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Chapter 9 by TheSpectator TheSpectator

Travel out

Begin

You are more than confident enough in your abilities in handling your own fire arm, but you didn't know too much about Miranda. Perhaps she was some kind of crack shot from another local outfit? You walk about 30 minutes out of the village to an opening. You've been here a few dozen times before for practice purposes. This is probably the first time you've gone shooting with another person in over a year.

You hand her your rifle. It's empty. You unload your stripper clips and begin loading the new cartridges along the rail. She helps you once she gets familiar with the weight and sights, she helps you load too. She looks up and blows a loose strand of hair. She beams at you with a smile.

"Where did you get that rifle? It's in pretty good shape." She asks.

Your eyes glance to the rifle. It's actually taken a pretty harsh beating since you've taken it with you. "Bought it from a general store back South. It’s from a collector I think, but he past and his son was selling it with a box of ammo."

"There are better options, you know? Automatics. Handier guns. Shotguns..." She trails off and sighs. "But this Mauser...It's obsolete."

You smile to yourself. You didn't take Miranda for a gun nut. "It performs the way I need it to out here. I'm not a sharpshooter by any means, but it'll kill whatever I hit."

Miranda smiles too, but she rolls her eyes. Once you are finished, she takes the rifle and strips the bullets into the internal magazine, almost as if she's done this a thousand times before. "Girls go first," she says.

"By all means," you crane your neck and reach for some ear plugs. A pair for yourself and then a pair for her. She slings the rifle around her shoulder and plugs her ears. You point down range, a row of dummies, lightly covered by snow are lined up in a neat little row. You dig out a pair of binoculars and check the wooden dummies. "Three in the center, two in the head."

You are about 50 yards, or 45 meters if you prefer, from the targets. With open sights, the stationary targets should be pretty easy for anyone. Miranda exhales. "Watch this."

Miranda brings and digs the stock into her shoulder. Her eye trains to the notches and lines her first shot perfectly. The first 2 bullets are somewhat slow, but the the next 3 are quick and swift. You whistle in response to her shots. "Easy peasy."

You swap tools and spit, loading the next round. "Alright. I'll do 3 in the head and 2 in the chest."

Doing what she did, you dig the stock into your shoulder and aim. Your shots land perfectly, the last shot on the chest knocks the dummy over, apparently hitting something hard. You pull the bolt back watch the barrel steam in the cool air. Your shots were faster. There was no pause at the start.

"Easy," you say. "Real easy."

"Piss off," Miranda plucks a stripper clip from the table and asks for the rifle. "We're just getting started. Don't get cocky."

Continue being cocky?

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