Zombie Fighter Jango #1 The Road to Hell Is Paved With Zombies by Cedric Nye Read Free Book Online Page B

9mm,” he rushed to explain himself, as if he thought she were about to damn all 9mm weapons as worthless.
    “See, 9mm is an excellent round for all self-defense purposes. Now, when I say self-defense, what I really mean is killing a mother-fucker before they kill you.” He was on a roll now. “So what the 9mm gives you is more muzzle velocity than a .38, that’s the speed that the bullet moves at when it first comes out of here, the muzzle.” Jango pointed to the business end of a revolver in the glass case beside him.
    “Here, come over here,” he told Sonja, as he steered her over to the already broken case full of Ruger pistols. He pointed at the collection of 9mm pistols, and asked her, “Do you like any of these?”
    Sonja spent a good twenty-five minutes handling each pistol . She carefully weighed them, one by one, in her hand , to get a feel for them. She didn’t have any experience with firearms, but she had plenty of experience with many other kinds of weapons. With twenty-five years of martial arts practice behind her she knew that, ideally, a weapon should fit the person who would be using it, so she took her time to ensure that she would choose the right gun. 
    Jango watched her with rapt attention, admiring the way she took her time deciding. His patience would outlast the stars as long as he wasn’t bored. And Sonja wasn’t boring him at all. He hadn’t spent this much time around a person in a long time and he was surprised to find that he enjoyed her company.
    After twenty-five minutes or so, Sonja held up a KP95, very similar to Jango’s KP89 and said in an excited tone, “This is it!”
        The pistol she had chosen would take the same magazines as Jango’s pistol. He decided just to get her the ten-round magazines from the wall rack. When he got to the rack, he noticed the super high capacity magazines. Some held twenty rounds, and some even held thirty rounds of ammunition.
    He looked more closely at the extended magazines and scoffed. “I am NOT going to have that stupid shit hanging out of my pistol.”
    “What’s up?” Sonja asked him.
    “Ahh, well, okay,” he said to her, “You have two magazines that come with your new pistol.” Jango noticed her look of puzzlement, so he pointed out a magazine on the rack as an explanation.
    “The cartridges go in there, and then a spring feeds them into your pistol when you are shooting.” He went on, “Your two magazines hold ten rounds in each one.” He pointed to the rack. “Here are more ten-round mags, all the fifteen-round mags are…uh…gone, but over here are some that hold twenty and thirty rounds each.” He finished, pointing at the super high capacity magazines on the rack.
    “Well,” Sonja pondered, “What are you using?”
    He sighed, “The fifteen-round magazines.”
    She cracked up laughing at his discomfort, and then laughed even harder when she saw the look of consternation on his face.
    When she finally stopped laughing, she hiccoughed, and asked him, “Why not just use the bigger ones?”
    He thought about it for a moment, and then said, “They look like bullshit to me. They would be hanging out of the pistol grip, knocking into shit, and I don’t see how it can feed that well when the spring has to travel so far AND push the little thing that sits under the cartridges.”
    She accepted what he had said, and told him, “I will just use the ten-round ones then.”
    He pulled all of them off the rack and counted them. There were twelve of the ten-round magazines; one hundred and twenty rounds, not including the two mags that came with her pistol.
    Back at the ammunition counter, he showed Sonja how to load the magazines. He was patient and methodical, and never once treated her as anything but an equal.
    Sonja was busy furiously trying NOT to like Jango so much. She knew it was just her fear of being alone in a zombie-infested world, but damn, he was being so sweet and patient. And those muscles! She