Infection Runs Deep

CHAPTER SEVEN: SHOT IN THE DARK

The moon cast a haunted glow over the base, elongating shadows and diminutiating the small swaths of light emanating from windows and forgotten lamps. I jumped at every little sound, so afraid of getting caught.

Luke bumped me with his shoulder. "Hey, don't stress. This is supposed to be fun."

"I am having fun," I said defensively, my tone juxtaposing my words.

"Famous last words," Warner called from up ahead. "Come on, slackers. We're the last to arrive."

"We're fashionably late," I quipped. "It's trendy."

Luke waved him off. Warner just sighed and continued on without us. Luke turned to me. "Race you?" I didn't answer. I just took off in a full sprint. Without some sort of advantage, I would never win. He laughed. "You..." He barreled after me, gaining speed with every step.

My legs burned as I finished up the sprint. Luke came from behind and grabbed my hand, using my momentum to catch up with me.

"Cheater," I yelled breathlessly. So I cut him off, making him stop short.

We made it to the range, panting and giggling, stumbling around like drunks. Warner raised his eyebrows as he walked in behind, cool and composed.

Luke rapped his knuckles on a big wooden platform. "Listen up. You know the drill. Guns in the back, following all safety rules, the whole thing. Biggest and most important rule: the most headshots win. 10 shots each round. Make 'em count."

The group, composed of about ten people including Luke, Warner, and I, flurried around to get ready. Sleek black cases held rifles of different makes and styles.

"No big guns tonight, Falls?" One of them called out as he popped the latches on a case, picking up the rifle and examining the barrel.

"Nah, back to the basics. All about technique." Luke gestured for me to follow him. He grabbed a case smaller than the rest and a small green box teeming with ammo. The bullets were much smaller than I imagined.

Whenever I operated on people who had been shot, which happened much more frequently than I expected thanks to my location in the heart of the city, the bullets usually left through and through wounds. More often than not, if the bullet didn't leave, we didn't take it out. I had never held a single bullet in my hand before.

Luke saw me watching and reached for my hand. He gently set an unfired round into the palm of my hand. "This is a .22 caliber bullet. Do you know what that means?" I shook my head, feeling the smooth metal beneath my fingers and examining the structure. "The round itself is .22 inches in diameter. It's one of the smallest calibers, or size, but that makes it much easier to control." He pulled a black gun with a long barrel out of the canvas bag. "This is a long rifle, a lighter model than what we typically use with no magazine. You manually load each bullet. Great for beginners."

I nodded slowly. "Okay. That's a lot of information, but I get what you're saying."

"Great." I reached for the gun, but he pulled it out of my reach. "Before I give this to you, we need to go over gun safety rules. 1. Never point the gun at anything you don't want to shoot. Doesn't matter if that's another person, a wall, or your foot. Don't aim at it unless you want to shoot it. 2. Assume that the gun is always loaded. Treat it that way. 3. Your finger is only on the trigger when you are ready to fire. Otherwise, you rest it on the side, extended." He pulled up the rifle, taking care to aim the barrel down and away from everything and showed me how his pointer finger rested on the outside of the gun. "Those are the main ones. You got them? Say them back to me."

I repeated them, eager to get started. Gunshots began to ring out in the background and I flinched at the noise. "Guns are a lot louder than the movies say they are. Wear earplugs." He handed me a pair and a pair of clear glasses, similar to what we wear in surgery. "Now, you're right handed, right? And right eye dominant?"