Chapter 4: Chapter 4

As he approached the front door of the building, he wondered if he should turn around and go home. Taking a deep breath, he decided he had to do this, for Max’s sake.

“Can I help you?” the man standing behind one of the display cases asked when Jack approached him. He was, Jack thought, in his late thirties—tall, with very short dark hair, and not bad looking.

“I…I hope so. I need a gun.”

The man smiled. “Then you’ve come to the right place. What kind?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Okay. Let’s start at the beginning. Have you ever shot a gun? Why do think you want one? For self-defense?”

“No, and yes.”

Grinning, the man said, “I take it you mean no, you’ve never used one and yes it’s for self-defense.”

Jack nodded.

The man held out his hand, saying, “I’m Deacon Young. I own this place. And you are?”

“Jack. Jack Willis.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen. Does it matter?”

“Not at all.” Deacon studied him for a moment. “Why are you worried about having to defend yourself?”