Free For Everything a Reason by Paul Cave

the weapons-dealer’s face. He was
skinny to the point of emaciated, with hollowed-out eyes that were little more
than empty craters. He had a beakish nose covered by angry red pimples, and the
slash of his mouth lay home to a paltry few intact teeth. Most were black
stumps, crooked and broken, and embedded in blackened gums that oozed rot like
the pores of the dead.
    Moses stepped away from
Perkins, his sly eyes finally satisfied with their inspection. “Nah, you’re no
cop. Not even a real cop smells like an actual pig.”
    Moses returned to the other
side of the table. He spread his arms wide as if ready to engage in a bit of
holy preaching. “So, what can I get you?” he asked, crooked teeth and blackened
gums visible.
    Presley moved to the table and scanned
its contents. An elaborate assortment of weapons lay there, some shiny and new,
other pitted and scarred, a few quite possibly genuine relics from battles
past. Handguns covered one side of the table entirely, Magnums, Smith and
Wessons, Colts, and designs he couldn’t identify. Knowing that his limited
amount of cash would not afford him a rifle or mini-machine gun, Presley paid
particular attention to the lower end of the arsenal.
    “How much you got?” Moses
asked, rubbing his hands together.
    Presley showed him.
    Moses sighed. “Not gonna get
you much.”
    “Then what will it get me?”
Perkins asked.
    Moses scratched at his pointy
chin for a second with dirty fingernails. His spider-like hand reached out to
take a small handgun from the table. He held it up, barely able to contain his
humour. “What about this one?”
    “What the hell’s that?” Perkins
asked.
    Between Moses’ thumb and
forefinger hung possibly the smallest weapon he had ever seen. It was comprised
of two very short barrels and a handgrip that would have been smothered in a
child’s grasp.
    “Is this a joke?” Perkins
asked.
    “What?” Moses mocked.
    “There has to be something
better than that?”
    Moses cocked the pistol and the
small hammer clicked back. “Do you know what this is?”
    “A fuckin’ ladies gun, that’s
what,” Perkins cursed.
    “True,” Moses agreed. “But for
fifty bucks, you ain’t gonna get anything bigger.”
    “Yeah?” Perkins said. “I could
get the whole lady for less.”
    Moses nodded. “Yeah, maybe, but
she ain’t gonna save your hide like this baby can.”
    “What. That?”
    Moses smiled his rancid smile.
“This is a DA 38 Double Action Derringer. The World’s smallest and lightest
.357 Magnum.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah.”
    “How many shots it hold?”
Perkins asked.
    “Two.”
    “Two? What the hell am I
supposed to do with just two shots?”
    “Hit your target the first
time,” Moses elaborated.
    “Jeez.”
    The compact gun disappeared
inside Moses’ hand. “Look, if you can find something better, somewhere else?”
    “No – no. I’ll take it. What
other option do I have?”
    Moses shrugged.
    “Okay, how much?” Perkins
asked.
    “How much you got exactly?”
    Perkins spread his money out on
the table. It took just a few moments to count it out. “Fifty-two bucks.”
    Moses scrunched up one side of
his face. “Sorry, Pal. This baby costs fifty-three bucks at least.”
    “What?”
    “Yeah, she’s a real nice piece.
Can’t just give her away.
    Presley stood there and soaked
up the indignity of his situation like an obedient child.
    “Okay,” Moses began, “I got us
a solution.”
    “What?” Perkins asked.
    The weapons-dealer clicked the
small loader open and, with dirty fingers, retracted both bullets. “Okay, you
can take the pistol, but the shots’ll cost you another buck.” He placed the two
surprisingly large-looking casings on the table.
    “This is stupid,” Perkins
stated. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
    Timothy spoke from behind. “You
could use it to pistol-whip someone.”
    Moses laughed louder, now
unable to contain himself. “Yeah, you could use it for that. Or, you