the simple trap: 3

They slept through the next morning. There was no breakfast waiting for him when Karl rolled himself off the couch, and pulled his hoodie back on. He felt horrible.
Cory clanged through the front door, having heard Karl get up and yawn.
"Morning sunshine," he said.
Karl just looked up at him through his internal morning fog with squinty eyes.
“Look,” said Darryl, still lying on his sleeping bag, “There was one thing especially I was wondering about. You still got any guns? Because you don’t got enough trigger fingers here. The last time I was up, you had six semi automatic weapons or more. You didn’t sell them all did you?”
"Christ, man, where you just asleep?" said Cory. Karl was wondering the same thing.
"No, I've been awake for some time now. I figured I would take the time to think things through. And the gun question came to mind. I meant to ask you last night."
“I got them guns still, man. In fact, if Lena will get off her ass for a second, I’d show you where they were. You might need ‘em sooner than you think, and you’re right, I got more guns than bodies,” Cory said, moving towards the couch.
Lena shifted off the couch, and Cory laid his hand on one end of the back of the couch. “Mind giving me a hand,” he said.
Karl was standing, wondering whether they had any coffee. Vain hope. Cory was motioning him to help, so he moved to the other side, and said, “What exactly you want me to do? Sliding it forward?”
Cory demonstrated that he was going to tilt the couch forward. When they lifted it off the ground, Karl realized the front legs where hinged to the floor, and the pea green carpet had been torn out from underneath the couch. The bare plywood underneath was also hinged. Cory knelt and stuck a stubby finger in the hole. When he opened it up, a moth fluttered out. Karl flinched.
The hole opened up in the floor, making it seem to Karl like the whole trailer had been torn apart, with the couch, and the trap door tilted at crazy angles. It struck him how fragile the trailer was.
Cory started pulling out guns, stacking them against the underside of his couch. Karl stood there, staring at the fluffy little bags of spider eggs attached to the corners of the underside of the couch, watching the armory pile grow.
“So which one you want, man?” asked Cory. He was looking over his shoulder at Karl.
“Which one is easy to use?” asked Karl, keeping the hesitation out of his voice.
“Well, none of ‘em really. Cause none of ‘em are exactly military grade. I got most of these from local pawn shops. They had to sort of follow the law, so I got only one fully automatic, the rest are semi. So it doesn’t really matter, just pick what looks nice.”
“I don’t know. I’m choosing the gun that’s gonna kill me. I don’t know.” Karl said.
“Pistol then? May I cordially recommend the Sig Sauer 9 millimeter, compact edition?” Cory’s scorn rang off the plywood. He had done a good job of impersonating Karl’s light southern accent.
As Cory handed Karl the gun from the pile, he had a hard time moving his hand to accept it. He felt like it was going to snap on him somehow, bite him. He couldn’t shake the feeling. Then he composed himself, and wrapped his hand smoothly around the grip.
“Sure, man, sure. Got an extra clip?” said Karl, bravely.
“In case of extra bad guys?” said Cory.
“All right, never mind. It’s cool.”
“Just ribbing ya. They’re over in my bedroom, with all the ammunition, if I can find the goddamn lock.”
“You got a lot of experience shootin’ folks?” Cory was looking at Darryl.
“No, not really,” said Darryl.
“Well, that’s a shame, could use some old vet or something.”
“Nope, I was a gardener, not a fighter,” Darryl said.
“But you have seen some fighting, sure, right?”
“Well, yeah, I guess,” said Darryl. Karl marveled at how coolheaded Darryl could be. Only a bead of sweat belied the real story. Maybe it was time to shake him up.
“I saw him shoot a man once,” said Karl. He watched Darryl out of the corner of his eye. Darryl’s constantly anxious look didn’t change a bit.
“Awesome. Did he kill him?”
“Hell no,” spit Karl. He could see the muscles in Darryl’s jaw clench. Success.