The sun rises higher in the sky, causing the temperature to increase, forcing me to remove my leather jacket and stuff it in the satchel. Sweat pours down my face right into my eyes, along with a river running into my boots from my legs. I have to suppress the strong desire to take off my boots and walk home barefoot.
All sorts of deadly creatures live in the desert and not all of them are visible.
As thirst and heat begin to get the better of me, I finally spot the turn off for home. I drag my sore hot body down the lone driveway, eyeing not the house, but the water barrel along the south side of the property.
Dropping the satchel to the ground, I open the spigot and drink as much as my stomach will hold, drenching my face and hair in an effort to cool the outer layer of skin. I shut off the flow, pick the satchel back up, and go inside the house, listening as Devlan putters around in his workroom below. I should go there first, but my clothes are soaking, which makes my first priority a change in attire. In the bathroom I discard every piece clinging to me then step quickly into the small hallway, diving into my room as I hear Devlan open the pantry door.
“Meg, is that you?”
“Yes. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Okay.”
I know the remainder of the day will be dedicated to my training, so I put on cotton shorts, a tank top, brush out my hair, secure it back into a ponytail, and slip on my running shoes. I go to fetch the satchel that I dropped on the couch in the living room, but it’s not there. Devlan tosses me my jacket just as I’m entering the kitchen, the satchel resting in his lap.
“Go out back and start setting up, I’ll be out there shortly,” he says, standing up and heading to the pantry door.
I exit the back door, walk down the steps, and over to the clapboard storage shed that leans against the house. Inside sits one working battle droid, five ten-pound boulders, random scraps of metal, several detonators, and an arm brace for the Beta gun.
I set out the boulders in a semi-circle thirty yards from the house, placing a detonator on top of each. I head back to the shed and drag out the battle droid, along with my arm brace. I slide the sleeve of the brace up my right bicep, securing it in place by a thick black Velcro strap, making sure the rest of the brace, which is used to help steady my aim, is not too tight around my arm. Although the Beta gun is lightweight, the toll it takes on my body when using it causes muscle spasms, and the brace is there to prevent too much movement. The last strap I secure is the glove around the palm of my hand, into which I wiggle my fingers, checking my circulation.
As I begin to work the knobs on the battle droid to get it functioning, Devlan steps out with the Beta gun and a newly repaired Levin gun.
“Don’t fuss with that,” he says, as he swipes at the droid. “Let’s see how this goes today before we bother with that junk.”
I leave the droid and walk over to the small wicker table that sits on the edge of the cracked terra cotta patio. Devlan sets each gun down as well as a small first aid kit that he has tucked under his arm. I pick up the Beta gun and examine the energy chamber in the handle, but notice it’s empty.
“Devlan, I can’t use this,” I say, as I hold up the gun for him to inspect. “It hasn’t been charged.”
“I know.”
I look at him quizzically, trying to ascertain his motive for giving me an unloaded weapon. “What do you expect me to do with it?”
“Well, for starters, I want you to use the Levin gun.” He picks it off of the table, handing it to me, and removes the Beta gun from my other hand. “After that we’ll see what happens.”
“Happens? Happens with what?”
“Oh, I removed all the safety features from the Levin gun.”
“You did what?” I shout at him. “I’ll blow my arm off if I try and use it without those.”
“I have a theory.”
“You and your theories! What makes you think any of your theories will work? When have they ever worked?”
Devlan looks genuinely pained at my comment.
I feel guilty for saying it, but it’s the truth.
His theories have rarely worked. Sometimes I’ve felt like nothing more than his own personal experiment, watching, waiting to see how my body will respond to his various forms of torture. The removal of the safety attributes for the gun is most worrisome. The energy the gun produces is beyond destructive. The Beta gun will simply put small holes in the items it hits, but the Levin gun will create a much bigger blast hole, even with the safety features on. If they are off, it can cause its target to shatter, no matter the size.
The power is beyond control without the needed protections.
I reluctantly look at the gun in my hand, sigh in assent, and slide the handle of the weapon into the grip of my glove, listening for the click as the nodules on the grip sync with the ports in the glove.
With the safety features disabled, pressure begins
