Page 22 of Deadfall

He grunted a reply, but this time there was no mistaking that look in his eyes as anything other than pride.

12

EMERSYN

Age 13

As the weeks passed, I could feel myself grow stronger every day as I built up muscle and endurance. As my workouts progressed and developed intensity, Sacha began to add in the foundations of self-defense. We would spend hours going over drills, and training my instincts. Sacha continually told me, you act what you train—which meant in the heat of an altercation, your reactions came down to training. The better your training, the more instinctual you could be.

But eventually the weather worsened. It became colder and the daylight hours shortened. The day the first snow fell, it stuck and didn’t stop until several feet of it encased the world in white. Our time outdoors grew limited to necessity after that. I was worried it would impact my progress, but one morning after chopping wood, Sacha jerked his head in the direction of the house.

I followed after him as he made his way inside to his bedroom. He walked in and left the door open. I hesitated at the doorway. I’d never stepped foot in his space before. When I peeked in, I could see the room was tidy and sparse. Everything had a place. There was a radio, which explained how he reached the outside world for supply drops, but what drew my attention was the door he typed a code into.

“Armory,” he stated when he saw my hesitation.

Harsh LED lights lit up the short staircase down to a larger room, and my eyes widened. All manner of guns and other weaponry hung on pegs backlit by more lighting. Stacks of ammo were in crates along one wall that went all the way to the ceiling. It was more than a hunter’s stash—this was something else. I’d refrained from asking Sacha about his past. Mostly, because I didn’t want him to turn the questions back to me. But, the amount of firepower here spoke of something deeper than just surviving in the wild.

Sweat immediately broke out across my skin and I clenched my fists at my side, unable to come further into the room. Ever since being shot, guns frightened me. Which really sucked because I’d enjoyed handling them when I was younger.

Sacha’s words broke through my thoughts. He gestured to a door across the room.

“Behind there is a small range. And, that other room is a gym—” He pointed to a door directly to my left. “Modest—but, I expect you to complete your workouts there while the weather is bad.”

Then, Sacha took down a handgun and a shiver ran down my spine.

“We’ll start with a nine-millimeter,” he said.

He slowly dropped the magazine and popped the slide to double check that it was empty. I recognized the movement—it was what my Dad used to do with his guns. It was the first thing he’d taught me and Cole. Growing up with guns in the house, my dad had made sure to teach us how to handle and respect them. I’d even shot a .22 before, even though my Mom thought we were way too young.

That felt like a lifetime ago—and in a way it was—

“This is called a magazine.” My Dad pulled out a piece of the gun from the bottom. “See, it’s empty?”

Cole and I stood in his study, solemnly subdued with the gravity of what we were being allowed to do. At eight years old, guns had been off limits if even a bit of an unknown up until today.

“Then, you want to pull the slide back,” Dad continued. “Because even if the mag is gone, there could still be a bullet in the chamber and that’s just as dangerous.”

He showed us both the empty chamber.

“Guns are dangerous—” He made sure he met both of our gazes with a very serious look. “They are not toys, and you never, never point one at someone—even if you’re sure the gun is not loaded. They are not something you show off to your friends. And, no matter what—I don’t care if you just saw someone check the gun themselves, you always check it yourself. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” Cole and I chorused together.

“This is a .22.” He handed me the gun to hold first. “It’s a smaller gun, which should be easier for you two to handle right now. I’m going to show you how to take it apart—”

Even at eight, I knew the weight of what I held. It was scary, but exciting at the same time. I passed it carefully to Cole.

“Do we get to go shooting?” Cole asked, barely able to keep a lid on his excitement.

“If you can get this down, yeah, we’ll go after school tomorrow—”

“If you’re not ready—” Sacha’s voice brought me back as he reached to take the gun back.

“No,” I cleared my throat. “No–I can do it.”

I picked up the gun and reacquainted myself with the feel of it. My hands seemed to remember more than my mind did because I dropped the mag and popped the slide like I’d been doing it my whole life. I put the gun down, shocked with myself.

“You’ve handled a gun before,” Sacha stated, surprised.