For hours I watched Six meticulously clean each piece of the arsenal he picked up. Boxes of bullets emptied, pushed one by one into a clip for backup.
He had a shoulder holster, and as soon as two guns were ready, he strapped them in, setting it aside. What looked like a smaller pistol was slipped into some other type of holster and set next to the other one. That left one more along with half a dozen full clips and at least two knives.
“Are you going into battle?” I asked, completely enthralled and totally terrified.
He stopped and glanced at me. “Preparing for as much as I can.”
Preparing.
I continued to watch him and realized that it was for that rarity he talked about—a firefight. If there was, what would happen to me? Caught in the middle, nowhere to go and no way to defend mysel
