Red

by Ryan Rinsler

  “Not bad!” he exclaimed, staggering backward. “Good, you used a distraction to conceal your draw. Well done.”

  Connor shrugged.

  “Don’t look so smug,” he said. “You rammed that thing into my chest. If I wasn’t a pensioner, I could’ve knocked it out of your hand or grabbed it. We’ll work on your close quarters reaction firing later, but for now, good.”

  “How are you two getting on?” Connor asked Matt as he approached. “Any closer?”

  “We’re getting there,” he said. “Nolan’s told me pretty much everything he knows, which ain’t a lot. Right now I’m just learning the system.”

  “And how’s that?”

  “Complex.”

  “Confident?”

  “Of course,” he replied nonchalantly. “Can I fire a gun?”

  “Everybody needs training,” said Jacob. “When you’ve finished with Nolan I’ll do you.”

  Matt grinned and walked off.

  “I’m not sure I want to see Matt with a gun in his hand,” said Connor, tucking his pistol back into the holster. “It doesn’t feel like a natural pairing.”

  “Everyone needs basic self-protection skills.”

  “He’s certainly got the attitude,” replied Connor. Jacob looked inquisitive. “He’s not afraid to smash someone over the head with a lump of wood, put it that way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Long story.”

  “Well, that’s exactly the sort of person you need,” said Jacob. “Someone who takes action. The worst kind of people are the ones who just stand back and watch while something goes on. There’s only a small percentage of the population who actually step forward and take the necessary action.”

  He sighed. Another plus point for the wonder kid. “I suppose it can’t harm him knowing the basics,” he said, a reluctance in his tone. “I’m not sure what good it will all be though — most of the business will be on the other side.”

  “It’s all good to know.”

  Connor agreed. Up until a few weeks ago he’d had virtually zero experience of conflict and even less training, and he needed to be able to handle himself. As did Matt.

  “So can we shoot now?”

  “No, you need to learn about chambering, reloading and clearing a malfunction first. Go inside and get two juice boxes and meet me in the gazebo.”

  Connor walked into the house like Jacob’s obedient son and grabbed four juice boxes from the fridge. He made his way into the morning room and handed two of them to Matt, who was sat cross legged on the floor typing into his laptop. There were wires and circuit boards strewn across the floor, and Nolan was busy working on the Seeker device.

  “Are we at the third tier yet?” asked Matt.

  “What?”

  “Not you,” he said, looking up at Connor.

  “Almost,” said Nolan.

  “What’s the third tier?” asked Connor. Matt looked at him and raised his eyebrows. “OK, don’t ask, I get it.”

  “This isn’t actually that difficult,” said Matt. “It’s just basic encryption, it’s just really long.”

  “Really long what?”

  Matt paused, then opened his palms, clearly in confusion at Connor’s lack of understanding. “Really long encryption?”

  Connor’s mind went blank, and after a few seconds of blinking, saying nothing, he turned toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it. How long?” he called back.

  “Later tonight maybe.”

  He opened the back door and the crisp clean air once again filled his lungs. As he made his way down to the bottom of the garden, where Jacob was sat in the gazebo taking apart his pistol, he looked around at the majestic scenery. The mountains in the distance were like oil paintings, the enormous clouds being ripped apart by their summits yet appearing completely stationery. The valley housed a picturesque lake surrounded by evergreens, the waters glistening as the surface was licked by the gentle breeze of the afternoon. The grass was soft underfoot, like a prickly cushion, leaving imprints of his bare feet as he walked.

  I could live here, he thought, maybe for the first time since he’d left. At the age he was when he left for Philadelphia he just wanted independence. He wanted a flash apartment in the city where he could have parties and live out his late teens and early twenties in lavish, chic style. He wanted to get away from the ranch, away from his past. All this time he’d been blinkered to its true beauty, but now his eyes were open to it.

  He sat next to Jacob and gave him his juice box. “I’ve just been thinking,” he said.

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “I could live here.”

  “It is your house,” he said, rubbing the dismembered remains of his pistol. “You’ve always been welcome here, but I wouldn’t expect you to want to live with your old dad again. I know that.”

  “Actually, you know what? I think I would.”

  Jacob looked quietly delighted as he polished away.

  “I think when all this is over I’d like to come and live here,” he said, looking around. “I can think of worse places in the world.”

  “Yes, yes, there definitely are,” he replied. “Let’s see. There’s a long way to go yet by the sounds of it. How are they getting on?”

  “Matt reckons they will have cracked it by tonight.”

  “Oh really?” Jacob exclaimed. “That’s marvelous!”

  “It seems I underestimated them.”

  “Yes, you do that quite a lot,” said Jacob, rubbing just a little quicker as he spoke. Connor expressed his displeasure through a disgruntled facial expression. “It’s true though,” continued Jacob. “You two make a pretty good team from what I can see.”

  “I guess we do.”

  As they sat there in the shade, Jacob meticulously demonstrating to Connor how to take apart and clean a pistol, his mind wandered. He was distracted by thoughts of the future, and not just the distant future, but what would happen the moment he set foot in Mana’s world. He had no idea what was around the corner, nor what he could do to help. Everything was so alien to him now, even his own world. As he watched Jacob clicking gun parts together and polishing with his little cloth, he pictured him in these alternate timelines. Was he under control too, or was he part of the resistance? Was he even alive? These were questions Connor both tried to ignore but also yearned for answers to. He wanted to know, but only if it were good news.

  I’ve just got to take care of people in my own timeline, that’s all I can do, he thought. He had no control over what had passed in the alternate universes, only what could come to pass. As skillful as Jacob was with a firearm, and as blasé as Matt was about danger, he felt a responsibility to keep them safe, despite knowing deep down it was in fact them that had protected him so far.

  By the time two or three hours had passed, Connor was becoming quite adept at disassembling and reassembling his pistol. He called on as much memory of his experience as Red as possible, although the feel of the gun in his hand was much less natural in his own world than in Red’s.

  Edna.

  Every time he thought of her his stomach churned. “If only people knew the truth,” he said, breaking the silence. Jacob looked up quizzically. “About what’s going on at Pure Reality I mean. If people knew the truth they wouldn’t do it. I know they wouldn’t”

  “You can’t say anything, not now.”

  “No, I know. I’ve just got to sit here and bide my time while thousands of innocent people are being killed every day in the name of entertainment.”

  Jacob placed his hand on Connor’s wrist, lowering his gun to the table and drawing eye contact. “It’s not your fault, son,” he said. “I know that every minute that ticks by feels like a wasted one, but you’re doing this as quickly as you can. There’s nothing you can do to move any quicker, and making it public now would just endanger you and everyone around you. Think about it, what would it achieve? No one would believe you.”

  “Maybe they would?”

&n
bsp; “Would you?”

  “I guess I had to see it with my own eyes.”

  “Exactly. People are funny creatures. They go about their lives and despite what they say about caring about others and the planet, all they truly care about is themselves and their offspring.”

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s true! It’s just evolution. The sole reason you’re on this planet is a direct cause of why your parents were on this planet.”

  “To destroy it?”

  “To reproduce! That’s all. No big mystery. You tell the world that Pure Reality is a big conspiracy, who is going to believe you? Who is going to care enough to try and stop it?”

  “I do.”

  “Well maybe that has something to do with who caused it in the first place,” he said, bluntly. “More to the point, how could you prove it? No,” he said, “you have to deal with this. This world can’t help you.”

  Connor sat back, his head falling backward until he was staring at the ceiling of the gazebo. “What if I can’t, dad?” he said, still gazing at the ceiling. “What if I can’t do it?”

  Jacob paused for a moment. “Come with me.”

  They got up and walked into the house, the sun setting behind them. As they reached the study Jacob held open the door and Connor entered, glancing around the room at the incredibly interesting piles of books and memorabilia.

  “You remember this, yes?” asked Jacob, opening the gun cabinet. He reached inside and grabbed a pistol from the rack, then turned to Connor with it held in his two open palms. It was the nickel plated pistol he had been admiring last time he was in the room. He stared at it for at least ten seconds before taking it by the cold grip. It was heavier than the one he had been handling earlier, and narrower. The lights of the study flashed in the nickel as he tilted it from side to side, almost hypnotizing him with its beauty.

  “This is yours now,” said Jacob.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I saw you checking it out last time you were here, so, if you want it, it’s a gift.”

  “This is too much,” he replied genuinely. Of all the guns in the cabinet this was the show piece, the hero.

  “I want you to have it,” he said, turning to another cupboard. After a moment of searching he pulled out a small, black, leather holster and handed it to him. “It’s period,” he said, with a point. “Hip, just like you’ve been using.”

  Connor took a closer look and saw it was beautifully embroidered, the leather embossed with a coat of arms. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, this is just the beginning,” he replied. “I told you last time that I had a few more down in the basement, you remember?”

  Connor nodded slowly as Jacob’s grin grew even wider.

  “Let’s go.”

  22

  “Holy shit, bro.”

  Connor was stood with Jacob in the basement, surrounded by an array of over a hundred automatic, semi-automatic, rocket propelled and antique firearms, holding an eighty year old M249 machine gun. He turned to Matt who had just bundled down the steps, and smiled as he gazed around the room, mouth open.

  “Are you kidding me?” Matt asked quietly, almost to himself.

  “What do you think?” asked Jacob, walking over to him.

  “I, umm, I heard you had guns, but, man this is a f—, this is an armory!”

  Jacob laughed. “You could say that,” he said, looking around proudly with his hands on his hips.

  “How did you get all these?” asked Matt.

  “When the ban came in across the country these were all put up for auction in this state. Rather than bidding for each one I just went to them and offered to buy the job lot. I don’t have much to spend money on so I paid a good price and after that I’ve become a bit of a collector.”

  “No kidding,” said Matt. He walked over to a large black gun on a low, wide stand on the floor. The three legs were stretched out, and the long narrow barrel extended at least a meter from the center. “Is, is this a fifty cal?”

  “Vintage M2 Browning, 1943,” said Jacob, walking over. “Made a hundred and forty years ago. Doesn’t look like a week old, does it?”

  “As if you know what it is, Matt,” said Connor. “Have you ever seen a gun before?”

  “Duh, video games,” he replied, crouching down to get a better look. “Does it work?”

  “It’s one of the only ones I’ve not fired,” replied Jacob. “Bit too scary for an old guy like me. It should do.”

  Matt looked up with an eager expression. “Let’s do it!”

  Connor put down the heavy machine gun he was holding. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, looking at Jacob.

  “Ah, bollocks to that,” said Jacob, wafting his hand. “Let’s have a go. If not now, when else am I going to see this thing in action?”

  “Outranked!” called Matt, who stood up and grabbed hold of the gun. With a loud grunt he yanked it out of its placement and swung it around onto his shoulder, almost hitting Jacob in the face as he did so. Jacob luckily saw it coming and bent backward out of the way, with a laugh of course, clearly excited to share his collection with the two of them.

  “Are you OK to get the stand?” Jacob asked Connor. He folded it up and lifted it onto his shoulder with a thump — it was heavy and cold, the sharp connections on the legs digging into him as he made his way upstairs. Matt was already long gone, possibly having broken into an excited jog, but Connor held back, waiting for Jacob as he took hold of a green metal tin and followed him up the stairs.

  “Alex!” called Jacob as they walked through the kitchen, heading to the back door. In he came, his bow legs moving as quickly as they could. He looked a little cleaner than last time Connor saw him, but still as disheveled. “Do me a favor and go downstairs and grab me three pairs of ear defenders and some gloves from the blue rack. We’ll be down on the fairway.”

  “Fairway?” asked Connor as they stepped out into the garden. “You have a golf course?”

  Jacob chuckled. “You’re really not familiar with this house are you? No, it’s just a part of the garden that looks like a fairway, so that’s what I call it.”

  Connor could see him struggling with the heavy green tin. “Here, let me take that.”

  “It’s good having you all here,” he said, handing over the tin. “Thank you for including me.”

  This show of insecurity from Jacob struck Connor with a pang of emotion. He took an intake of breath and felt his eyes moisten as he blinked. He didn’t know what to say, other than what had already been said. Just that one sentence, which he knew was a genuine show of gratitude, spoke more about his absence than anything could. It wasn’t Jacob’s way to try and make a point indirectly, by saying thank you for something that should have happened anyway. He was always direct, saying things that needed to be said, so Connor knew he was genuinely thankful that they were there and including him, which stung even more. As usual he hid his emotion behind a veil of humor. “It was the pies.”

  Jacob laughed heartily.

  “Seriously though, dad, it wasn’t a charity gesture, there’s no one I need more than someone with your knowledge and experience. The way you’ve dissected the science behind it all has made it reachable for me. Plus there’s this place. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be right now.”

  “I’m sure you can,” said Jacob with a chuckle.

  Matt took the stand from Connor, then jogged back to the gun and began assembling it. The fairway was a long stretch of lawn, with a steep hill at the end. In front of the hill was a series of targets, all of which had seen action.

  “This is the fastest I’ve seen him move,” Connor said to Jacob as he watched Matt messing with the gun. Alex turned up and handed out the ear defenders and gloves, and Connor placed the metal tin on the floor next to Matt.

  “Thanks, bro.”

  “What’s in there?”

  “Ammo.”

  Jacob walked over and clipped the box of amm
unition onto the side of the gun. He opened the lid revealing huge bullets, all linked together in one long chain, and lifting the long plate on the top of the gun he inserted the first round, dragging the rope of bullets behind it. Matt put on his ear defenders and placed one leg either side of the gun, leaning back slightly with both hands holding the grips. He slammed down the plate and pulled hard on a stiff lever on the side.

  “And again,” said Jacob. Matt pulled on it once more and Jacob took a step back.

  “Shouldn’t there be some kinda, you know, shouldn’t we be talking safety or something first?” asked Connor.

  “No, I shouldn’t think so,” said Jacob. “As long as we’re this side of the barrel there’s not much that can go wrong. Plus, I’m sure Matt’s more than capable.”

  “What ammo is it?” asked Matt, readying himself to fire.

  “APT.”

  “Nice!” said Matt.

  “What’s APT?” asked Connor.

  “Armor piercing tracer!” said Matt. “Can I go now?”

  “Do it!” said Jacob.

  Connor scrambled to put on his ear defenders as Matt opened fire. It was exhilarating. Smoke and flames burst from the barrel with every pop, the whole gun shaking rhythmically as he fired, and Connor could see each bullet flying through the air like fireflies. After a few minutes of sporadic firing Matt stopped and took off his ear defenders.

  “That was awesome!”

  Jacob took his fingers out of his ears. “Are you having a go?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Connor. “I think I’m gonna leave you guys to it. How are you getting on?” he asked Matt.

  “Oh yeah, that’s what I was coming to tell you in the basement,” he replied, standing up. “We’re pretty much there, just waiting for a breaker program we coded to finish running and we should be able to, you know, get in there.”

  “You’ve hacked the mainframe?”

  “Wha—? The mainframe?” he scoffed. “What is this? An eighties crime movie?”

  “Well I dunno,” said Connor with a sheepish shrug. “How long?”