Not great for rifles, Aaron thought, but okay for pistols. He was pleased, however, to see that the range had a rudimentary target carrier system for loading fresh targets — a major convenience.
Needles stepped into the shooting booth and pulled out his 9mm pistol. He released the magazine into his palm and handed the gun to Aaron.
'Have you ever held a gun before, kid?' Needles asked, feeding shells into the magazine.
Aaron hefted the pistol and was surprised by the weight. 'Not a real one,' he said. He sighted down the gun's impressive gunmetal-steel barrel. 'It feels really good.'
'They used to recommend that you leave two or three rounds out of the magazine when not using the gun to extend the life of the spring,' Needles explained. 'But the newer springs are stronger, so I go ahead and top it off.' He showed Aaron how to lock the magazine into the handle, and then he set the pistol aside and picked up an assault rifle.
'Okay, now pay attention,' he said. 'This weapon is a bit more complicated.' He released the large curved magazine. 'You insert the loaded magazine into the slot here below the trigger. Push it up from the bottom until the catch engages. Slap the bottom of the magazine up into the weapon to ensure that it stays, and then pull down on it to be sure.'
Needles finished the demonstration and handed the rifle and magazine to Aaron. 'Go ahead and try loading it.'
Aaron looked the magazine over, then slid it into the magazine-well and clicked it home. Then he slapped it hard and gave it a tug to make sure it was seated.
'Nicely done, kid,' Needles said.
Aaron handed the rifle back and Needles set it aside.
'Do you want to try a few shots?' he asked.
Aaron hadn't dreamed that Needles would actually let him shoot. 'Sure, of course,' he replied, excited.
'Leave the guns where they are for a second, okay?'
'Okay.'
Needles lit a second lantern and walked it down to the target end of the firing lane. He placed the lantern on a wooden shelf next to the target and adjusted its placement for the best light. Then he returned to the firing booth to show Aaron how to use the target retrieval system.
The simple system consisted of a spring-clip tied to a length of clothesline looped through two pulleys, one at each end of the firing lane, allowing the shooter to reel in the targets for inspection and replacement.
'Pull on the bottom line to bring in the target,' Needles said.
Aaron pulled the rope and a tattered target with most of its bull's-eye blown away came reeling toward him. Needles selected a fresh target from a nearby stack and had Aaron clip it in place.
'Okay, now send it back down,' Needles said.
Aaron pulled on the upper line, and the fresh target receded into the distance.
'You'll feel a tug when the stop-knot hits home,' Needles said.
Aaron continued to pull on the rope until he felt some resistance. 'I think it stopped,' he said.
'Okay,' Needles said. 'Here, you'll want these.' He handed him a pair of sound-deadening earmuffs and Aaron clamped them over his ears. Then he handed him the 9mm and showed him how to release the safety. Aaron held the gun toward the target.
'Use your other hand for support,' Needles said.
Aaron wrapped his left hand around his right.
'Excellent. Go ahead and take a couple of shots.'
Aaron slowed his breathing, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.
POP!
'Wow,' Aaron said, looking at Needles for approval. 'It has a kick.'
Needles nodded. 'You'll have to allow for it when you fire several shots in succession.' Aaron recalled how the better video games simulated that effect.
'Go ahead,' Needles said. 'Fire at will.'
Aaron steadied himself then fired off round after round until he emptied the gun.
'Good,' Needles said. 'Let's check your aim.' He tugged the line and the target moved toward them. Aaron was excited to see that his shot grouping was tight around the bull's-eye.
'Nice shooting,' Needles said, surprised. ' Very nice. Do you want to try the rifle?'
'No way… really?'
Needles took the pistol from Aaron and picked up the assault rifle. He helped Aaron place his hands in the correct positions on the weapon.
Aaron hefted it and smiled.
Needles clipped a fresh target to the string and wheeled the target down the lane into position. 'You may want to rest this gun on a sandbag,' he said, pulling one over. 'Fire quick bursts at first to get the feel of it. It will wander on you if you're not careful. Just give the trigger a quick squeeze and release.'
Aaron adjusted his earmuffs, and then he rested the barrel of the rifle on the sandbag, aimed down range, and with as much confidence as he could muster, squeezed the trigger.
POPOPOP!
The barrel kicked skyward, and three bullets splintered the wooden ceiling joists.
'Holy cow!' Aaron exclaimed, embarrassed to discover that he wasn't the marksman he thought he'd be.
Needles laughed and helped him get back into position.
– Needles continued to work with Aaron until he was satisfied that Aaron could safely handle both guns.
'You're a natural,' Needles said. 'You could easily hold your own in a fight.'
Aaron glowed; that was one of the coolest things he had ever done. 'Thanks, Needles,' he said. 'That was awesome.'
Needles smiled; he felt good about what he'd done for the boy. He extinguished the target lantern, secured everything, and led Aaron back up the steep wooden ladder to the cannery above.
Chapter 31
You're Michael?
Michael drove up and skidded to a stop in front of Aaron's apartment building. He jumped out of the car and ran up the steps to ring the bell.
There was no answer.
Again.
No answer.
He located the hidden key, but when he tried it he found that the door was unlocked. He replaced the key then stepped inside, peering into the darkness of the foyer.
– 'Hello?' he said, clicking on a light. 'Is anybody home?' A backpack lay heaped in the corner with some papers and other junk. A beach cruiser leaned against a wall.
He walked through the living room, past a set of stairs that led to the second floor, and flipped a light on in the kitchen. There was no one there, so he checked the rest of the downstairs before returning to the living room.
He climbed the stairs and about half way up his foot slipped on the carpeting and he had to put a hand down to keep from falling. As he straightened he noticed that his hand was moist. He rubbed his thumb and index finger together and felt a soapy residue that smelled like laundry detergent. He knelt and ran his hand over the carpeted stair treads. Three were damp. Then he continued on up the stairs.
The upstairs hall light was already on. Michael checked the master bedroom and bath, but they were deserted.
When he came to Aaron's room a wave of panic tightened his chest: The door was splintered by what appeared to be a gunshot to the lock. He tried the knob, but the door was still securely dead-bolted from the
