Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 16

The duffel bag was a godsend.

Aside from a couple of gym shorts and hoodies, there were two additional weapons inside. One was a shotgun of the same model that I was using. There were also three boxes of twenty-five shells, totaling close to seventy-five extra shotgun shells for me to use.

There were also two boxes filled with forty 5.56 MM rounds for the rifles. Another box filled with 9 MM rounds for a handgun, but sadly, that gun was with the cop, rendering these rounds useless.

The other spare weapon was a rifle, but this was different from the one Logan carried. It was a Rock River LAR-15. My dad didn't own one, but some of his friends in the police force did. I didn't know anything much about the gun aside from how light it was and had an Aim-Point Pro scope and a double Poly-MAG (carrying thirty rounds each) already attached to it.

What was astonishing to find was the police officer's plate carrier vest inside the duffel bag. The plate carrier vest consisted of polyethylene plates--front and back--based on the label on the breastplate. Strapped in front was the first-aid pouch bag shaped like a hotdog. Recognizing it based on my dad's collection, next to it were two magazines with one filled with sixty barrier-penetrator rounds and the other with soft-tipped ammo for the AR-15, which Logan was carrying. The plate carrier took the considerable weight of the duffel bag.

There was also a big roll of the yellow crime scene tape, a black raincoat, glow sticks, a couple of baton sticks, a pack of zip-ties, earplugs, handcuffs, a water jug, three flashlights, four sets of shoulder-slings, and a flare gun.

Deep inside the duffel bag was a pouch filled with cleaner kits for the guns. I've never cleaned a gun before because usually, my dad did that, but I knew how important it was to clean them or risk jamming or degrading the weapon, which would be worse if I was out there. 

There was a first-aid kit much bigger than the pouch I had, filled with the standard ones that couldn't fit into the "hotdog-shaped" bag attached to the vest. Most of all, there were two standard law enforcement rulebooks as thick as my arm, which probably added considerable weight to the bag. I threw them out. I grabbed the slings inside the bag, attached them to the shotgun I was using, and slung it behind my back. I did the same for the LAR-15 and the spare shotgun.

I noticed that Yousef and Luke took a step back, eyeing the bag warily.

"Have you two ever seen a gun?" I asked, half-joking, but the way they shook their head told me they weren't kidding.

"My mom and dad are pacifists," said Yousef, smiling sheepishly.

"Both my parents are accountants," said Luke. "We may live in Fort Wayne, but I never touched a gun before."

"As long as you don't pull the trigger, it won't bite," I chuckled. It put Luke and Yousef enough at ease that they began to step toward the bag again.

"The cop's packing some heat," Luke said.

"Standard-issued Tactical Gear. All big city cops are required to have these on the back of their trunks in case of more significant threats than an ordinary mugging or burglaries."

"Like terrorism," Yousef added.

"Precisely. It came after the San Jose bank heist, 9/11, and the Boston Bombings. It's better to be overdressed than outgunned. Lucky for us, the cop won't be using it."

I walked over to Logan and gave him the last sling to attach to his rifle. He didn't say a thank you, and I didn't wait for one. I walked back to the duffel bag.

Joe joined us. He whistled once he saw the contents inside the bag.

"Want help with that?" He asked. He grabbed one of the shotguns and checked the chamber. He then proceeded to put shells inside the loading port in successive fashion. Luke and Yousef's eyes widened.