What if: Active Shooter

I heard the gunshots and thought to myself for the hundredth time "God, I hate the city." a Canadian used to wide open spaces I had already had enough big city to last a life time and now this. Eden and the kids were five floors down in a toy store and best as I could tell the gunshots were coming from my floor. I know they were gunshots, I'd spent enough time an the range to recognize them even before the screams started.
A quick recon showed a lone gunman about a hundred meters out heading towards the Oakley store where I had found myself pricing out overpriced sunglasses I would buy a knockoff of from a street vendor later. My security instincts immediately kicked in and I immediately escorted everyone out the back door into the maintenance tunnels, once everyone was safe I went back to the entrance and peek out between two displays. The gunman had a pump action shotty and was now fifteen meters from the entrance, I ducked back down, set a timer on my phone for fifteen seconds and slid it to the opposite corner of the store.
Being Canadian I wasn't allowed to bring guns into the states but I had spent years bringing knives into places I wasn't supposed to, today was no exception. My right hand pulled the Pentagon mini dagger from the small of my back while my left index finger hooked through the Snarl dangling from my neck.
Footsteps close now, the racking of a slide, the tinkling of a discharged shell. Adrenaline had completely taken over by now, my fight or flight stuck permanently on fight. I knew one thing and one thing only, this person had harmed innocents and as long as he was free to continue his rampage my family was in danger.
The phone goes off. A black shotgun barrel snakes through the door. The owner follows, his attention on the sound.
No time to think, just act. I lunge upwards the dagger stabs out for the man's throat, the Snarl slashes at his trigger finger. Red arterial blood follows the dagger as I pull it back.
The shotgun clatters to the stone floor, I kick it away but it doesn't matter.
The gunman collapses to the floor, doing his best to stem the flow of his life force. My adrenaline flow stops and I suddenly feel very tired. I sit down, nothing to do now but wait for the Calvary to come arrest me.

What if: Nautical Breakdown

Goddammit Karl!

The 14 aluminum boat's outboard motor sputters to a stop. We lift it out of the water to discover a shit ton of fishing line wrapped around the prop. We're across the lake from camp, where the oars are still sitting on the beach. The only thing in the boat besides a couple of fishing rods is a cooler, with only a few sodas and one bottle of water left. Karl only has his cell phone, a bic lighter, and a pack of cigarettes. I've got my SOG Seal Strike, a waterproof lighter, SOG Powerlock, and a SOG Dark Energy that has been on the fritz lately. It's seven pm, the sun is setting and the temperature is starting to drop, we're 10 kms from camp near a wooded area. It's an 18 km walk around the lake, and we're still a couple hundred meters from the nearest shore.

Just like that a day at six lakes turns into a life threatening situation for Roddy and Karl.

I briefly considered swimming to shore but the dropping temperatures meant wet clothes would be more dangerous than staying in the boat. I thought about cutting the propeller free but Karl reminded me the motor had burnt up. Only option was to try and ride the tide closer to shore. Luckily the water gods were with us and we drifted to shore just as the sun began to set.

Karl and I pulled the boat up onto the muddy shore, looking around at the scraggly woods. It would be a long walk back to camp and with only one faulty flashlight and almost daylight we weren't making it. So we set about gathering wood to make a fire, with temperatures dipping down into the single digits and Karl's insistence on wearing shorts. I hadn't worn shorts since the Fort McMurray fires and probably never would again. We gathered up the driest wood we could, which wasn't much but it would have to do.

Using the remaining gas from the boat's tiny outboard we got a decent fire going on the driest part of the shore we could find. Using the Powerlock we dismantled the boat as best be could turning the boat on its side next to the fire to use as a makeshift shelter. The seats we as pillows while the wooden benches we turned into a fire break. With the boat's keel facing the water, most of the wind was blocked and we actually stayed pretty warm.

The Dark Energy finally quit on me while I was hunting for wood but I was close enough to the fire to make my way back to the fire. Unfortunately I didn't see the root sticking up and ended up twisting my ankle. I would still be able to walk but it would be slow going. I made it back to the fire where I informed Karl what had happened. He asked if would be able to make it, I said I would try.

Sun rise the next morning we set out for the camp, following the lake shore as best we could. The forest disappeared only a few hundred meters around the shore, replaced by rolling sand dunes. My ankle gave out after only two kms and after a great deal of arguing we decided Karl should continue on and come back to get me with the ATV. I dug myself into the sand having given Karl the last of the water and keeping a ginger ale for myself.

As the sun crept higher into the sky I began to wonder if splitting up was the best thing to do. Even with my sand cave and water from the lake to keep me cool the temperature reached well over thirty degrees Celsius with no sign of clouds in the sky. About midday I fell asleep, waking to find the sun far into the western sky.  Check of my watch said it was thirteen hundred hours. I stood up to look and see if I could find Karl but he was long gone from site. I drank the ginger ale and crawled back into my hole.

The sun was beginning to set now, the edges of it just brushing the horizon. I began to worry that I'd be spending the night alone, crippled, in a sand hole.

Just as the last edges of daylight turned the sky a brilliant pink I heard the ATV motor roaring across the sands towards me and I stood up frantically waving my arms. It was Karl!

Karl had brought the first aid kit so I wrapped my ankle and we turned around and headed back to camp. As the ATV rose and dipped with the dunes I watched the last rays of sunshine disappear behind the horizon. Karl looked back and in the last hints of daylight I gave him the thumbs up.

Why you need a 22

Goddammit Karl! I'll write a blog but you need a reliable 22. That sks is cute but it's also heavy, clunky, and the ammo is heavy. Which brings us to the topic of this blog.

The 22lr is the most prolific round in the world, existing since the late 1800s it is still the cheapest, lightest, and most versatile round available on the market. Now I hear the ar boys shouting about 223 but let me point out you can't find a true pistol in 223(sbrs don't count). I hear the caliber kings proclaiming things like penetration, knockdown, and other things they proclaim. Guess what? 22lr will punch through most if not all soft targets, the rest is just flak.

Now then why 22? Well for starters you can get just about every type of firearm in 22 or you can get a conversion kit. It's still dirt cheap for a shit ton of rounds. It weighs nothing so you can pack ten or twenty times the amount of ammo compared to larger calibers. Plus it allows you to share ammo between your rifle, ar, and pistol depending on what you carry.

Here's some wierd points that can be either good or bad arguments. 22lr is the most commonly used round in murders. With a couple of exceptions 22 long guns in Canada don't have magazine capacity restrictions.

Now don't get me wrong, I own plenty of other larger calibers but 22lr is my favourite. Between my mare's leg, Ar7, stg-44, and lever action I have everything covered.

Now what 22s do I recommend? Get a takedown, a handgun, and a semi auto. Which models and brands are up to you but those three are a good starting point. Once you own these you have to train with them often. Because doesn't matter if it's small game hunting, survival, shtf, or the goddamn apocalypse you need to be able to use whatever gun you have.

Until next time this is Roddy Cross with Wolf Cross Adventures, saying live forever.