”
Matt gave him a patient look. “I've already made my choice. Besides, I'm not ditching my car even if I don't ever use it.”
Trev wasn't surprised his friend was sticking to his guns. Speaking of which . . . he pulled out Nelson's 9mm, ignoring the way Matt jumped in alarm at the sight of it, and offered it grip-first, careful not to muzzle himself as he did so.
His friend's dark brown eyes stared at the weapon cautiously, but he didn't reach out to take it. “What is this?”
“This is a Glock 17,”
Trev answered evenly. “It belonged to Nelson DeWitt, who just tried to rob me with it.”
“What?” Matt demanded in shock. He started looking around frantically. “Are you okay? Where is he? What did you do to him? Have you called the police?”
“I kicked him in the stomach hard enough to make him rethink his life choices. He's probably whimpering in a corner somewhere. I didn't call the police about it because they already have enough to deal with and I didn't want to waste any more time up here. Although I suppose you could spread word around the dorm about what he did in case he tries to rob someone else.” Trev shook the gun slightly. “Come on, I'd feel better knowing you had this in case you need to protect yourself.”
His friend still wouldn't take the gun. “Is it loaded?”
Trev started to answer, then hesitated. He'd only assumed there wasn't a chamber in the round. Flipping it back around to hold pointed at the pavement, he ejected the magazine and quickly did a mag and chamber check. To his relief there wasn't a chamber in the round, which would've made his heroics against Nelson much more horrifying after the fact. He offered the gun and the full magazine separately to his friend. “Nope. Come on, man, don't act like it's made of acid. You've gone to the range with me and Lewis plenty of times to shoot, and with your dad too.”
“I know,” Matt said, abruptly taking the gun and mag and shoving them into different pockets, staring down at them as if wondering how they'd got there. “It's just that having a gun down in a small place like Aspen Hill feels different than carrying one around the university dorm.”
They stood awkwardly for a few seconds, then Trev offered his hand to shake again. “Well, Lewis is climbing the walls waiting for me to get down there. He had to listen to my entire standoff with Nelson. Take care and be safe, man. Hopefully I'll see you soon.”