Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 71179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Bacon?” she asks.
“Always,” I say.
She grabs the package of bacon and examines it, frowning. “What are we going to do when we run out of fresh food?”
“I told you, Vannah, I don’t think we’ll be here that long.”
She presses her lips together. “How can you say that? I have no idea if anyone will be able to find Vinnie, and if they can’t, I don’t know how to get the information we’re after.”
“We’ll figure it out, Savannah.”
She nods and looks at me, but in her face, I’m not sure if she believes me.
She doesn’t know my determination.
Determination to keep her safe.
She’ll go back to her talking points about how we both have equal responsibilities to take care of each other, protect each other. While I objectively agree with her that in a perfect world that’s how it would be, that’s not the hand we’ve been dealt.
I will teach her to be strong, show her what she needs to do. Teach her how to fight.
But in the end, I will protect her, no matter what.
Savannah pulls out a frying pan and lays a few strips of bacon in it. Then she throws a few slices of bread into the toaster.
Once the coffee is brewing, I take a look around the kitchen, figuring out where things are. There’s enough fresh food to last a couple weeks. If we’re here longer than that, we’ll have to get into the survival food.
I doubt we’ll be here longer than that. But I need to find resources. Leif, if he’s up for it. If he’s not, he’ll know someone I can trust.
And Hawk.
He knows better than to tell Eagle any of this, but I need to find out what he tells my parents and sisters as to why I’m gone.
Technically, I’m not allowed to leave the county without telling my parole officer. Vannah, of course, is no longer my parole officer.
Shit. My parole meetings.
I’ve been reassigned. Vannah no longer works there.
And I’m definitely not going to be able to make my next meeting. Not if I’m here in the safe house with Vannah.
And there’s no way in hell I’m going to leave her alone.
I might never leave her alone again.
Fuck.
I’ll fix all of this somehow.
I just don’t know how.
Savannah brings a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast to me at the table.
We eat together and I realize getting her into shape won’t work.
I’m not sure what I was thinking, but that takes time. I had the advantage of being in awesome shape when I went to the slammer, and I only got stronger once I was there.
I’ll start with an easy regimen for Savannah, because starting out hard will only make her muscles sore. So we’ll go slowly.
But there’s something else I can teach her that won’t take as much time.
Savannah’s going to learn how to shoot.
10
SAVANNAH
“Learning to shoot a pistol safely and effectively involves a series of steps that should be followed with care and diligence.”
I stare at Falcon. “Are you reading from an instruction manual? I’ve told you. I know how to shoot.”
“This isn’t a game, Vannah. I’ve seen what failing to know your surroundings when you’re shooting can do, and you’re out of practice. I’m going to take you through every part of your pistol as if you’ve never touched on before. First of all, treat every firearm as if it’s loaded and the safety is off.”
“Okay.” My heart beats rapidly.
“Always keep the nose of the gun pointed in a safe direction and keep your finger away from the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” I salute him.
“Are you going to take this seriously?” he demands.
“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry.”
“Good. This will help you be able to take care of yourself. Keep yourself safe.”
She points to the shelf full of firearms. “That small one. I’d like to try that one.”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Smaller weapons tend to have harsher recoil.” He picks up a pistol. “This is a basic nine millimeter.”
He educates me on the parts of the pistol—the slide, the barrel, the trigger, the safety mechanism, and the magazine release.
“Got all that, Vannah?”
“Yes.”
“Good. What’s this?” He points to the long part of the gun.
“The barrel.”
“And this?”
“The safety.”
“This?”
“Falcon, I know them all.”
“All right. We’ll see.” He grabs what look like bulky earmuffs and construction goggles and hands them to me. “Always wear ear protection and eye protection during target practice inside. Put these on.”
I obey.
“Is the fit good?” he asks.
“I guess so.” I fiddle with my eyewear. “I can’t really tell.”
He tightens my goggles and adjusts the earmuffs. “Good. You can take them off for now. Let’s go into the shooting range.”
Falcon opens the door and I step in ahead of him. The heavy door shuts behind me with a solid thud, sealing off the world outside. The air is cool and still, and two shooting lanes, each a narrow corridor with targets at the end, stand before me.