Don't Get Dead | TWD | Volume 1

[13] I'm a Goner

I turned my music off somewhere between College Park and Union City. There were a few signs when we turned onto the motorway reading 85, which was the direction Rick suggested the night before. I decided to get my book out, a last-ditch effort to waste some time.

Shane, who still had me trapped in the booth, was now cleaning a gun on the table next to me. I glanced over occasionally to see what he was doing, but I tried to ignore it as best I could by reading.

Andrea was much more interested than I was. Her head fell into her hand as she stared at the weapon in fascination. It's like she's never seen a gun before.

"Looks complicated."

"The trick is getting all the pieces back together the same way," Shane stated.

No shit.

I scoffed, playing it off as if something had happened in the book. No way do all the pieces have to go back together the same way. I could have said the same thing about a car, but I didn't think I'd have to point out something so obvious.

Shane glanced at me but then down at the gun, seemingly ignoring my obvious disappointment with his so-called advice. He turned his head back to look at Andrea and said, "I could clean yours, show you how?"

Andrea nodded, pulling her bag into her lap and rummaging around until she pulled out a silver handgun . . . I don't know. I'm a mechanic, not a gunsmith. She handed the gun to Shane, who twisted it around in his hands and flipped it over, admiring it.

"Oh yeah," he aimed the gun down towards the back of the RV, testing the sight. "It's a sweet piece."

"It was a gift from my father," she told him, her face growing sorrowful as she looked at the gun. "He gave it to me just before Amy, and I took off on our road trip. He said 'two girls on their own should be able to defend themselves'."

"Smart man, your father."

I couldn't help but feel bad for Andrea; she was alone now, away from her family. Not only that but with what happened to Amy, she must be devastated, bringing up the memory of starting the road trip. Amy once told me they came all the way from Florida and only made it to Atlanta when the dead started walking.

Shane's gaze returned to the gun. "It's a . . . it's a limiting capacity, see? Only holds seven rounds—still, it's something. If you wanna learn to clean it, use it properly, I'll teach you."

"Okay," Andrea nodded her head in agreement.

I was shocked when Shane then turned to me. "What about you, Ace? You wanna learn about guns? I can teach you to shoot if you'd like when we get settled somewhere."

"Not really."

Yes, I enjoyed learning different things; Shane probably picked up on that when he showed me how to modify the radio. But, I didn't understand the fascination with shooting. It seemed like everyone in America either wanted to shoot or knew how.

I wondered whether learning would be a good idea, but I thought against it. It was too loud to practise anymore, for a start, and I was never really in a situation where I needed to be the one aiming a gun.

"You sure?" He raised an eyebrow. "Might be useful."

I was going to give him the same answer, but Dale interrupted me. "Aw, jeez."

We both turned to the front of the caravan, twisting around in the booth to see out the window. When Shane stood up, I took the opportunity to free myself from the booth. I stood next to Glenn, who was sitting in the passenger chair, and I was finally able to see the problem.