Divided

:Chapter Eighteen:

*****

I wake to birds chirping in the sky. Everyone else has left my cabin, so I can take my time to wake up. My hair drops in curly tangles, brushing my shoulders when I walk.

Today is the first day of the second kind of training. Because I didn't hear Bruce talking yesterday, I don't know what to expect. I walk to the breakfast and sit with Nick. We don't talk, but I know he needs my support as much as I need his. Even if that's just being near each other. Breakfast is big today, two fried eggs, sausage and hash browns. Nick eats it all without saying a word.

Everyone walks to the yard in silence too. I wish someone would talk, say something. Anything. Bruce stands on one side and Matthew on the other as we shuffle in. Beside them are two tables full of small guns, and boxes of ammo. On the far end of the yard, at least a half mile away, are bright white targets with a tiny red spot in the middle.

"Ok everyone if your here that means you've made it to the second part of training. We will be retaining our old groups, so find your leader for more instruction. On your way to your sides though, please grab a gun and box of ammo." He says with a grin. I want to slap that look off his face.

We all walk to the nearest table and pick up supplies. These guns are extremely light, for a gun at least, and small. They probably don't even shoot real bullets. I've shot a gun before, my dad taught me how to hunt when I was small, and I continued as I got older. It's illegal to hunt technically, but it's not illegal to shoot if you can get your hands on a gun, which is also rare. But my dad did. And if a small animal walked into his sights at the last minute and you accidentally shot it... Well, rabbit is delicious.

"Welcome back everyone. This week we are working with guns and knives. You should always have a weapon with you, but just in case you didn't we did hand to hand combat last week. This is where the real training starts." He says scanning the group. There's only eight of us now, sixteen total. It'll be interesting to see how this training goes.

"We're going to start with learning how to shoot. If you'll please line up in front of a target and practice. These aren't real bullets, so if you slip up and shoot yourself or someone else, it'll just sting. A lot. I'll come around and correct you one by one." He says as we turn to find a target.

Most people go only feet away from the board, but I want more of a challenge. I startup back about five yards away and load my gun. I don't shoot at first, I just get my stance ready and pretend. I have to be used to the weight and feeling before I can do it well.

When I've got the movements memorized, I take in a breath and shoot. The bullet goes straight through the red. A rush of energy fills me, the same rush I used to feel shooting with my dad. I want to feel it again. I step back a few more yards and aim, breath, shoot. I hit the middle right over the spot my last bullet punctured. I smile wide and go back as fast as I can without hitting a wall and aim. My eyes focus on the target and I breath in, listening to my steady heart beat and firm hold on the weapon, I pull the trigger. There's little to no kick back on this gun, so I can barely tell that I actually shoot it. I can't see if I hit the target though. I hold the gun tightly at my side as I walk up to the base of the target. My fingers slide down its face only finding one hole, in the red, where all three bullets hit.

When I turn around, I see everyone's eyes on me. I lower my head and pull my shoulders in, slouching to draw attention away from me.

"Lib where'd you learn to shoot like that?" Matthew says approaching me from the side.

"I uh, oh, my dad taught me when I was young." I say when he's about a foot away from me. Matthew opens his mouth to say something but someone else walks up from behind me.