Tension is a mysterious thing. It can crop up at the most unwanted time, or at the greatest inconvenience to people around them. In this case, what happened in the group was both at the same time.
Jack and Duncan weren't exactly meshing together well, more like falling in hate with each other. Frequent slaggings were being exchanged between themself at any possible moment at which it suited them. When I had woken everyone up by less violent methods than a gun, I was about to speak when, dozily, Jack awoke and shouted: "Oh, for God sake, Duncan, you smell worse than usual! That's an all time low." I scowled at Jack, angry that he had burst my bubble in the infant stages, and just as I began take two, Duncan retorted: "Is it me, or are zombies attracted to your Quaver-like ears?" I started shouting at the very limit of my voice to silence the both of them.
Once I had finished, all hell broke loose. Jack squared up to Duncan, and pushed him, sending him flying over his bed. Duncan, in return, grabbed an M1911 and loaded it. I decided to put an end to this by means of a 'ye olde duel'. I organised it, and I simply had to make sure that it wouldn't end before it all begun for one person.
I had to find some sort of dueling pistol, so that it would be more realistic to the eye. To be honest, I was only looking to emulate the old-fashioned style of dueling via smooth-bore flintlock pistols, rather than the spiral-barrelled modern breech-loaded pistols of today. I headed straight for the headmaster's office, confident that his stupidity would gift us two flintlock pistols. I crashed through the door, only to be greeted by his zombified self, standing solo. In a state of panic, I roundhoused him in the face. His head, which was barely connceted to his body, rocketed of his neck, and he slumped to the floor, fully dead. I rooted inside his desk and found my prize. Two professional-grade dueling pistols. I ran back to the shelter to my competitors, sorry, friends, to give them their weapons.
The rules would be very simple. I, the overseer of the duel, would mark two lines on both sides, 20 paces apart. Both competitors would start at opposite sides, and march towards each other on my signal. They could stop and take aim at any time, but couldn't fire until they ha reached the second line. If you miss, you must stand your ground until the second competitor reaches his second line. Roy would be Duncan's second, David would be Jack's second. No modifications on either weapon. Very simple.
The duel was even tenser than I had ever imagined. Both men were sitting at each end, their second loading the gun in the smooth and single method (smooth-bored, single ball in the barrel). Eventually, the procedure for loading was explained by me.
- Pull the hammer to half-cock, allowing the pan to be filled but not allowing the gun to be shot.
- Pour some black powder in the barrel, followed by a ball wrapped in paper and ram the ball home.
- Pour some black powder into the pan very carefully, as, if done badly, it could just erupt in 'a flash in the pan'.
- Snap the pan shut and, making sure the flint is in the correct place, pull the hammer back to the fully cocked position.
- It would then be ready to fire. Somehow, this took longer than really needed.
Finally, by the command of Marche!, we were underway. Jack advanced towards Duncan like a man possessed, reaching his second line well ahead of Duncan. He lifted his pistol up and fired. Unfortuanately, he had forgotten that flintlock pistols were often quite bad at firing where you aimed it. He pulled it down at the time it shot the ball out, and nearly felled Roy with it. Duncan was now in the driving seat, as he could be more patient with his time, and Jack could do nowt about it. He took aim and shot at Jack. Jack's gun crashed to the ground, a hole through the barrel such was the force of the ball. Duncan grinned and said: "Yeah, I'm humble. I didn't kill you." Jack didn't looked pleased. I decided to let the duelers settle their differences and rest for the rest of the day. Otherwise, it was a rather quiet day, no attacks or encounters. Maybe the zombies are thinning out.