Raising Avon

by Rebekah Shelton

Chapter 7

  After breakfast the following Wednesday, Iramy stood and started walking towards the exterior door of the kitchen. "Before Avon starts running tomorrow again, I want to show you something. Follow me," she said gravely and veiled. Jeremy and Avon looked at each other and shrugged in confusion. Neither knew what Iramy was about to do. They shrugged again with raised brows and acquiesced.

  Iramy led Avon and Jeremy out the rear of the mansion and towards the garden. Both followed silently. While curious, both trusted Iramy implicitly. Iramy walked through the rows of vegetables. Minutes later she entered the greenhouse. She walked to the far corner and stopped. Still silent and safeguarded, she reached behind the hydroponic planter and pushed a concealed button. Avon and Jeremy watched in silence as the water disappeared and the bottom of the planter revealed a keypad lock.

  Iramy reached down and entered a twelve digit code and the lock released. She pulled the handle, lifting the trap door. Avon and Jeremy stared in shock at the steps leading to a cavern below. Iramy pushed another hidden button on the back side of the planter and a light at the bottom of the stairs illuminated a concrete tunnel. Avon looked at Iramy as if asking a question, silently asking for more information, for an answer to the unasked question. What is this? Iramy never answered.

  "After you," Iramy motioned to Jeremy and Avon with a roguish grin. Jeremy took the lead and descended the steep staircase. Avon followed. When they both reach the bottom, they looked around confused. Both looked around seeing only two doors, one on each side of the staircase.

  Seconds later Iramy was standing beside them. "Everything you need for weapons training is here," she advised them. Iramy moved forward to the door on the right of the staircase. She placed her hand on a scanner and then entered another twelve digit code. Passing the first two levels of security the metal door opened revealing a small entrance way and another metal door, this one much larger and with a bank style lock, a vault. Iramy approached the door and pushed another code into a keypad. A retina scanner appeared. Iramy leaned forward and allowed her right eye to be scanned. The lock on the second door released with a loud click. Iramy pulled the door open. As she did the lights in the vault illuminated.

  Jeremy and Avon peered inside. Jeremy was shocked to see so many types of weapons. Avon was shocked to discover her father had so many types of weapons. Jeremy smiled. Avon could only gasp in disbelief.

  "Your father has been collecting weapons for a very long time. Some are just for show. The rest are for protection."

  "But why out here?" Avon asked. She did not know about the collection.

  "The General starting collecting for fun before you were born. Then he started collecting for protection when you were quite young. But he was afraid to store them inside the house. He had this bunker and vault built while you were still a baby."

  "But why a bunker?"

  Iramy paused to collect her thoughts. "It's a dangerous world out there," she finally stated sadly. "If the galaxy went to hell in a hand basket, he wanted to know his family was safe; that you were safe."

  "So he collected weapons?" Avon asked still confused.

  "And he had the bunker built."

  "Is that what is behind the other door?" Jeremy inquired. While an outsider, not family, he was still curious. He was learning things about General Jax Zadoorian he never imagined. Yes, the General was the consummate military man but he was also a father, a provider and a protector for his family, his daughter. He was sentimental, a collector.

  "Yes," Iramy confirmed. "But I must swear you both to secrecy. You mustn't tell anyone. It's too dangerous."

  Avon looked at Jeremy and then back to Iramy. She had known Iramy all her life and Iramy's tone clearly showed fear and distrust. Avon was confused. She knew there was more Iramy was not revealing but she knew with Jeremy there she could not ask more. She knew Iramy had already exposed more than she had felt safe.

  Jeremy started looking at the collection of antique weapons; pistols, assault rifles and revolvers from the twentieth century. He became as excited as a child in a toy store. He was a soldier and these were the ultimate toys of his trade. He had seen many weapons on display in the small Academy Museum. But he had never seen some of the items on hooks, artfully displayed and touchable. Jeremy smiled when he saw the first laser weapon proudly exhibited. There were even more primitive weapons such as bows and quivers filled with arrows, swords, and spears. The collection showed the advancement of weaponry over several centuries. His eyes darted from wall to wall trying to take it all in before he woke up, to discover it was all a dream.

  "You can use the weapons over here," Iramy announced as she motioned to open racks of weapons; some old, some modern. "There is a shooting range on the back side of the vault. You have to go through the family bunker to get to it."

  "A certified firing range?" Jeremy muttered in disbelief.

  "For all weapons," Iramy chuckled. "But for bow or swords, I'd suggest going outside. It's much more fun in a natural setting."

  Avon was surprised. "You know how to use a bow?"

  Iramy started laughing. The sound was light and delightful. "I learned when I was a child. I am or was quite adept with both a bow and a sword. Your father and I would occasionally spar when you were little. There is nothing more exhilarating than a sword fight; the weight of the sword in your hand; the clank of the metal making contact; the swish of the air. It's really quite invigorating."

  Avon took a long look at Iramy as if she was seeing her for the first time. She had always seen Iramy has a quiet, docile teacher and homemaker; not a fighter.

  "I have some secrets of my own," Iramy giggled. "Maybe someday..." She did not finish. The smile left her face. Only sadness and gloom remained. "Let me unlock the door to the family quarters," Iramy offered as a distraction to the memories now racing through her mind. Memories she hoped she would never have to share; memories she hoped she would take to her grave. Silently and quickly she prayed that it would be so.

  Jeremy's head moved erratically around the room trying to decide which weapons to start with. After weighing all the options, he picked a standard issue laser, a Solarian spear and then with a mischievous grin he reached for an obsolete assault rifle, circa 2010. As his hand touched the cold black metal, he glanced at Iramy as if asking for permission. Iramy smiled in approval. "The bullets are in the drawer below."

  Jeremy opened the drawer and saw several thousand rounds of ammunition for the assault rifle. He reached down and pulled out a small box holding only fifty rounds and an empty clip. "I've always wanted to fire one of these," he smirked.

  Iramy laughed and took the rifle from Jeremy. "Give that thing to me before you hurt someone. Let me show you a thing or two." Iramy pointed the weapon away from everyone and check the chamber to ensure it was empty. "The safety is on the right. After you insert the clip, pull back on the slide and load the first round. Use your thumb to release the safety and then fire."

  Iramy held the rifle against her shoulder. "Pull it in tight or it will bounce back and inflict a bruise the size of a Glorcan parsnip. This weapon has quite a kick."

  "I'm sure I can handle it," Jeremy smirked with a large dose of confidence mixed with arrogance.

  "I was going to head back to the house and read," Iramy laughed, shaking her head from side to side. "But I think I'll hang around. I'll grab the first aid kit on the way through. I'm sure you'll need a lesson or two on how to aim and how to pull the trigger."

  "How hard can it be?" Jeremy smirked again.

  Iramy was laughing so hard she had to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Modern weapons are mainly point and push. These archaic weapons require skill and truth be told women were better shots than men. They have better breath control."

  Jeremy growled. "Are you saying you're a better marksman than me?"

  "Yes," Iramy stated nonchalantly with a deadpan stare. "But how
about a friendly wager? Since neither you or Avon have ever fired this weapon before, let's have a contest."

  "What do you have in mind?" Jeremy asked.

  "I'll show you both how to aim and fire this weapon. The one with the better score gets to do whatever he or she wants for twenty-four hours and the other has to do whatever the winner says."

  "So if I win, he has to do whatever I want him to?" Avon asked. She was brimming with excitement, her mind already spinning with possibilities.

  "And if I win?" Jeremy retorted with confidence. "It's on!"

  "Grab two more boxes of ammo and a couple of clips," Iramy smiled.

  "Will the General be okay with us using so many bullets?"

  "We'll collect the spent rounds. I know a guy who does reloads," Iramy replied as if it were nothing. "This is going to be fun." Avon grabbed the ammo and clips. Together the three left the vault and walked to the entrance of the family bunker. Iramy entered an eight digit code. "It's my mother's birthday," she explained. "02022295."

  Avon looked at Iramy. Iramy had never talked about her mother, her family. It was odd, bordering on awkward. Of course Avon suddenly wanted to ask a million questions. But she knew instinctively not to ask. She knew Iramy must have a good reason to keep her past a secret.

  When the door to the family bunker opened, Avon's eyes went wide. She had expected a sterile, maybe military styled quarters but instead she saw a warm, cozy, comfortable living space.

  "The main room doubles as a lounge and kitchen. There are three bedrooms. They are small but comfortable. The bunker is self-sufficient with power, water, and recycled air. It will withstand any natural disaster or chemical attack. Even if Lorian City takes a direct attack, we'll survive."

  "Food?" Jeremy inquired.

  "Six months worth and a full medical contingency," Iramy replied.

  "You think the General will adopt me?" Jeremy joked with a chuckle. "This is quite the setup."

  "You could always apply to be his personal assistant."

  Jeremy sneered. "A keypad pusher?"

  "I bet he'd let you live at the mansion," Iramy laughed again. "Or you can stay your course and head out into the galaxy on a warship." Of course, she knew Jeremy would take the assignment on a warship. It was his ticket to his next promotion.

  Jeremy did not reply. He shook his head quickly and exhaled. The contrasts between his life and Avon's continued to amaze him. He wondered how many other secrets the General had. He followed Avon while she peeked into one of the bedrooms. While small compared to bedrooms inside the mansion, it was three times the size of the shack Jeremy shared with his mother in the slums.

  The room was furnished sparsely; a double bed, a dresser with a vanity style mirror and overhead commercial lighting. The walls were painted a soft white and the linens were solid white with a dark blue industrial blanket. The bed was made with hospital corners, tight like at the Academy. A set of curtains hung above the head of the bed as if covering a window. Of course, there was no window. Across the top was an upholstered cornice matching the curtains. Avon's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "It hides a special light which can be programmed to simulate the sunrise. It's on a timer," Iramy explained. "It helps diffuse depression from not knowing when sunrise and sunset is. Many survivalists use these in their bunkers."

  "How do you know about all this doomsday stuff?" Jeremy asked.

  "The General and I did a lot of research when he decided to build the bunker. We read everything we could get our hands on. We had to balance comfort with necessities; a utilitarian design with a few creature comforts."

  Avon glanced at the free standing wardrobe just inside the room. There were no other doors, no closet. As if reading Avon's mind, Iramy answered the unasked question, "There's a communal bathroom on the other side."

  Avon grimaced at the thought of sharing a bathroom. It was hard enough sharing a 'Jack and Jill' style bathroom with three other cadets at the Academy. She did enjoy her spa-like en suite. She started to wonder how many more years she would have at the mansion. After the Academy, where would life lead her? Would she be assigned to a cushy job in a cube farm or to a ship traveling through the galaxy?

  Jeremy noticed the floor was concrete with a scattering of area rugs. The rooms were brightly lit and the furniture practical. While sparse and minimalist in design, the bunker would ensure the survival of its occupants. It would provide for all their needs. "Impressive," he muttered.

  "So, are you two ready to be wowed by a real rifle?" Iramy laughed.

  Avon and Jeremy nodded and followed Iramy to the back side of the bunker and into the firing range. Over a thousand yards in length, it was designed for all types of weapons. Iramy walked to a control panel on the entrance wall and keyed in a few codes. "Five hundred feet will be good since you're both beginners."

  Three targets moved forward from the far wall and stopped at the five hundred feet mark. The lights behind the targets extinguished leaving only the lights between the trio and the targets illuminated.

  "Let's put ten rounds in the clips," Iramy instructed. "It will leave forty for the wager."

  After a few failed attempts by Jeremy and Avon, Iramy showed them how to place the rounds into the clips. "Before we fire any real bullets, let me show you a few basics; how to hold the weapons, how to release the safety and most importantly how to aim. Rule number one - never point a weapon, whether loaded or not, at anything you don't plan on shooting, ergo, aim down range. Put the rifle on the counter and step back. I'm going to teach you how to breathe."

  "I think we already know how to breathe," Jeremy stated impatiently. He was ready to fire the rifle.

  "But can you control it?" Iramy asked, equally impatient.

  Jeremy did not reply.

  "Hold your arm out like this," Iramy demonstrated with her right arm straight out in front of her, elbow locked, her arm at a ninety-degree angle from the floor. "Extend your index finger towards the target with your thumb towards the ceiling."

  Avon and Jeremy mimicked Iramy's stance. "Point your finger at the bull's eye. Inhale and watch your arm rise. Exhale and watch your arm fall. If you can't control your breath, your shots will be all over the place."

  Avon and Jeremy inhaled and exhaled several times and realized Iramy was correct. "It's not like a laser where you can see where you are aiming. Firing a rifle requires skill and control. There are quite a few variables," Iramy continued to explain. "Now you need to find your sweet spot, the place where your body is relaxed while exhaling half way. Let me show you."

  Iramy opened a drawer beneath the counter and pulled out a small battery operated laser pointed, like one used by instructors. She turned it on and Avon and Jeremy watched as she inhaled, exhaled half way, held her breath and pretended to fire at the target down range. "You have to find your sweet spot and find it every time."

  Iramy put the pointer down and picked up the rifle. She showed them how to hold the rifle. "You need to pull it tight into the pocket of your shoulder. If you don't you'll get knocked on your ass... and the bruise will have you crying for days. Now you need to learn how to pull the trigger. One - use the pad of your finger. If you use too much of your fingertip, your shot will pull to the right. Two - pull back slow and even; don't jerk it back. It should be a surprise when it fires; don't anticipate the shot or you'll miss the target."

  "So if we do all that, we just point and shoot?" Avon asked.

  "No," Iramy while stated shaking her head. "You have to line up the sights with the target. See the "U" shape sight on the back of the barrel and the raised tip at the front of the barrel? You want to fill the "U" with the front sight. The top edges of both should be flush across the top."

  Jeremy smirked and nodded. "How hard can it be? Breathe, aim, squeeze. Piece of cake."

  "You think so, cowboy?" Iramy laughed. She was laughing so hard she had to hold her side; it actually hurt.
"Okay, you're first." Iramy reached back into the drawer of the counter and pulled out three pairs of safety glasses and three sets of ear plugs. "You'll need these," she advised. "The last thing you need is to burn your eye on a hot piece of ejected brass and the noise can be deafening."

  After donning the safety equipment, Iramy picked up a clip with ten rounds and loaded the rifle. She ensured the safety was engaged. Then she handed the rifle to Jeremy.

  Jeremy pulled the rifle into his shoulder, exhaled and aimed. He pulled back on the trigger; nothing happened.

  "Use your thumb and release the safety," Iramy giggled as she heard Jeremy grunt.

  Jeremy reached up with his thumb and disengaged the safety. Without warning the weapon discharged. Even with the ear plugs, the blast was loud. Avon jumped back three feet. Jeremy nearly pissed his pants.

  "What are you trying to kill?" Iramy screamed. "Never have your finger on the trigger unless you're ready to fire! And you weren't ready to fire! What the frack are you shooting at; an invisible rat on the ceiling or a secret assassin?"

  "It was an accident!" Jeremy screamed in frustration.

  Iramy grabbed the rifle out of Jeremy's hand. "There is no such thing as an accident when handling a loaded weapon. My life isn't going to cut short by some arrogant Captain, who thinks he knows everything. Let me show you how this is done."

  Iramy pointed the rifle down range and flip the safety to the 'on' position. Then she removed the clip from the rifle. After putting it on the table, she pulled back on the slide and ensured there were no rounds in the chamber. "Give me my clip," she demanded, glaring at Jeremy with disdain. Jeremy moved slowly and sheepishly and picked up the clip. Iramy took the clip from his proffered hand. "Safety is on," she showed him and inserted a fresh clip. She pulled back on the slide and loaded the first round into the chamber. "Now I am going to click off the safety. As you can see my finger is not on the trigger. Now I am going to show you how this is done."

  Iramy pulled the rifle into her shoulder and took a couple of cleansing breaths to calm herself. On the fourth exhale she gently squeezed the trigger. The first round landed in the ten ring of the target. She squeezed off the remaining nine rounds and lowered the weapon. "That my friends, is how it is done." All ten rounds were in the ten ring.

  "Damn," Avon exclaimed, jumping up and down with excitement. "Where did you learn to shoot like this?"

  "First as a child and then with your father," Iramy replied. "We knew we had to be ready for anything, everything." Iramy stopped, knowing she could reveal nothing more.

  "So Captain, would you like to try again?"

  Jeremy nodded with his eyes not meeting Iramy's. Iramy could see he had been successfully humbled and was a bit frightened by her and the weapon. She could see his hands shaking slightly as she handed the weapon back to him. "Check the safety and the chamber," she reminded him.

  Jeremy followed all of Iramy's directions exactly. He readied to take his next shot. Unfortunately, he was still nervous and anticipated the recoil. The round landed in the lower left-hand corner of the target. "Close one eye and aim again," Iramy instructed. "This time don't anticipate the shot. Concentrate on aiming for the target."

  Jeremy's third round landed in the seven-ring, still slightly down and left. "Take your time," Iramy groaned. "We're not in a firefight. First you learn to shoot and then life takes its own course. In real life, you point and shoot when the enemy is running around trying to kill you. Only sharpshooters and snipers have the time to aim and fire. But you have to know how to aim. It will come in handy when life gets real or if you're hunting for food."

  It took at least seven more minutes for Jeremy to discharge the last seven rounds. He got closer to the ten ring but never landed a shot inside the bull's eye.

  Avon took the weapon next. Taking her first shot, it landed up and right. "Are you trying to compensate for Jeremy's shots?" Iramy asked. "You need to line up your own shots. Every person is different."

  Avon took the next nine shots and ended up with a pattern much like Jeremy's. "The contest is going to be close," Iramy laughed. "Who wants to go first?"

  "I will," Avon volunteered and removed her spent clip. She reloaded and readied to fire. "I'll turn on the scoring," Iramy smiled and pushed a few more buttons. "But I won't display the score so Jeremy won't know. No one will know until you both finish."

  Avon took a deep breath and starting firing. After several minutes, her clip was empty. "That was fun," she exclaimed, "Exhilarating!" Avon ejected the clip, set the safety and checked the chamber for any life rounds. When she was finished, she handed the rifle to Jeremy.

  "Good luck," she whispered.

  Jeremy took the rifle. "No luck needed," he stated trying to find his confidence. He inserted a new clip, clicked off the safety and starting firing. Soon he was finished.

  "Before I reveal the scores, there is one more rule of the range," Iramy started explaining. "After we collect the brass, we have to clean the weapon. I'll walk you through it. But the person with the lowest score always cleans weapons; always. And I already know it won't be me. I'll finish my clip after the two of you pick up your brass and place them back into the box, firing pin down."

  Avon and Jeremy did as Iramy instructed and then Iramy laughed. "My turn," she giggled. "This is my favorite weapon of all time. I've run thousands of rounds through it. Stand back. I'm ready to rock and roll."

  Iramy took aim. "Headshot," she called out and put ten rounds in the head portion of the silhouette. "Bull's eye," she exclaimed and emptied twenty rounds into the bull's eye. "And never ever screw with me," she exclaimed and emptied the last ten rounds in the crotch area of the target. "Or I'll blow your balls off," she laughed.

  "Damn woman," Jeremy exclaimed in awe and in fear. "Remind me never piss you off when you armed. You are dangerous."

  Iramy shrugged and grinned. "Lots of practice. It's my favorite pastime."

  "Will you teach us more?" Avon asked. "Maybe teach me how to use a sword?"

  "Sure," Iramy replied. "Jeremy is good with a laser and spear. He can teach you how to use them. For the more ancient weapons, I'm your girl."

  "So when do we see who won?" Jeremy asked.

  "First I'd like to hear what the two of you have planned for one another," Iramy suggested with a smirk. "It will make the anticipation more fun."

  "I'm thinking a day of intense training," Jeremy pondered aloud.

  "Is that all you can come up with? More training?" Avon asked. "I'm thinking about sleeping in, no training and a little humiliation. Maybe I'll have you take a real bath with bubbles. Yeah, that would be fun. And shopping. We're going shopping. You need some real clothes. Clothes not sold in the ICE clothing store."

  "Why would I need civilian clothes? I'm on duty 24/7."

  "Not really," Iramy grinned. "Even I know that in your home, you can be out of uniform. It might be a good thing for you to remember you haven't been a soldier your entire life."

  "What are you looking at?" Jeremy scowled, watching Iramy give him the once over, twice.

  "You, Captain Hanson," Iramy grinned salaciously. "You're a good looking man with a great body. You could do well with the ladies. I just imagine you in something other than PT clothes. They are your go-to outfit."

  "I'm a soldier. I don't need anything else."

  "I need some clothes which fit and I could use a few things for our camping trip," Avon suggested. "If I win, we are definitely going shopping."

  "Well, I doubt you did," Jeremy smirked. "So get ready to work out all day tomorrow and eat everything I do; as much as I do."

  "Get ready then," Iramy smiled. "On three, I'll display the scores. One, two, three." Iramy pushed the button and the score illuminated above each of their targets; 251 to 261.

  "It looks like Avon got one more bull's eye than Jeremy. She wins," Iramy smiled. She was nearly beaming.


  "I want a recount," Jeremy demanded.

  "The scoring system is one hundred percent accurate," Iramy stated as she watched Avon try to remain composed and not gloat. Avon could barely contain her excitement.

  "We're going shopping and then you are taking a bubble bath with candles and everything. This is going to be so much fun," Avon exclaimed gleefully. "I'm thinking pastels."

  "Oh hell no," Jeremy growled. "There is no way in hell I am wearing anything pink."

  "I think you would look lovely in pink."

  "Lovely?" Jeremy snarled. "Pink and lovely are not in my vocabulary."

  "We'll worry about it tomorrow," Iramy stated firmly, effectively quieting the argument between Avon and Jeremy. "First we need to collect the rest of the brass and clean this weapon before we return it to the vault. Avon, grab the brass. Jeremy, let me instruct you on the breakdown and cleaning of the rifle. Fair is fair."

  "Yes ma'am," Jeremy acquiesced. He had respected Iramy before but now knowing how lethal she could be, he knew better than to argue with her. He prized his family jewels too much.

  While Iramy and Jeremy were cleaning the rifle, Avon decided to explore the family bunker. She entered each of the bedrooms and noticed there were no personal clothing, only utilitarian style sweats, and medical style scrubs in various sizes both male and female. She took stock of the small office set up in the corner of the lounge with several types of communication devices, some modern, some antique. She wondered if all of them still worked. She noticed there were no personal items, no mementos, no photos. She realized she had never seen a photo of her mother.

  As a child, she had quickly learned not to ask about her mother. The subject was strictly taboo. She knew absolutely nothing about her mother; her name, where she was from, nothing. It was if she had never existed. Maybe it was too difficult for her father to talk about, to remember. Avon knew only one thing about Iramy's mother, her birth date. She knew nothing about her own mother, not even when she died or why.

  Despite Iramy never talking to Avon about her own mother, knowing Iramy's mother's birthday now made her real; tangible. It made Avon wondered if she actually had a mother. Why did she know nothing about her? Was she real? Was Avon real? She knew she did not resemble her father in any physical aspect. Yet there were photos showing the two of them together almost from the day she was born. Avon shuddered as she pulled herself back to reality, back to the present.

  Thirsty, Avon walked into the storeroom and saw more freeze dried rations than she could have imagined. Cases upon cases lined the walls, stacked to the ceiling. Further down the room she saw toiletries, cleaning supplies, and medical supplies. Her father had thought of everything. She found stacks of purified water and grabbed three bottles. Looking around one more time, she walked back to the firing range.

  Just as she entered, undetected, she heard Iramy speak in a hushed tone and backed up. "She's been through four weeks of hell with you. It's only twenty-four hours, less if she sleeps in. Dig deep and find a little humility. I think it will do you both a world of good. The two of you might even find a way to end this feud and become a team. You still have two more months on this assignment. Do you really want to spend it being hateful and miserable?"

  "No," Jeremy whispered. "But I don't have to like what she had might have planned."

  "Don't discount her, Captain Hanson," Iramy suggested. "Avon's not a bad person. She's been raised to be polite and considerate of other's needs. I've never known her to be vindictive. To be honest, I think she learned that trait from you."

  "Are you saying this is my fault?"

  "You sow what you reap," Iramy stated smugly. "You want to be treated with respect you have to give respect. Regardless of the military rank, you are both people first. Respect her for who she is. Stop hating her for being born into this family. It's not her fault."

  "I'm sorry but I don't know if I can."

  "The sooner you knock the chip you're carrying off your shoulder, the sooner you'll find happiness."

  Avon back up a few feet and pretended to be crossing the outer room before entering. "Hey, I got us some water," she called out announcing her entry.

  Iramy and Jeremy stared at each other wondering if Avon had heard any of their conversation. "I could use some water," Jeremy replied softly. "Thank you."

  Iramy smiled discretely. Maybe her little talk had helped; at least a little. Regardless, it was a start.