“Is that going to be necessary?”
“I don’t know,” he admits, “but I’m going to have it with me in case it is.”
“How did you know to do all this?” I wave my hand in the direction of the footlockers lining Falk’s bedroom. “I mean, why did you collect all of this?”
“In case of a zombie apocalypse.” Falk gives me a wry smile, and I just stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s joking or not. He stops. “I just like to be prepared for anything. It could be a storm that takes out the electricity for days, the country getting attacked, or some natural disaster. It’s good to have certain things on hand. Honestly, I never expected to need any of it.”
“You have a big collection of guns.”
“It’s not a collection.”
I look to the lineup of rifles on the closet wall and raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah, it is.”
“It isn’t. It’s just enough.”
“If I could get to the internet right now, I’d be looking up the definition of the word collection just to prove my point.”
He eyes me for a minute.
“Do you know how to use one?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ve never even held one.”
“I can teach you.”
I look at him sideways, trying to decide if he’s being serious or not. There’s nothing in his expression to indicate that he’s joking.
“Do you think that’s necessary?”
“Don’t you?”
He is serious. I can’t imagine myself holding a gun, let alone firing it. The idea of aiming at some living thing and firing a gun is completely incomprehensible.
“I really don’t think I could do that.”
Falk takes one of the handguns out of its holster, holds it pointed toward the ceiling, and pulls the clip out of the handle. He pulls back on the top of it, dropping a bullet into his palm, and then looks inside the chamber before holding the weapon out to me.
I take the heavy, metal object in my hand, holding it loosely.
“Don’t put your finger on the trigger,” Falk says.
“I thought you unloaded it.”
“I did,” he says, “but only put your finger on the trigger if you intend to fire it.”
He shows me how to place my finger along the body of the gun, right above the trigger. I hold the weapon for a moment before handing it back.
“Not so bad, is it?” he says.
“It’s heavy,” I respond. “I still don’t think I could use one.”
“What if you had been armed when those men came for you?” Falk asks quietly. “What if you had been able to protect yourself?”
“I don’t know…” My voice cracks. I can’t think about this. I won’t. I do anyway. “Maybe they would have killed me.”
“They were going to kill you when they were done regardless. If you had been armed,