by H. G. Nadel
The shadow man didn’t turn. Instead, his hands moved like lightning over the rifle, leaving two magazines in his hand and the denuded weapon on the table. “Ex-cuse me, gentlemen. I leave you to peruse this beauty while I see to the rude interruption.” The men responded with a knowing chuckle, as Larry turned to face not Austin but Julia. “Ah, trying to steal my show by bringing in an even finer piece?” His voice was full of the same silky grace as his hands on the rifle. “And I don’t mean you, Detective Moore, though you are more beautiful than a man ought to be.” The men spluttered with stifled laughter.
“This is my friend Julia. Julz, this is Larry, who isn’t really the sexist pig he seems to be.”
“I was simply being chivalrous,” Larry said. “Pleasure to meet you, fair Juliette.” He shook her hand, and held it firmly. He held her gaze in the same way—not as if he were flirting, but instead testing her somehow. She steeled her will and met his gaze. Suddenly, he let go and broke into a toothpaste-commercial grin. “Please don’t let me give you the impression we’re a men’s club.” He nodded at the two women in the shop. “Ladies frequent our establishment regularly.” He leaned over the counter and whispered near her ear, “But they are not usually so breathtaking.”
Austin gave Larry a friendly shove. “All right, all right. Enough chivalry, bro, we’re here to do some shooting and maybe start the paperwork to buy her a piece.”
“Whoa! Not so fast.” Julia turned to Larry. “Sorry, but guns scare me to death.”
“First things first,” Larry directed. “Come to the back, and we will fill out your paperwork and do a safety briefing.” She followed him through a gap in the counter, and he placed a friendly hand on her arm. “I’m sensing tension, sweet Juliette. Never fear. This is a safe range, and I am a safe man. I have not always been, but that’s another story for another time. We have no accidents here. Right, gentlemen?” He turned to the contingent around the assault rifle, and they all nodded.
After Julia signed a form that said she wouldn’t hold the Silver Bullet Shooting Range liable if she got shot, Larry clapped his hands together. “Brilliant. Now let us proceed!”
The next thing she knew, Julia was standing at the end of a firing lane, wearing noise-canceling headphones and holding a .32 caliber Beretta. Austin had tried to get her to use his more powerful .40 caliber Glock 22, but she’d asked Larry if he had something smaller. After the safety briefing, Austin asked Larry if he had time to give Julia a few pointers.
“I’m all yours,” Larry said.
Julia gave Austin a doubtful look. She was feeling uncomfortable enough without taking tips from this shadowy stranger with magician’s hands.
Austin seemed to read her thoughts. “Larry may seem a little overzealous, but he’s a great teacher. He has a lot of experience,” he lowered his voice, “from both sides of the law—though you didn’t hear that from me. Anyway, he taught me a lot of what I know. But Larry, try not to make up too many excuses to put your arms around her.” He winked at Julia and then stepped back.
Larry explained the parts of the gun and taught her proper hand placement and stance, accurate sighting, and the arc minute. He was impressed that Julia instantly grasped calculating the bullet’s trajectory. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”
“Never. But I am a math geek.”
Larry smiled. “I could have been an intellectual … if I had attended class.”
Julia laughed. Austin was right. He was a good teacher who knew how to put her at ease.
“The key to accurate shooting is to let go of fear so you can focus. A steady shot requires a steady body, steady mind, and steady piece. One thing that helps is to take a deep breath and then let it out very slowly as you gently squeeze the trigger. Are you ready?”
Julia nodded. She was more than ready. Though she had never done this before, the gun felt as light and familiar in her hand as a lab flask, and every movement felt as if she had done it a thousand times. She held the grip with her right hand, supported that hand with her left palm, held the gun steady, closed one eye, and aligned the site with the chest of the human silhouette at the end of the chute. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled as she squeezed the trigger. In that instant, the room around her vanished.
She is standing in front of the castle, in a large open meadow. She’s no longer wearing jeans and a T-shirt but a long, straight, pink gown. Her running shoes have changed to short boots with pointed toes. A golden heart pendant hangs between her breasts, and the sun reflects off of its rubies and sapphires, shattering the light into a hundred translucent reflections. She fits a long arrow into the notch of a bow. She pulls the string and arrow back until they almost touch her cheek. She closes one eye. She lets the arrow fly and hears a swoosh as it parts the air. The swoosh is followed by a loud thunk as it strikes its mark one hundred yards away, sending bits of the target’s hay stuffing flying.
Another bull’s eye.
She lowers the bow and turns to Austin, who stands next to her, applauding. He’s no longer wearing a button-down shirt but a tunic and tights. Julia takes off her pointed hat and bows, and they laugh. But she feels someone watching. She looks up toward a second-story window of the castle. A man in black stares down at her, his lips curling back from his teeth in rage. She’s never seen her uncle look at her like that before.
Julia was jolted back to the Silver Bullet firing range. Her eyes widened as a hole tore through the target, hitting the black silhouette dead-center just as she heard the muffled report of the gun. She lowered the Beretta and stared, stunned. What just happened? She turned to look at Larry and Austin, who were both staring at the target, jaws dropped. Austin slowly clapped his hands. In spite of herself, Julia couldn’t resist taking another bow.
“Outstanding!” said Larry. “Our Juliette, it appears, is what one would call a ‘crack shot.’“
“Could be beginner’s luck,” Austin said, though Julia thought she could hear pride in his voice.
“Luck? I don’t think so.” Larry demurred. He too sounded proud, as if he had been mentoring her for years. “Do it again.”
So she fired again. Bam! Same result. More of the target’s innards ripped away.
“Unbelievable.” Larry let out a low whistle. “I have never seen that kind of accuracy in a beginner.” He turned to Austin. “Shall we wager on the next one?”
“No, I’m convinced.”
“Can I keep going?” Julia asked.
“Again!” Larry demanded.
Both men watched in stunned silence as Julia emptied three clips into the target. She barely registered their presence, feeling only the surge of adrenaline and the kick of the pistol. But she kept it under control, and every shot hit the center of the target.
Thirty minutes later, Austin pulled in the target and handed it to her. She stared at the gaping hole in the silhouette’s chest and looked at Larry, her eyes feverish with excitement. Larry was equally animated.
“I felt like I was waiting for something today,” Larry began. “I believe it was you, Miss Juliette. Follow me. I want to show you something.”
Austin and Julia exchanged a look. What the hell? Larry walked to the rear of the range and beckoned them. Austin shrugged and followed. Julia took one more look at the target in her hand. Another man in black, like Larry, like the old man in the castle—the man who she now remembered.
FIFTEEN
Larry led Julia and Austin to a small workshop in the back. He walked to a drafting table and removed a juice bottle, a half-eaten sandwich, and a bike helmet, revealing a stack of schematic drawings underneath. Julia thumbed through them and handed one to Austin. They appeared to be designs for firearms, from handguns to assault rifles to stuff she didn’t recognize.
“What are you, some sort of gun ninja?” Julia asked.
Larry chuckled. “I’ll confess, I didn’t waste my entire misbegotten youth. When I was sixteen, a justice of the peace gave me a choice: a youth-at-risk boot cam
p or prison. Needless to say, I went to boot camp. While I was there, I met a soldier in the Royal Marines who mentored me and helped me to improve my grades so I could attend university. Four years later, I exited with a degree in mechanical engineering. But weapons are my passion. By day, I teach law enforcement to use weapons safely. By night, I design better ones.”
Larry took the stack of sheets from Julia and flipped through them until he found the one he was looking for, then set the rest down. He handed it to her. Her brow furrowed as she stared at the futuristic weapon. Austin stood next to her, his shoulder brushing hers as they studied the drawing. The weapon had a double barrel: one comically long and the other wide, which made the grip and stock look too short. The whole thing seemed as if it would tip forward, unless the barrel were made of incredibly lightweight material. A small device was drawn flying out of the upper barrel. It didn’t look like a bullet, but like a tiny rocket. A trio of probes protruded from the rocket’s front, and three fins jutted from the back.
“This looks like some sci-fi comic book gadget,” Julia said. “It’s not real, is it?”
“I think it’s a Taser,” Austin said. “But not like any Taser I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s a next-gen wireless Taser. It can shoot farther and faster, with more accuracy, than anything on the market. It has a 500-foot range and a velocity of 700 feet per second.”
Austin exhaled in a low whistle. “Unbelievable. You could make a lot of money with this.”
Larry grinned. “The patent is pending, and I’m preparing to showcase it to two companies.”
“That means you must have a prototype.”
“Absolutely. And I think I may have found the ideal person to demonstrate its unique features.” He looked at Julia.
“Who, me?”
He gave a firm nod, as if he’d been thinking about it for days. He turned to a file cabinet and unlocked it. “This is my pride and joy,” he said, as he eased a 3-D version of his drawing out of the safe, set it on the table, and loaded it with five tiny projectiles.
“You can get five shots off before reloading!” Austin exclaimed. “We only get three with ours.”
“Welcome to the world of tomorrow.” Larry ceremoniously handed the weapon to Julia.
She turned it in her hands, careful to keep the muzzle pointed at the floor as she examined it. It was, as she’d suspected, surprisingly lightweight. And, though the barrel was disproportionately long, the whole weapon was also smaller than she had expected, like a toy rifle. “Why do you want me to test it?”
“Austin confided in me earlier that you needed a little extra protection. Although you demolished that target, I have the impression that you may hesitate with an assailant. In a self-defense situation, hesitation can kill you. This Taser splits the difference nicely, don’t you agree? You can kick ass when necessary without permanently harming anyone. And,” he added with a smile, “I would like you to demonstrate the Taser in my meetings. I am hoping to show there is a large market for these among young women.”
“Thank you,”Julia said gratefully. “Is there anything else you would like me to do?”
“That is sufficient payment. But if Satan’s army shows up between now and then, give them a run for their money. I hear bullets are ineffective at defeating the undead. But perhaps a Taser will be of use.”
Julia looked suspiciously at Austin, but he appeared to be as stunned as she was. He gave his head a quick shake, indicating he hadn’t told his friend anything.
She turned back to Larry. “It’s a deal.”
He held out his hand, and she reached out to shake it. As their hands touched, she felt a stinging zap of static electricity. She pulled her hand back and rubbed it. Larry laughed. “I apologize. The ventilation makes the air too dry. But perhaps it’s a sign of good fortune. Shall we try again?”
She reached out tentatively, and this time his grip was warm, sure, and comforting. When her hand let go of his, it still tingled.
“Juliette,” he said, “my assistant will be angry with me for leaving him alone to close the store.”
“Close? You mean I won’t get any time to practice with this thing?”
“Come back anytime,” Larry said. “But, with the Taser, it’s perfectly legal for you to practice with a tree in your backyard—though I have a feeling you will not require much practice.”
“I don’t have a backyard.”
“I believe Austin does.” Larry winked at his friend.
Larry, Austin, and Julia walked out front into an empty store. Austin fist-bumped his friend, but Julia felt compelled to hug him.
“Thank you, my dear. Keep your spirits high. Remember, even superheroes become afraid. They just don’t let it deter them from their course.”
Julia and Austin walked into the parking lot, where his midnight blue sedan was waiting under a dimly lit streetlight. When she reached for the passenger door handle, Austin said, “Wait a minute, let me get that for you.” He opened her door. “And let me put that in the back.” He took the case from her and threw it in the back seat.
“So chivalrous.” She suppressed a giggle. “Thank
you.”
“My dad taught me to open doors for ladies.”
“Even superheroes?” she smirked at Larry’s parting words.
“You are potentially dangerous, I’ll admit. But I’ll take my chances.” He walked around to the driver’s side and jumped in. “Fasten your seatbelt, Annie Oakley.”
Julia laughed as she buckled up. Then she fell silent for some minutes, staring at the paper target in her hand and running her fingers over the jagged bullet holes. Who would’ve thought she’d be such a good shot? Although the idea of shooting a person still made her cringe, firing the gun had been exciting, and she was proud of her performance.
“That was fun,” she said.
“I’m glad.”
“And weird.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t say anything to Larry about what Dr. Bertel said, or about my off-the-wall theories?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why do you think he said what he did about Satan’s army?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Larry is not only a closet genius, but he’s also into many mystical spiritual practices: Jewish Kabbalah, Buddhist meditation, Christian prayer, Qigong, yoga, you name it.”
“Isn’t that kind of out of the box for a gun nut?”
“I wouldn’t call Larry a gun nut. He’s just fascinated with anything that has unusual power—which I suppose may now include you.”
As they pulled onto the highway and drove along the Pacific coast, Julia leaned her head against the window. As frightened as she was over what had happened with Bertel, she couldn’t help being happy in this peaceful bubble of a moment. The sky opened up, and the sunset was a glorious spill of blood red and deep purple on the water, which glistened like an emerald.
“You know, in this light, Julia, the ocean matches your eyes. They remind me ofjewels …” His voice trailed off as a puzzled look overtook his face. She wondered what he was thinking. She was thinking of the jeweled heart pendant from her dream.
As they drove through town, she spotted Shakes and wondered if Tyler was there. For a moment she felt guilty, but that guilt was now swallowed up in the happiness she felt. When they paused at a red light in front of Shakes’ full parking lot, she looked for Tyler’s Mustang.
Suddenly, a large thump snapped her to attention, as a man leaped onto the hood of Austin’s SUV, pressed his palms against the driver’s side of the windshield, and stared at Austin. His eyes were bloodshot to the point that no white was visible. He looked as if he were out of his mind. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. “We’ll have you by the balls again!” he screamed. “And this time, you are going to die!” He punched his fist into the glass with such force that the glass shattered. The man’s fist came all the way through, reaching for Austin. Julia screamed.
Austin h
it the gas, and the SUV lunged forward, speeding for half a block. Their attacker actually held onto the edges of the broken glass with one bloody hand, snarling like a rabid dog as he reached into the car with the other hand and grabbed Austin by the throat. Austin hit the brakes so hard that the attacker flew off the car and slammed into the road, rolling several times. A car coming the other way swerved to avoid him. Austin skidded on the brakes to help the assailant just as he jumped to his feet and ran across the street, disappearing between a strip mall and a row of bushes. Julia unbuckled her seat belt and reached into the back seat for the Taser.
“Julia, stop! He’s gone!” Austin reached over and pulled her back into the seat. Then he turned the car into the Shakes parking lot and parked. A couple dozen teenagers had wandered outside to see what was going on.
“Are you okay?” Austin asked Julia.
“Yeah. Are you?”
“Yeah,” he said, though he was covered with blood and broken glass.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s not that bad,” he said.
“It looks bad.”
“You’d be surprised how often this happens in my line of work,” he said.
“Oh, so you deal with crazy-ass druggies jumping onto your car regularly?”
A grin spread across his face as he grabbed the handset of his police radio from the center console and called dispatch. “This is Detective Moore reporting a 918V. Please send a unit to Shakes Restaurant. And dispatch paramedics. The perp left the scene, but he’s severely injured, and I don’t think he’ll get far.”
Julia sat dry-eyed and silent, staring at the jagged hole in the windshield. In a moment, Austin stood next to her in the open passenger doorway, holding out his hand. “Come on, Julia. Can you stand?”
“What? Sure.” She was surprised when she stepped out of the car and felt her legs buckle underneath her. Austin grabbed her as she fell, then put an arm under hers for support. She leaned against his chest and started to cry. He put his arms around her and held her.
