He went into the tiny, messy kitchen to make a cup of coffee, thinking that might erase a little of the alcohol fog from his mind - what he planned needed a clearer mind than he had at the moment. When he leaned to the right side to get the jar of instant coffee from a shelf under the counter, the rope loop over that shoulder started to slip so that he had to grab the gun to keep it from hitting the floor. He added a heaping spoonful of coffee to a large mug of water, put it in the microwave for a minute and a half, and went back to the bedroom to fix his makeshift gun sling.
Tying one end of the remaining rope to the top of the loop over his right shoulder, he passed the rope behind his head and looped it over his left shoulder, under his armpit, and tied that loop. Now, when he flexed his arms up, down, around, and leaned left and right, the gun stayed securely in place.
Ranny went back to the kitchen to get his coffee, and brought it back to the bedroom to sip while he made the rest of his preparations. From the back of his closet, he pulled out a long black coat. Several years before, the hero in a Western movie set in Australia had popularized this garment, called a duster. Some of the younger cowboys had bought the style, and wore them to events at the Cow Palace even if the San Francisco climate rarely warranted that. One unfortunate fellow had succumbed to the heat of the day and had left his draped over a hay bale down behind the cow barn. When Ranny's shift ended that day, calf roping was underway up in the arena in the main building, so there was no one around to see as Ranny quickly rolled the duster into a tight bundle and secreted it in his car. He'd never worn it, fearing it would be recognized if he was at the Cow Palace, and knowing it would look out of place in his neighborhood. Besides, it was almost two sizes larger than he needed. But today he finally had a use for it. When he pulled it on, he was pleased to see that its length, down to mid-calf, completely concealed the M-16 even if he didn't button it. He practiced slipping his left hand inside, grasping the front stock of the gun, then quickly swinging it up to his shoulder in firing position. It worked perfectly, without catching on anything.
The duster was plentifully supplied with pockets, and he dropped the spare clip into the larger left pocket, then dropped his loaded .38 revolver into a smaller pocket on the right side. Draining the last of the coffee, he reached into a clothes drawer and fished out an old employee ID badge he'd hidden there and clipped it to the edge of a pocket on the coat. He'd lied about having lost his badge once, just so he could have two of them and keep one in his car, one at home. Showing up to work without one meant a big hassle, and Ranny hated dealing with authority.