16) Salad Daze

The table with all the guns turned out to be mounted on wheels so they were able to push the whole thing outside instead of just letting me get my hands on my Boom Stick.

At least not until we got out there with it. “Come on, Ulysses wants his Ithaca.” The young woman who had pushed out the table and checked my shotgun to ensure it wasn’t loaded gave me an odd look. I guess she wasn’t a fan of ancient Greek poems.

Kids these days.

I reached out and took it from her hands, for something that looked more like a toy than a real gun, but it at least had some real weight to it.

Droopy face reached out to take it away from me and smiled as I held on to it. "I need to show you how to load it, Mister… Light?"

I nodded rather than correct him and handed the gun over, while he still looked pretty out of it, his hands seemed sure as he slid back the pump part, peaked to check on something inside it, and began loading it up with the green shotgun shells one by one.

"This is the safety, and this is where the buckshot comes out, don't point it at anyone you don't want to kill.” Then he handed it over to me.

Seemed simple enough.

Breadly got a shotgun that was bigger and loaded up with red shells. Which seemed unfair.

Then the girl led us over to where a stack of old plastic trash cans filled up with cardboard sat inside a cinder block enclosure meant to house a dumpster behind the nearby abandoned gas station. The cans had been covered with a faded threadbare yellow sheet with a red bullseye spray painted on it.

Bread boy held his hand out toward the target. “Go ahead and shoot first Harold.”

I knew enough to flip the safety off and to cock the shotgun. What I didn’t know how was how much it hurt to shoot the damned thing.

Even with the handle part braced up against my shoulder, it still sent me stumbling back and falling over on my ass. The girl yanked the shotgun out of my hands even before I went over rather than try to stop me from going ass over teakettles.

Dammit woman. The shotgun would have been fine, what if I broke a hip?

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

And it just had to be the same shoulder I had hurt a few days ago that I landed on.

Bread bent over with a groan as he grabbed me by the arm I had just hurt and tried to pull me to my feet. “Ow! Let go of me you stupid son of a bitch!”

Wilyna was suddenly between us, growling at the big oaf as he backed away looking horrified, and the sound of my gun getting cocked came from the girl.

The coyote backed into me while still growling at Bread in a low tone, and I put an arm slowly around her while looking up at the girl in uniform with the shotgun aimed at the mother coyote.

“Miss, I’m pretty sure you would hit me with Wilyna this close, and I can heal a coyote bite on Dumb Ass a lot easier than the old woman can heal me from a close range gunshot. So maybe settle down."

She gave me a slow glance, then lifted the working end of the shotgun into the air as she took a step back. “You have to brace your whole body when you shoot. Not just your shoulder.”

I slowly nodded. Yeah, I picked up on that. But I kept the snark to myself since she was still armed.

Instead, I petted Wilyna on the head as Blue crawled up on my lap and Chubby whimpered from somewhere nearby. Reaching up with my good arm I set my hand over the other shoulder and let some warmth flow into it.

I should have brought more food.

Bread tried to apologize, but I just ignored him until the pain went away. Mostly. At which point my stomach growled and his face lit up as he began pulling little plastic containers out of nowhere. “We should all eat before we go in. The salad will help.”

The girl helped me up, by my good arm, and we returned to the tent where everyone other than Whole Wheat had opened up what looked like a salad but had sliced up eggs, which I had heard of on a salad, along with some deep red slimy beets which just seemed wrong.

Bread set down a glass bottle with a thin red fluid with floating bits in it. “Raspberry vinaigrette. I made it myself.”

I stared at him until he looked as uncomfortable as I felt about the fake salad dressing. I limited myself to a simple. “Great.”

I tilted the container back and forth as I glared at the so called food as everyone else was finishing up their rabbit food with pleased looks on their faces, transparent gray squares appeared in front of them. No lettering, but all the squares that always appeared behind the letters were visible to me from where they were floating in front of them.

Looking around the tent, I could see by their eyes that everyone, not just the old people with classes, could see the squares.

Hiram the old skinny fart with the fake teeth looked over at me. “You need someone to spoon feed ya Harry, I think Suzanna is kind of sweet on ya.”

The little redhead who had taken my gun gave him a dirty look.

“No. I’m just waiting for my shoulder to stop hurting enough to lift a fork.”

The little redhead leaned forward. “Do you need a medic sir?”

I gave her a look bad enough to make her flinch back. “I ain’t bleeding or dying, just bruised. Leave me alone.”

Beryl snorted then called her over and had a word with her. I wasn’t listening since I was moving my shoulder around and wincing. There was sharp pain when I lifted my arm above my shoulder and a dull one when I didn’t, or in other words, it was back to normal.

Reaching into the plastic tub which Brad had opened up for me, I grabbed a pinch of greens, sliced up egg, and some kind of off colored shredded cheese and stuffed it into my mouth.

Not bad, which for healthy food meant it didn’t taste good, just not bad, which I had learned is what I had to settle for these days.

Beryl sighed while Brad looked horrified since I didn't bother with his raspberry bullshit or a fork. Hiram laughed.

After finishing the last bit of what I thought was spinach, a gray box popped up in front of me.

[ You have finished Brad’s Geriatric Fortification Salad ]

[ Your conditions penalties are reduced by 1 for the next hour ]

“Dam Brad, I guess you aren't useless after all.”

The big man began to sputter until Beryl set her hand on his arm.

I smiled. This time, seeing her do that didn’t hurt at all. Now it was more like the ref declaring that I had scored a point.