A lesson in looting

“Wow, this section of street is pretty fucked up.” Anton comments as we pass through.

“When is the last time you saw a place that wasn’t?” I ask him.

“Hold on.” Alyona orders us. “Stop.”

“What is it?” I ask her.

“Look!” She cries out, and pulls me by my sleeve towards a crashed car, a few bodies sprawled about around it. She rushes over to one of them, a man wearing a sheepskin coat.

“I’m in love!” She tells us, and starts stripping it from him. “I have to have this!”

“What are you doing?” I ask her.

“Looting.”

“Isn’t that wrong?”

“Don’t be so naive. He doesn’t need it anymore. He’s dead.” She argues, managing to pull it off. “Besides, look how warm it looks!”

“Come on.” She tells me. “Don’t be a baby. We’re alive, we need it more than they do. Besides, some other asshole would probably come steal it anyways.”

“Okay.” I say reluctantly.

“These guys must have been new in the city.” Anton comments. “They all have winter gear.”

“It’s getting cold.” Alyona tells me, putting on her new coat. “Why don’t you go check that hat out?”

I cautiously approach one of the bodies and pick up an ushanka from the ground next to it.

“Looks clean, at least.” I comment.

“Try it on.” She urges me.

I sit on the ground, take off my helmet and put the hat on my head.

“How does it feel?” She asks, picking up another ushanka from a different body.

“Good enough.” I tell her, and put my helmet back on over the top of it.

“I’m proud of you.” She tells me. “You’re learning.”

“Hey.” Anton says. “Check this out.”

“What?” I ask.

“This.” He says, holding up a Tokarev pistol.

“Nice find.” I tell him.

“That’s the spirit!” Alyona says and gives me a jab in the arm.

“Do you want it?” Anton asks.

“Okay.”

“Here.” He says, handing it over. I take it from him, and he starts to strip the holster from its previous owner. I take a minute to look it over, and cautiously pull the slide back.

“This idiot wasn’t even carrying one in the chamber!” I tell Anton, then pull the slide back all the way and let it snap forwards.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asks me.

“What do you mean?”

“These things are notorious!” He tells me. “You don’t want to keep it chambered, unless you want to put a hole in yourself the first time you trip or bump into something!”

“Fuck, okay!”

“Unload that fucking thing, okay?”

“Alright, alright!” I agree, dropping the magazine and pulling the slide back again.

“Good.” He says, handing the holster over. “You can keep it loaded, just don’t cock it until you’re ready to use it, understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. I’d hate to see you shoot yourself with it.” He tells me with a pat on the shoulder. “Let’s pack all this up. We’ve wasted enough time.”