"Supplies"

We went into another Pawn Shop today. We had the points from Georgia's death and we had to spend them. We needed food and water. And bullets.

I laid my Mauser on the counter and asked one of the club-faced men. "I need seven millimeter cartridges," I said.

"A single seven millimeter full metal jacket bullet for a Spanish Model 1893 is ten points," the club-faced man said.

"So ten bullets is a hundred points?" I asked. "That seems kind of steep."

"It is an antique gun," he said.

I looked around. There weren't that many people in the store. Blair was checking the prices on various loaves of bread. I walked over to them. "Stay in here until I return," I said. "I won't be gone more than a hour at most."

They shrugged and then, almost as an afterthought, asked, "Where are you going?"

"To get more points," I said. I walked back to the counter and the club-faced man. "I need two bullets." He handed me two bullets and I looked at them. Twenty points could mean food for the next few days. But here I had spent it on two pieces of metal whose only purpose was to make it easier to kill.

I loaded them into my Mauser and stepped outside.

It took twenty minutes to find two men fighting. I was lucky, neither one had a firearm. One was holding a long sword and the other was swinging what looked like a mace. The first man swung the mace and nearly hit the other. They were so busy, neither noticed me. Or my antique gun.

I walked back into the store ten minutes later. "Give me ten bullets," I said.