Tortured Dreams

Chapter Twelve

Chapter 12

After walking down a narrow flight of stairs that I hadn't seen earlier, I found Alejandro. They had their own shooting range. Xavier was already there and had his ear protection on. Michael and Lucas each grabbed a pair and slipped them on.

"This is a .9mm Beretta. Lucas suggested trying it before trying to make you hold a Glock. You seem to have issues with guns," Xavier said, setting the gun down on the range counter.

"I do have issues with guns." I slipped on my own pair of protective headgear. I ignored the fact that they had picked out pink for me. At least I knew I wouldn't be wearing other people's ear protection.

"Now, take a steady breath and then we'll see what you can do." Lucas said calmly.

I was feeling a bit insulted. I had issues with guns, but they weren't big issues, it was mostly the thought that if I had one, I'd use it. Malachi had spent years teaching me to use a gun, a knife, and a sword. I wasn't sure I would ever need to know how to use a sword, but better safe than sorry.

I fired nine shots into the paper hanging up at the back of the range. Alejandro hit a button and pulled it forward. All nine shots were in the head. He frowned at me.

"I know how to fire a gun," I reminded him.

"OK, we'll go back further. This time, empty the clip in less than 15 seconds. I'll keep time."

"Ok," the paper target was replaced with a new one. Alejandro moved it back. It went further this time.

I used a second lining up the sight. I emptied the clip. Alejandro let out a quiet growl. Lucas had a coughing fit.

"13.7 seconds, not bad Cain, that's faster than either Lucas or Xavier by a second and Michael didn't finish it. Now let's see how many you hit."

There was a whir and the paper moved forward. I could already tell that all of them had been in the head. Most of it was gone. Not a single bullet seemed to have hit outside the black outline.

"Do you like the Beretta or do you want a different gun?" Alejandro asked.

"I kind of like this one." I switched it to the other hand. "Send another one back."

Alejandro hung up a third target. It whirred to the back. I fired left handed. He pulled it forward. Nine rounds to the head. I had only fired nine rounds again.

"You pass and it would appear you are ambidextrous." Alejandro sighed.

"You never know when you won't be able to use your dominant hand. Does this mean I get to carry two guns?"

"Can you fire two guns simultaneously?" He asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"I want to see that." He handed me a second Beretta. The target was once again whirred backwards. I took another second and started firing. I emptied both clips.

"Damn," Alejandro looked at it. "You missed with only three shots."

"That seems like a bad average," I frowned at my lack of skills.

"Most people can't really fire two guns simultaneously and hit their target with any of the rounds," Lucas told me.

"Really?" Malachi had trained me that way. He could do it.

"Really." Alejandro said as he signed a piece of paper.

"What now?" I asked.

"Firearms training passed. You may now legally carry two guns in a shoulder holster. You might consider getting a double holster made. We don't have any."

"Do I get to keep the Berettas?" I asked as he walked away.

"They're yours." He shouted back.

"Interesting," I murmured at his back.

"Don't take it personally, you did better than him. He's going to go sulk for a while. Congrats on the firearms training," Lucas smiled at me.

"What now?" I asked, looking around.

"Now, we go to autopsy. If you decide to throw up, please do it away from the body." Xavier removed his ear protection, grabbed my hand and dragged me into another room.

It was cooler in the next room. Hospital clean and smelling of disinfectant. The smell alone would be enough to make a person throw up.

"Ok, I have to do this autopsy anyway. It's pretty standard and routine. It's for the ATF. It appears he shot himself in the head, so it will be messy."

I didn't say anything, just prepared myself for the removal of the sheet. I didn't gag. I didn't throw up. I was slightly perturbed by the fact that the guy looked dead and had a large hole in his head that Xavier ran a stick through.

He was talking into a recorder, leaving notes for himself. His hands worked swiftly. I stayed just to the side, out of the way and watched. I felt the calm come over me. I didn't toss my cookies. The urge didn't even hit.

When Xavier finished, he turned off the recorder, pulled the sheet back over the guy and looked at me. He removed his visor and gloves. I did the same.

"You must have a cast iron stomach. I was even trying to get you..." Xavier stopped talking and looked at me. "If I could even begin to imagine what you were thinking about at this exact moment, I would be a millionaire."

"What?" I asked him, feeling the calm recede.

"What is that?" He asked.

"What is what?" I asked back.

"That mask. I looked at you and you were completely blank. Even your eyes. I've seen guys on this slab with more alive looking eyes than yours. It's gone now though."

I shrugged. I didn't have an answer. It wasn't a new question either. Others had asked it before.