Ghost Hold: The PSS Chronicles Book 2

Chapter 2, Welcome to the Warren Gun Club

Shotgun's eyes went wide, and he used the end of his gun to move the edge of Marcus's shirt aside. Then he gave a low whistle and a smile blossomed across his face. "I'll be damned," he said, his eyes gleaming like he'd just met his favorite celebrity. "It's true."

The other two good-old-boys stepped forward, also exclaiming and staring at Marcus's chest, and for a minute it looked a little like a close encounter in a gay bar. But the guns were all down and the smiles were up, so I took my foot off the gas and let the van's engine ease back to idle.

Jason looked at me, a question in his eyes.

"I guess they like his chest," I said, pulling the keys from the ignition.

"Anne," Marcus called, looking at me over his shoulder as he buttoned his shirt back up. "Get everyone out here."

Obviously, we were playing our new aliases starting now, even if he wasn't.

"Remember who you are," I said softly to the van in general. I nodded at Yale, and he opened the side door as Jason and I piled out of the front.

I marched over to Marcus, mightily resisting the urge to smack him in the back of the head.

"This is our group," Marcus said, introducing us to the country boys with a wave of his hand. "We all need to be trained and armed."

"You got it," Shotgun said, looking us over. His eyes stopped on Jason's hunting rifle and he said, "Nice Marlin. You know how to use it?"

"Yeah, I know how to use it," Jason said, jutting out his chin.

"Okay then," Shotgun said, "Let's get you all to the shooting range, and see what you can do." He turned, waving us toward the long building, and we began to follow.

Nose, Jason and Passion were ahead of me, traipsing behind Shotgun and his buddies, but when I looked behind me, Yale and Marcus were still back by the van, staring each other down.

I stopped, not sure if I should leave them alone or try to intervene.

"I'm not doing this," Yale hissed, glaring at Marcus, his face flushed with anger. I'd never seen Yale angry. He was a laid-back guy, but he also had a major thing against guns.

"I understand," Marcus said calmly. "You don't have to. You can wait out here. It's your choice."

Shotgun and the others had reached the door of the shooting range and were going inside. I saw Passion glance back at us and hesitate, but I waved her on.

"Damn right it is," Yale snapped, "and if you're seriously going to arm underage kids, you're a fucking idiot."

Kids? Yale was barely older than me. Yeah, he was eighteen, and I was still seventeen for another month, but I certainly wasn't a kid. At sixteen, Jason was the youngest of us and probably the least kiddish of anyone I'd ever met.

"You saw what happened in Greenfield," Marcus said to Yale. "Besides, we've been armed ever since we stole the hunting rifles. How is this any different?"

"We snagged those rifles so we wouldn't get shot leaving the game reserve," Yale argued. "And the same with Mike Palmer's gun. If Nose hadn't grabbed it after he shot you, Palmer would have shot us all. Those were defensive moves. But this—" he gestured at the farm and the gun club buildings. "This is completely offensive. You're gearing up your own little militia, and you know it."

"This is about self-defense," Marcus said. "No one is going to shoot anyone unless they try to shoot us first."

"Having guns automatically escalates it to that level," Yale said, throwing his hands up in frustration.