[25] Gun show

The group gathered around the kitchen table, barely awake and rubbing sleep from their eyes, when Morgan strode in, arms crossed and a faint smirk on her face.

"You lot, with me," she said, her voice cutting through the morning haze. She turned on her heel, not waiting to see if they were following.

Jean and the others exchanged glances, shrugging before filing out of the kitchen and trailing her down a narrow hallway. She led them to a side door that opened into a surprisingly spacious garage. Inside, along the back wall, was a large rack lined with an arsenal of guns—rifles, shotguns, handguns, everything they'd only ever seen in movies or games.

"Bruh," Lucas whispered, eyes wide as he took in the collection. "Are we in a real-life Call of Duty lobby right now?"

Morgan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised as she watched their reactions. "Better to be prepared than dead," she said simply, her tone nonchalant.

Jean's face lit up like a kid at Christmas, his eyes darting over the wall of weapons. "No way… is that an M4 Carbine?" He stepped closer, practically bouncing on his heels as he spotted a sleek rifle on the upper rack.

Morgan's eyebrow arched a bit higher, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Good eye, kid."

Jean didn't hold back, moving along the rack as he pointed to each gun he recognized, his voice brimming with excitement. "And that's a Glock 19… over there's an FN SCAR… is that a classic Colt Python?" His voice trailed off in awe as he took it all in, his fingers itching to reach out and handle them.

Chloe rolled her eyes, leaning back with an unimpressed look. "It's just a bunch of guns, Jean. Chill. Acting like you've never seen a firearm in your life."

Jordan, however, was grinning, nudging Lucas with his elbow. "Nah, fam, this is some peak survival loot right here. We're literally armed to the teeth."

Ethan nodded, though he looked a little nervous. "Yeah, but… anyone here actually know how to use one of these IRL? I'm not trying to end up as, like, zombie chow 'cause I didn't know where the safety was."

Morgan chuckled, her arms still crossed, as she regarded them. "These aren't toys," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Mess around, and you're out."

Jean nodded seriously, his gaze shifting to her. "We get it, Morgan. We're not gonna mess around. Just… knowing we have these could be a huge edge."

Morgan studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable, before giving him a small nod. "Pick one each. Something you can handle. Don't go grabbing the biggest thing on the wall if you don't know how to use it."

The group exchanged excited looks, each of them approaching the rack with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

Jean reached for the Glock 19 with almost reverent care, gripping the handle and feeling the weight in his hands. He turned to Morgan, who was watching him with a faint smirk. "I'm not gonna let you down. Promise."

Morgan shrugged. "See that you don't."

Lucas was next, his eyes lighting up as he grabbed a shotgun from the rack, his hands shaking slightly. "Yo, check it out," he said, grinning as he showed it off. "About to be zombie-slaying royalty out here."

"Yeah, until you drop it on your foot," Jordan quipped, though he looked just as excited as he reached for a compact rifle. He turned to Jean with a smirk. "Just wait, man. I'm about to be the GOAT out here."

Chloe stood back, arms crossed, watching them with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Right, because this is a game," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'll take my chances with a baseball bat."

Morgan stepped forward, placing a hand on Chloe's shoulder and giving her a pointed look. "You think a bat's gonna save you when things go sideways?"

Chloe shrugged, though her bravado wavered under Morgan's stare. "Fine, whatever," she muttered, reluctantly reaching for a smaller pistol. "Not like I asked for this, but… might as well not be defenseless."

Brittney, who had been watching with her typical air of disinterest, finally moved forward and picked up a handgun. "This better go viral if we survive this," she muttered, inspecting the gun with a raised eyebrow. "Seriously, the views would be insane."

Morgan chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Can't imagine TikTok's too worried about zombie content these days."

Tyler, picking up a rifle and feeling the weight of it, smirked, pretending to cock it with dramatic flair. "Hell yeah. Finally, a chance to flex some alpha energy."

Blake, still a bit shaken from the events of the night before, looked over at Morgan cautiously. "Are you… sure about this?" He picked up a small pistol, holding it gingerly. "I mean, I'm all for defense, but… I don't know."

Morgan gave him a dry look, lighting a cigarette as she leaned against the wall. "Either learn to use it, or stay behind when things get tough. Up to you."

Blake swallowed, nodding as he adjusted his grip on the gun, trying to look more comfortable than he felt.

Ms. Heather, who had been standing by silently, watching the teens with a worried expression, finally spoke up. "Thank you for sharing these with us, Morgan," she said, her voice sincere. "I… didn't expect this, but I think it's what we need."

Morgan nodded, taking a drag of her cigarette. "You're welcome. Just don't make me regret it."

Jean, holding the Glock close, couldn't help but glance at her with admiration. "You've really got everything, don't you?"

Morgan just gave him a look, one corner of her mouth twitching upward. "More than you think, kid." She took another drag, blowing out a steady stream of smoke as she watched them, clearly weighing each of them with a mix of skepticism and grudging respect. "If you're smart, you'll know when to use what you picked—and when not to. 'Cause the last thing I need is you idiots shooting each other by accident."

They nodded, her words sobering them up quickly. Each of them took a moment to study their chosen weapon, the weight of the situation settling in. It was one thing to talk about fighting zombies, but holding a weapon—knowing they'd need to use it—made it all terrifyingly real.

Lucas, trying to break the tension, nudged Jean with a grin. "So, we ready to go full John Wick on these undead or what?"

Jean smirked, shaking his head. "Let's just hope we don't need to." He glanced at Morgan, who was watching them with a small, almost hidden smile.

"You got a plan?" he asked her, his voice a mix of hope and respect.

Morgan nodded, taking one last drag of her cigarette before stubbing it out. "Yeah. You stay alive. And try not to lose your heads."

Q: What is your dream gun?