When the Devil Dances

The east wall had three large blue barrels, each apparently filled with solvent. Wendy was just about ready to plunk the weapon in the one marked “Warning: High Molar Acid.” But since she didn’t know what the O’Neals used it for, she was still of two minds.

The north wall, towards the mountain, had a few gun racks and a large, heavy steel door with a numeric keypad in the center and a lever handle. It looked like the door to a safe.

In the center was a large table, with various cleaning supplies under it and six barstools. It was around this that Elgars, Wendy, Cally, Kelly and Shakeela had grouped. Billy had started to come with them and then decided to beat feet.

“What do you mean?” Cally asked.

“Well… you’re friggin’ gorgeous. I’m surprised you don’t have fifteen boyfriends hanging around. I did when I was your age and I wasn’t nearly as good looking.”

Elgars set down the disassembled trigger mechanism and picked up a corroded spring. “What’s a boyfriend?”

Cally laughed. “Good question. There aren’t any families left in the Gap; they all moved out because of the Posleen being right over the ridge. So there aren’t any boys around to have as boyfriends. And… well, given who my daddy and granddaddy are, I’m not impressed with the quality of the soldiers. And they’re all too old for me. And only interested in one thing.”

“Yeah, let me write the book about that one,” Wendy said with a laugh. “Fortunately I have a magic charm to use on them. All I do is show them a picture of my boyfriend and they tend to leave me alone. And I can deal with the ones that don’t.”

“Oh, they’re not so much trouble these days,” Cally said with a shrug. “Not since I shot the 103^rd Division sergeant major.”

“You’re joking,” Wendy coughed, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Nope,” the thirteen-year-old said with a grin. “That’s when I switched from a Walther to the H K. We were in town and this fat old soldier followed me around until he cornered me in the hardware store. He wouldn’t take no for an answer so I pulled out the Walther and put a round through his kneecap. That got his attention.

“They initially tried to charge me as a juvenile with intended murder. Then I got the grand jury to go out to the range with me. They dropped the charges — the foreman noted that if I was attempting murder the sergeant major would be… how did he put it? ‘pushing up privet hedge’ — and charged him with attempted rape instead. I understand he’s limping around a prison to this day. Since then, and since Pappy quit letting most people come over to the farm, there haven’t been any problems.”

“Why’d you switch?” Elgars asked. “Guns I mean.”

“Ah, they were holding the Walther as evidence,” Cally answered with a shrug. “And my hands had finally gotten big enough for the H K. Besides, that bitty little 7.62 just made a neat little hole in his knee. If I’d had the H K it would have blown the back right out of the sucker. I really regretted that when I was in juvie hall; anybody tried to cop a feel on me I want to see bits of bone on the floor. I swore I’d never use a damned little 7.62 to shoot somebody again.”

Elgars chuckled and then shook her head as the spring in her hands snapped. “I don’t think we can fix this, Wendy.”

“I think you’re right,” Wendy said with a sigh, putting aside the barrel. “This really pisses me off; it was a present from my boyfriend.”

“Well, I can’t fix your present,” Cally said with a shrug, holding the separated grenade breech up to the light and turning it back and forth. “Not quickly anyway. I think I could remachine all the action parts, even the ones for the grenade launcher which are a stone bitch. But the electronics are shot and I’m doubtful about this breech. I could probably make one of those with a few days work, but really, Wendy, I think it needs to be cannibalized for parts rather than used. Whatever you ended up with probably wouldn’t be safe or reliable.

“However, I think we can find a suitable replacement.” She walked over to the back wall, keyed in a code on the safe and opened it up. “We have a few choices in here.”

“Good God.” Wendy laughed, looking at the row on row of racked rifles that were dimly visible in the gloom. The “safe” was really a door to a large room, apparently set back into the hillside. She walked over to the door as Cally stepped through and flipped on the light switch.

“I think we probably can,” Wendy continued with another chuckle.

There were four rifle racks in the room with just about enough weapons to equip a rifle platoon. If it was a very eclectic rifle platoon.

The left-hand side was the “heavy” weapons, including at least three crewed machine guns, Barrett sniper rifles and a couple of other heavy rifles that were similar. The center double rack was devoted to rifles, both military style and hunting, while the right-hand rack was mostly submachine guns.

The back wall was pistols — Wendy was pretty sure there were over a hundred — and a large variety of knives.