
Lord Nelson just before he got fatally shot at his decisive victory of Trafalgar. This victory by the way made England the ruler of the seas for almost a hundred years. Grumpy

Lord Nelson just before he got fatally shot at his decisive victory of Trafalgar. This victory by the way made England the ruler of the seas for almost a hundred years. Grumpy
Decent sling system is critical component of practical defense weapon. While this one is homebuilt, there are dozens of top-quality commercial options from which to choose.
Instantly you shout the alarm and your family leaps into action. Your son grabs a case of MREs and heads for the minivan. Your daughter scoops up as much bottled water as she can carry and rushes to meet him.
Your wife bravely holds the horde at bay with the garden hose to buy you precious time to get inside. You throw open the door to the gun safe and scan its contents. You have very little time. You can only grab one gun and a sack full of ammo. What’s it going to be? There’s a lot riding on your decision—those guys outside want to eat your brain…
So what will it be? The argument of what gun to have if you could only have one sparks lively discourse any place two or more gun guys are gathered.
As my long-suffering bride can attest, we gun guys have a bit of a problem with the concept of how much is really enough. Even zealots with hundreds of guns of all flavors are still out there hunting that last elusive barrel length or nitnoid widget without which their collection remains woefully incomplete. The discussion of what comes closest to filling the niche for a single all-purpose survival firearm can indeed be spicy.
Some say a single survival gun should be an AR-15 for its light weight, wealth of accessories and fast handling. Others stand by the venerable Kalashnikov for its legendary reliability. Still others swear that as long as you have a tuned 1911 in your belt, you could want for nothing else.I disagree with all those folks. I say the ultimate zombie survival gun is some variation on your granddad’s pump 12 gauge.
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It’s hard to beat a 12 bore for flexibility and versatility. Stuff it with slugs and you’re good on zombie-sized targets out to 100 meters. Feed it buckshot and you’ve got more up-close stopping power than anything that doesn’t sport a tripod or an impact fuse. Switch to light birdshot and you can even feed the family during your trek to areas not contaminated with the undead.
I’ve owned scads of shotguns but always seem to come back to my trusty Remington 870 slide-action when the new wears off of whatever whiz-bang scattergun has caught my eye. Around my hacienda, the 870 stands out among all the other weapons in the collection, and my family refers to it as the Zombie Gun.
The 870 has been around since 1950 and thus sports an array of aftermarket accessories that can induce overload in even the most ardent gun nut. The action is notoriously reliable and smooth and, even bought new, this workhorse doesn’t make the dent in your wallet that most contemporary black guns do.

EXERCISING YOUR STOCK OPTIONS
A bare pistol grip configures the weapon such that it can actually be concealed under a jacket—a handy feature when traversing areas not completely overrun with zombies—but the recoil and accuracy in this configuration with even light birdshot is punishing.
The standard stock that comes with the gun is appropriately scaled for most American shooters and, if so configured, does not raise eyebrows when carried in public or hung in the back of a pickup truck—at least not down here in the Deep South where I live.
Folding stocks come in a wide variety of offerings but are, in my experience, universally uncomfortable. I have found the Speedfeed® pistol-grip stock to be the most comfortable and handy stock option of the lot. What sets the Speedfeed stock apart from its competitors is the clever inclusion of a pair of spare ammo magazines in the sides of the stock. Each tubular magazine is spring-loaded and holds two spare rounds. Accessing these reloads is simple and intuitive and allows four rounds of backup ammo to be stored onboard the weapon itself without adversely affecting the weapon’s ergonomics or adding some protruding ditzel that could get hung up on clothing, equipment, or brush.
The pistol-grip geometry of the Speedfeed stock fits me nicely and helps ameliorate the recoil of high brass slugs and buckshot that might otherwise punish my shoulder unduly. This stock comes complete from the factory with a generous rubber recoil pad.
Remington 870 slide-action shotgun is zombie-ready with shortened barrel and Speedfeed pistol-grip stock. Thus configured, it carries nine rounds on board the weapon.
While this process may seem somewhat daunting, there really isn’t much to it. The form is available online and must be submitted in duplicate along with a recent photograph, a set of standard FBI fingerprint cards, a check for $200, and the signature of your local chief law enforcement official. The turnaround time can be fairly quick, but they say patience is a virtue. This particular set of paperwork took about three months door to door.
Once the paperwork returns approved from BATF, taking the barrel down is a fairly painless task. I cut the barrel to length with a cutoff wheel on a table saw and dressed the muzzle with a Dremel tool. My drill press and an appropriate tap mounted one of those nifty neon-green aftermarket front sights at the appropriate position.
The purist could have the muzzle bored for replaceable choke tubes. However, against snakes, varmints and the like, the 12-inch barrel as cut and squared has yielded yeoman’s service for the 14 years I have been using it.
After degreasing the chopped barrel with paint thinner, I sprayed it with ceramic engine block paint and baked it according to the manufacturer’s instructions. The resulting finish has been impervious to every solvent I’ve exposed it to, as well as mightily ding and scuff-resistant.
A homebuilt sling system optimized for my physique completes the ensemble and makes toting the piece on long forays comfortable and manageable.
In my experience, it’s worth it to invest a little time, effort and money into a quality suspension system for any weapon that will be keeping you company on long walks or cross-country movement. Even small, compact firearms become an uncomfortable nuisance after a couple of miles without a decent sling or holster.
PUTTING THE ZOMBIE GUN THROUGH ITS PACES
In the years I have been using my Zombie Gun, I have run just about every conceivable round through it. Buckshot and slugs are still a handful, but the Speedfeed stock makes the recoil tolerable. Through the 12-inch barrel, patterns with buckshot are still tight enough to scrape a zombie at any reasonable engagement range. As previously mentioned, rifled slugs will stay on a zombie-sized target out to about 100 meters.
Flechette rounds, less-than-lethal beanbag rounds, and magnesium-spewing dragon’s breath rounds have all performed as advertised through this system as well. With the long 28-inch tube and a full choke, the Zombie Gun does a fine job against turkey. With the right stock, ammunition and barrel selection, this piece is good on rabbits, squirrels, deer, and birds when the zombie threat is minimal. In my experience, there is very little that can be legally hunted in North America that cannot be reliably addressed with my Zombie Gun in the appropriate configuration.
COST TO BE ADEQUATELY PREPARED FOR A ZOMBIE ATTACK
Unlike ammo for machine guns or even semi-auto black rifles, a couple boxes of ammo for the 870 will actually carry you through an afternoon at the range without breaking the budget. If carefully selected, $20 to $30 will purchase enough ammo in the appropriate configurations to set aside for any realistic eventuality, as well as a few unrealistic ones. I can seriously say that I get more real-world use out of my utility zombie shotgun than any other weapon I own.
I suggest you not tell just anybody about your plans to acquire a Zombie Gun. Most gun nuts will think it a respectable undertaking and volunteer volumes of free advice as to technical specifications and capabilities. However, some will try to have you put away or, at the very least, relocate to a neighborhood far from yours.
But in the right company, the question of what is the perfect Zombie Gun can be relied upon to spark a spirited discussion.
Whether your day job involves keeping the peace or just being a responsible citizen, the legal exercise of our Second Amendment rights represents the best safeguard we have for the remainder of the Bill of Rights.
It has been said that luck favors the prepared and, who knows, if you are the only adequately armed guy on your block, perhaps the zombie horde will move on to the house of that neighbor with the deep-seated aversion to firearms and the Handgun Control Inc. bumper sticker on his car.
My bosses here at FMG have told me I can indulge in a spot of fiction on occasion, so long as I don’t make a habit of it. This week, I’ll strain that tolerance ….
The sick man awoke gradually. It took a moment to attain clarity. The hospital room was as he had previously left it — bright, cluttered, foreign and terrifying. Something, however, was not quite as it should be.
Like headlights dissecting a foggy road, his mind gradually made sense of the scene. The sick man understood little if any of the machines or their diabolical purposes. At that moment, however, he realized what seemed so alien about the place. Nothing was moving … like, at all.
The displays were bright and clear but unchanging. The very air no longer seemed mobile. That was strange in the extreme. It was then he noticed the young man seated comfortably next to his bed. The man’s eyes were fixed upon him, neutral and implacable. The sick man had always read people easily, but this man was unreadable.
The sick man pulled himself up in the bed. He was surprised at how good he felt. Gone was the ache in his back and hips. He no longer sensed the presence of the sundry tubes violating his spent body. Perhaps this would be a good day.
The silence between the two men soon became uncomfortable.
“Who are you?”
The young man answered flatly, “You know who I am.”
The younger man looked to be in his late twenties. He was handsome and fit, dressed in an unadorned blue t-shirt. His pants were so bland as to be unnoticeable. His eyes had a penetrating quality, like something that could cleave meat from bone. He exuded a palpable calm.
The revelation came suddenly, like an electric shock.
“But I’m not ready,” the sick man said, fear now obvious in his voice.
“Nobody is ever ready,” The young man responded. There resulted yet another uncomfortable silence.
“You’re not what I expected.”
“Literally everybody says that.”
There was no sense of impatience or cynicism. These were simply facts.
“So, it’s really time?”
“Indeed, it is.”
“I still have things I need to do.”
“Like what? You need to pull together another payroll or get that last shipment ready? Have you paid your taxes and signed the forms? Is there something you need to say to someone? You’ve had all of those opportunities and more. That’s all gone now.”
The sick man struggled to push his natural disquiet back someplace else and focused on the moment. He had always been a problem solver, a man ever cursed with a hyperdeveloped sense of responsibility. This was simply a strange new problem to be solved.
“So, what’s the real deal here? How does this work?” His voice was steadier than his nerves.
The younger man gave the tiniest sigh. It wasn’t exasperation in any real sense, more resignation brought upon by endless repetition.
“Allow me to streamline this for you,” he said. “Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. It’s as predictable as the tides. We can talk here for as long as you wish. You’re on the clock, not me. You’ll find that time means something different now than it did for you previously. However, trust me, letting yourself get too deep into the weeds just makes this harder. Debating the finer points of philosophy will render you muddled. You’ll want your faculties intact for what is to come.”
That took a moment to process. “What is coming?” he asked.
“You already know that,” the younger man said.
“Will I go to heaven?”
“Should you? You tell me.”
The man’s mind raced. He searched for a Bible verse or something similarly profound, but nothing came. Before things got out of hand, the younger man continued, “You’ve answered your own question.”
The fear welled up again. Now teetering, the sick man said, “This is hard.”
Without emotion, the younger man said, “Try my job for a week.”
As predicted, the sick man skipped to acceptance straightaway. On a certain level, he appreciated that trying to negotiate would be fruitless.
“Will this hurt?”
“God is not cruel,” the younger man said. “Regardless of the mechanism or circumstances, it seldom takes long. From the outside looking in, sometimes it seems sudden. Others, it appears, are protracted. The actual event, however, is reliably quick.”
The sick man felt himself begin to rise inexplicably. The pressure of the sheets gave way as he, disconcertingly, began to pass through them. He sensed that he was above himself somehow. None of this felt real.
“I’m afraid,” he said. There was a childlike quality to his voice that had not been there previously.
“I know you are,” he heard the younger man say. The voice now felt distant. “Everyone is. That’s why I’m here. As I said, God is not cruel. Just, certainly, but never cruel.”
In moments, the young man was far away. With his absence, the sick man began to feel cold. The suffocating sense of isolation immediately exceeded his level of comfort. The fear boiled up yet again, stronger this time. He struggled to maintain control. Then the thing was done.