Chapter 18 #2
“I brought a couple others, but I’ll let you pick.
This one is a shotgun, and it’s used more for hunting.
This other one is the same with a different action.
They will have more of a kick than the twenty-two.
See, that one has a bolt like the one you’ve first shot; this one’s called a pump action.
” He pulls down the wooden piece of the gun to demonstrate.
“Then there’s the three thirty-eight rifle.
This is what we use to hunt the beasts; it’s got a hell of a range but it’s loud and the kick back might knock you to the ground. ”
I ignore the anxiety under my skin. I need to keep him happy.
“So, which one do you want to try next?” He smiles at me, his brown eyes reflecting off the snow.
“All of them?” I ask. My body almost shakes at the thought.
He picks up the other bolt action, and grabs a few colored shells. “Sure. Let’s do it.”
We go through the same process, shooting off two rounds from each shotgun. I only screw one up when another louder gun goes off next to me, my flinch directing the bullet high above the target.
I place the gun on the table, and Tripp grabs the rifle with a telescope-looking attachment on top.
The stock made of white metal stretches below the telescope with rows of cut-out circles along the sides, showing the black barrel underneath.
It screams death, unlike the brown wooden shotguns left on the table.
A few of the bystanders have shifted over toward us, making comments.
“I bet she’ll hit the ground.”
“I bet she won’t even miss.”
I appreciate whoever that one is.
A hand claps on my shoulder and Mike from the fire smiles at me. “Aly, I’m betting on you so don’t screw up.”
“It’s going to be heavy.” Tripp hands it over, and I almost drop it. He wasn’t kidding. Once I adjust, I heave it up to my waist and walk over into the same spot we were in before.
“Now, this one, you can see, has a scope on top, so we won’t be aiming at the targets here, but the ones behind them, higher up. You’ll see when you look through it. It’s like a magnifying lens.”
Farther? They shoot from further away than this? “Maybe we should just quit while I’m ahead?” Aly would feel apprehensive, but I am terrified.
“No, you got it.”
It feels weird to have someone believe in me again. Even in this twisted situation. If only I could be myself, somewhere on this earth.
Raising the white metal, a thick black pad sinks into my shoulder, and Tripp stands behind me again like he did for the first two shots.
“I’ll be here to catch you if it kicks hard.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I beam, and this time, it’s his cheeks that color.
I shut out the voices behind us. Tripp grabs the set around his neck and puts them on over his white hood.
I tilt up the barrel of the solid metal gun and look through the scope.
It gives me vision similar to when I’m a werewolf.
I empty my lungs and adjust to see the small targets pinned to the trees.
This is how they see us? But how would this work at night?
I close my finger in on the trigger, flames peaking at my fingers, desperate to kill the enemy.
Sometimes you must become it.
I fire.
The gun kicks back hard against my shoulder, but not enough for my feet to move. Magic fills me, and I know the snow around us is going to start to melt.
A few men behind us cheer.
I pull down the headphones. That would have killed my eardrums.
“I’ll take my money,” Mike announces to the group.
“You didn’t waver an inch. Come on, Aly, you deserve a drink.”
Tripp’s excitement eases my nerves. I shot multiple guns, and I didn’t run away. A true smile fills my cheeks and eyes.
He hands me the third to last gun we shot with a handful of blue-topped shells to keep on me. The rest he swings onto his shoulders, and we return them to the creepy man.
We enter a new building, and at the far end to the right is a bar.
Various-colored bottles line the shelves behind a bartender and two TVs hang on the wall in either corner.
A few men sit on wooden stools with a pitcher and frosty glass mugs in front of them.
Tripp takes my hand when we step in, and I shudder.
He squeezes, and I give a small squeeze back.
I miss the things I shouldn’t miss right now, like the mystery tingles of someone who will never be mine.
I look up at him, watching me, and come up with the best reassuring smile I can form, then move with a hop to be beside him.
“Now, what do you like to drink?” he asks, leaning against the bar’s worn edge.
I bump my hip into the side of him, squeezing between two stools. “Tequila.”
“A tequila with . . . ?”
“Pineapple juice, if they have it.”
“Pineapple juice for the girl, and I’ll take a rye and Coke.”
“Coming up.” The girl behind the bar places the two glasses on the counter. She’s got funky hair streaked with green and yellow, along with an ear full of piercings.
A minute later, our drinks in hand, we slide onto stools at a high top.
He sips his beer, wiping a drop from his moustache, and shakes his head.
“What?” I ask.
“You were unreal today. Beyond my expectations. If you want to come out for a night hunt, you let me know.”
“What’s a night hunt? I think my body needs a break before I do much else.”
“We take watch for the beasts, sometimes get a chance to kill them.” So, a hunt, for my own . . .
“Maybe tomorrow night?” I need to learn more so I can leave.
“It’s a date.” As he shifts, his spandex layer hugs the muscles across his chest, and I struggle not to stare. Three years since Pratt’s lockdown of me going into the city is not helping.
“So, can I ask a question?”
My head snaps up from his body and the heat in my chest fires. They’re not the blue eyes I want staring back at me. I’ll be lucky if Stark doesn’t lock me up when I show up after being away. If I make it out of here. “Anything.”
His fingers brush mine on the table. “Are you happy being here? I know you didn’t expect to show up at a place like this after getting lost.”
No one’s ever asked me that before at any time in my life.
“I am.” Aly would be. “It’s nice to feel like I’m a part of something. That you want me here. Home before was . . . lonely.” I take a sip to ease the burn that comes from the truth in my words, sweet pineapple and the fire of tequila slipping down my throat.
“I’m glad. We’re all a family here, even the idiots.”
I laugh. “How many of you are there?”
He drums his fingers on the table. “We’re officially at seventy-two since you’ve arrived. Then adding camp staff, probably closer to ninety. It’s a lot to take care of everyone. I know we can get more to support our cause; a few go to town to recruit.”
A cause . . . is that what this is?
“Oh, wow, that’s quite a bit.”
He looks past me. “We’ve lost a few, though. The beasts are ruthless, but we got one a few months ago, so I know we can get another.”
I grip my chest as the walls of the trailer narrow around us. My breath gets short as heat rages across me.
His voice used to ground me—It’s okay, I’m here. Now there’s only silence.
I wipe the tears from my eyes before they are seen.
“It’s okay, Aly, I promise they won’t hurt you.” His rough hand touches mine on my glass.
“Thanks. It’s, um, pretty scary to think about.”
Tripp waves for another round. We sit and drink.
A few men come in and talk to Tripp, and he does the courtesy of introducing me, though I keep to myself.
The tequila goes down smooth. The room gets a bit louder as the late afternoon shifts to night.
He orders us food directly at the bar. I guess it’s one advantage to being the boss.
My body sways a bit to the music. I let my heat fire in my fingertips, melting the ice in my glass.
“Aly.” I turn to see Gretch hobbling through the door. “I thought I lost my new best friend.”
I’ve never heard those words from anyone since I was a kid—a best friend.
Smiling, I drop off the stool to hug her. The floor moves, and she tightens her grip.
“How many of those have you had?”
“I . . .” Counting with my fingers, I lose track. “I shot a gun today and hit the target.”
The corner of her mouth rises, eyes filled with warmth for her new best friend. “Amazing. We can go again tomorrow. I need to re-sight mine after falling with it.”
“She’s got a wicked shot.” Tripp stands and wraps his arm around my shoulder. I lean into his body. He does look good.
Gretch’s eyes go wide as she grips my hand and tugs me from under him toward the bar. “I’m getting us a drink; I’ll bring her back.”
Tripp accepts the lie, as a full drink sits on my side of the table, and goes to talk to another group of men.
“Aly, how did you manage to get the hottest man here to fall for you in days?”
“Tripp?” I ask.
She pulls me in closer. “Yes, girl, do you need a rescue mission?”
I giggle. “No. No, I’m good. Tripp is nice.” He’s supportive, a great teacher. I sway to the music, waiting for another drink.
Shaking her head with amusement, she hugs me. “You give me the signal if you need me.”
“Thanks,” I hiccup. “I’ve never had a girlfriend like you.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” she says.
The next few hours turn into a mixture of drinks, dancing, and singing.
It’s the most fun I’ve had in . . . Pratt’s bearded face fills my mind.
I’ll settle on a while. There are no thoughts I can hear about them wanting to kill me, no judgmental looks—except from one man in the corner who Gretch calls Sir Grump.
Tripp wraps his arms around me, and I lean into his chest. “I think it’s time to take you out of here.”
Something comforting stirs in my chest when I look up at him. It’s nice to be looked out for, to be seen as something more than a liability.