East Eight
With My Soul
She is life. . . for me. . .
When done eating and after the kitchen was cleaned, I followed Styx into what I had assumed was another bedroom. It was near the kitchen and was way bigger than my room. To the right, there was a table and open lockers along the wall, all with weapons and ammunition.
Styx gestured to vents in the ceiling and upper part of the walls. “To clear out the gun smoke.”
There were three long aisles that reminded me of Finn’s practice batting cages. No netting to catch stray baseballs, but clear lanes for shooting practice. At the beginning of each lane, there were wooden posts with hooks for different items and a big green button.
“Now,” Styx began by showing me a handheld gun, “I will teach you names and models, but first I believe it is important to get in touch with the weapon. In our lifestyle, one of these is on you or within reach at all times.”
As a child, I remember being very aware not to touch the ones Noma had around the house. It became second nature to know their hiding places.
“Besides being deadly to the one you’re pointing this at, you must be responsible for others around you.” He exhaled. “Once you draw your weapon, the playing field changes, and all around you are now in the game.”
I squinted, not too sure of his meaning.
He delivered a curt nod. “Thank you for asking. Okay, if the need arises that you require a gun to protect yourself, not only is it common sense that your opponent will pull their own weapon to defend themselves, hence putting others in danger, but they could also steal yours and use it against you—and whoever is with you.”
A gun palmed, he held it out for me. “The choice is yours. Should never be forced. Huge responsibilities.”
I thought about all the times I’d been afraid. How Noma and I ran for our lives. How many times I hoped we could defend ourselves had the enemy found us. Then I thought of the Misfits, Harmony, Dale. Then, I thought of Saleeni.
My chest widened. Strength in me rose. “I choose to have a fighting chance.”
Styx grinned. “That’s my Baby Boy.” He guided me to a lane.
“Now, with that choice, let’s let your first gun bond happen.
” He pulled up my right arm. Held it straight, then placed the gun in my hand.
Placing my pointer finger so it just touched the outer side of the trigger, he asked, “No need to explain that this is the trigger?”
“That one I got.”
“For practice, you are to use earmuffs to protect your hearing, but for your first fire, I prefer you to get the full effect.”
I thought of my tenth Life Date. “I’ve heard guns before, Styx.”
“Ah, but not of your own firing. Not of your responsibility.”
Damn, the old coot makes a lot of sense.
He continued, “Okay, I could give you lots of ‘stand like this’ or ‘be sure’ tips, but as you know, we are sometimes on a bike, driving, so I prefer you to learn to shoot from any position. Including this relaxed one.” He gestured to my normal way of standing.
“What I will say are the most important things to remember, in my opinion: your surroundings and mission. If I pull a gun, my mission is my target. Simple.”
He pointed to the end of a lane. Hanging there was a sketch of a man. Behind the paper stood wooden panels, riveted with holes, then a brick wall.
“Fastest kill?” he asked.
I thought of the men shooting at Dad’s club brothers. How they were hit in the upper back, shoulders… “The head.”
One curt nod. “Even if it’s not a clean kill, your enemy is less likely to be a major threat with a bullet lodged in his noggin’.” He stepped back from me while saying, “This gun is ready to fire. But first, remember these steps. One: eye your mission.”
My sight closed in on the sketch’s forehead. “Done.”
“Two: who is in the room with you?” I went to look at him, but he stopped me. “Take your eye from your mission, you die.”
My heart started to pound as the true responsibility of such a weapon rested on my na?ve shoulders.
“Who is in this room with you?”
Without moving an eyeball, I scanned my periphery. “One person to my left.”—Styx—“But is there one to my right?”
“Would’ve preferred you noticed that cardboard friendly when entering the room, but well done.”
Sweat was dampening my upper lip. “This is stressful.”
Curt nod. “Fast learner. Liking it.” He adjusted his stance. “Okay, three: let your gun become an extension of you. Takes some practice, but let it be your final word. The end of a deadly argument, to put it crudely. Or to simply save the ones you love.”
I glared at the sketch, fired my first bullet, and watched it hit its mark. Holy shit! “Bullseye! I did it!”
Styx motioned to me. “Barrel to the floor.”
I did as told, pointing my gun to the ground. “Did you see that?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, and neither did you, Silly Rabbit.” He hit a green button on a post. The paper fluttered as it was brought to us on a wire. As the paper got closer, Styx’s jaw began to slacken. “Maddox, can you actually see the paper when it’s way down there?”
“Yeah. You can’t?”
His upper lip snarled at his shortcomings. “No.”
Grinning, I licked my teeth. “Who is the badass now?”
“Fuck off.” He stared at the paper—at the hole in the forehead. “Beginner’s luck.”
His ego was shredded after I hit every target, right where I wanted it, with any gun he gave me.
“Fuck off!” He laughed, surrendering to my wicked aim. “How?”
“It’s my bullet, like you said, so I told the bullet where to go.”
Styx made an O shape with his mouth, then muttered, “Like riding a motorcycle with no know-how.”
Thinking of the first night we got here, I said, “Yeah, I suppose so.” But… “I did crash though.”
He shook his head with a proud smirk. “Crash. Destiny. One and the same, in your case.” He exhaled. “Glad you got the HOG back. It’s another gift from your dad.”
I jolted, my hands floating in front of me as if not knowing where to land. “W-What?”
He went to the table to set down a gun. “Yup! Had been restored for you.” He side-eyed me with a glare. “Now back in the shop.”
Oops!
As always, Styx was a great teacher. Broke down the basics in such a way that no other gun instructions felt overly complicated afterward. I wasn’t an expert by a long shot—no pun intended—but handling that sort of weapon seemed to come naturally to me.
“Your father was a hell of a shot, too.”
Damn, it felt good to know parts of him were strong in me.
“Maybe he had the gift of such control, just never knew it to be different from others.” He told me, “I feel like you lived with limitations before the age of ten, hence recognizing changes afterward.” He put a gun away. “I wonder if second nature is as strong as awareness.”
He side-eyed me again.
Silly Rabbit, say something! “Uh… Well, I’d have to say awareness is knowledge. And the more I know, the more I can take care of those I love.”
Gramps leaned back. “Ya don’t say.”
Nibbling on my bottom lip, proud, I gave myself a pat on the back.
Styx held out a black case. “This should be yours. He would’ve wanted it that way.”
Shaky hands took it. “Dad?”
He cleared his throat. “Mmhmm.” Then handed me a holster. “From me.”
The holster was slick, dark brown leather. Engraved in the leather that went around my left arm and near my heart was the phrase Boundary of the Underworld.
I was a barrier for an unknown world. It was time for me to start carrying.
Felt like a life passage, walking in the steps of men I thought so highly of. A sense of maturity struck me deep.
Maybe that’s why, that night, the beer in Styx’s hand froze in midair, on the way to his lips, when he witnessed me tug my mattress through the bedroom doorway.
Knocking things over, I explained, “Just in case she visits. I want to be here.”
Walking toward my room, he teased, “Ya know, this isn’t exactly playing hard to get?”
Placing the mattress right next to the pool, I also explained, “I don’t care.”
Styx came to me with a pillow and blanket. “Finally getting that sleepover with your mermaid?”
My tongue licked my retracted fangs. “Now that was a night to remember.”
He tossed the items on the mattress for me to fix. “Speaking of the beauty, I ordered skylights and an eye-scanner for a retractable gate in the water.”
Always with the security. So be it. “Whatever it takes to keep her safe while giving her the freedom she needs.”
“Think she will learn the process easily?”
“I was once told nothing is impossible.”
“Smart ass.”
I ran to my room and got my brass knuckles from a nightstand. Seeing Dad’s skully there, I touched it. “Thank you for all these gifts. Love you.” Then I jogged back into the lagoon.
Styx casually asked, “Since we will be in here for a bit, want to learn about the security cameras?”
I welcomed the distraction.
I met him at an outer wall of the ‘church-with-no-bibles’. There was a medium-sized desk with a couple of monitors and a computer. It looked like a table that you could stand at, but Styx clicked a button on the left, and it lowered to a good sitting height.
After pulling up two chairs, he said, “Sit.”
Both of us sitting in front of the screens.
He started typing on a keyboard and explaining the logistics.
Giving me the layout and details. “We have color night-vision… Dual-lens optical… 4K resolution… Digital zoom… Bought under a fake name, of course. No monthly subscription, no trace… Distinguishes between humans and animals… Reduces false alarms. Solar panels… Continuous battery backup… Connected to your cellphone… Local storage… Cloud access… If they cut wires here, backup cameras run off of wireless… If anyone crosses this path… Also have triggers all along this strip…” He spoke of generators and more solar panels on the roof.
From the swivel chair, I peered around the lagoon. “Any cameras in here?”
“I have triggers on every door, but no cameras. No system is safe if the right hacker finds ya.” He gazed at the pool, then me. “Want to take a chance she will be seen?”
Staring at the pool, my stomach did a brutal flip. “If anyone ever found out about her…”