looks.
"Hey, in the past forty-eight hours, I have heard you say more bad words than I have the previous fifteen years."
That had Meredith start to laugh.
"Shut it, you two. You are worse now than when you were in my fifth grade Sunday school class. Come on. This car won't get us anywhere."
Crouched low, Carlton moved towards the front door of the ALF. The girls followed behind them. Meredith was in the rear. She scanned behind them as they quickly made it to the door.
She whispered, "Clear," when they got to the door.
Carlton looked through the windows. He could see movement inside. There were two sets of glass doors. The pair on the outside of the building were always unlocked. He popped the door open and stepped into the small foyer. It was these second doors that were locked to keep the patients inside. To the left, he could see that there were shapes moving inside. Through the door, they could hear a moaning noise.
With a quick glance to the right, he could see the alarm panel and a green light beside it. If he understood it correctly and based on his previous visits, the alarm was turned off. He slid the machete back into its sheath on his hip and rotated the strap for the short rifle on his back.
Whispering to the girls, "someone left the door alarm off. They never do that. The staff must have left in a big hurry."
Carlton carried an AR-15 with a short ten inch barrel. Screwed into the end of the barrel is a foot long suppressor. The barrel was thicker than a normal AR barrel as it was chambered for the 300 AAC Blackout round. The heavy, sub-sonic rounds it fired were some of the quietest that Carlton had ever fired. The ammo was hard to come by though. He was down to his last hundred rounds.
He checked the chamber to make sure that the weapon was loaded. He looked to the girls and saw they had armed themselves as well. Mikayla carried a baseball bat in her right hand with the barrel resting on her shoulder. In Meredith's hands was a tire iron. Both girls had pistols, but they were not suppressed. They left the pistols in their back pockets. No need to call more attention to themselves with a pistol shot if they don't need to.
Mikayla whispered, "You never did tell us where the gun with the silencer came from."
"This, my dear, is not a gun. A gun is an artillery piece of greater than fifty-caliber. This is a rifle. It does not have a silencer. It's a suppressor. There is no such thing as a silencer. You can only suppress noise not eliminate it completely."
He gave his speech as if he were correcting an intelligent student that muttered an asinine question. Both girls rolled their eyes and sighed.
"Whatever. Where did you get it, Mr. Sunday School Teacher? Were you running guns as a side job to working at the church."
He turned and looked at them with a puzzled expression. His eyebrows knit above his eyes and his brow furrowed in thought.
"I never worked for the church. I just taught Sunday School. And no, I didn't run guns for a living. I am a software developer."
"But you were at church all the time. They did not pay you?"
Carlton laughed quietly and shook his head from side to side.
"No, never was paid a dime. I did it because I really enjoyed teaching. I was studying for myself anyway. Why not share. Besides, the stuff y'all came up with was always interesting. I think I learned more from my students than I ever taught you. When you cut out all the foolish nonsense, y'all could ask some insightful questions that made me think pretty hard."
"OK, but what about the rifle?" The last word was said with great exaggeration. Mikayla wanted to say gun again, but really did not want to hear the lecture again.
"Right, well, I have hobbies. I compete in three gun competitions and I like to hunt."
The two girls stared at the back of his head, willing him to say more. When none was forthcoming, Meredith cleared her throat.
He turned back to them, "What?"
"Hunting we get. What the hell is three gun
"Hey, in the past forty-eight hours, I have heard you say more bad words than I have the previous fifteen years."
That had Meredith start to laugh.
"Shut it, you two. You are worse now than when you were in my fifth grade Sunday school class. Come on. This car won't get us anywhere."
Crouched low, Carlton moved towards the front door of the ALF. The girls followed behind them. Meredith was in the rear. She scanned behind them as they quickly made it to the door.
She whispered, "Clear," when they got to the door.
Carlton looked through the windows. He could see movement inside. There were two sets of glass doors. The pair on the outside of the building were always unlocked. He popped the door open and stepped into the small foyer. It was these second doors that were locked to keep the patients inside. To the left, he could see that there were shapes moving inside. Through the door, they could hear a moaning noise.
With a quick glance to the right, he could see the alarm panel and a green light beside it. If he understood it correctly and based on his previous visits, the alarm was turned off. He slid the machete back into its sheath on his hip and rotated the strap for the short rifle on his back.
Whispering to the girls, "someone left the door alarm off. They never do that. The staff must have left in a big hurry."
Carlton carried an AR-15 with a short ten inch barrel. Screwed into the end of the barrel is a foot long suppressor. The barrel was thicker than a normal AR barrel as it was chambered for the 300 AAC Blackout round. The heavy, sub-sonic rounds it fired were some of the quietest that Carlton had ever fired. The ammo was hard to come by though. He was down to his last hundred rounds.
He checked the chamber to make sure that the weapon was loaded. He looked to the girls and saw they had armed themselves as well. Mikayla carried a baseball bat in her right hand with the barrel resting on her shoulder. In Meredith's hands was a tire iron. Both girls had pistols, but they were not suppressed. They left the pistols in their back pockets. No need to call more attention to themselves with a pistol shot if they don't need to.
Mikayla whispered, "You never did tell us where the gun with the silencer came from."
"This, my dear, is not a gun. A gun is an artillery piece of greater than fifty-caliber. This is a rifle. It does not have a silencer. It's a suppressor. There is no such thing as a silencer. You can only suppress noise not eliminate it completely."
He gave his speech as if he were correcting an intelligent student that muttered an asinine question. Both girls rolled their eyes and sighed.
"Whatever. Where did you get it, Mr. Sunday School Teacher? Were you running guns as a side job to working at the church."
He turned and looked at them with a puzzled expression. His eyebrows knit above his eyes and his brow furrowed in thought.
"I never worked for the church. I just taught Sunday School. And no, I didn't run guns for a living. I am a software developer."
"But you were at church all the time. They did not pay you?"
Carlton laughed quietly and shook his head from side to side.
"No, never was paid a dime. I did it because I really enjoyed teaching. I was studying for myself anyway. Why not share. Besides, the stuff y'all came up with was always interesting. I think I learned more from my students than I ever taught you. When you cut out all the foolish nonsense, y'all could ask some insightful questions that made me think pretty hard."
"OK, but what about the rifle?" The last word was said with great exaggeration. Mikayla wanted to say gun again, but really did not want to hear the lecture again.
"Right, well, I have hobbies. I compete in three gun competitions and I like to hunt."
The two girls stared at the back of his head, willing him to say more. When none was forthcoming, Meredith cleared her throat.
He turned back to them, "What?"
"Hunting we get. What the hell is three gun
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