The Assignment

Chapter 12

The shooting range was a large, light-colored brick building about a third of the size of a Target store. My nerves had been shaky the whole drive over, but my heart started pounding monstrously once we parked. Joey looked calm as ever, but then again, he knew how to properly handle a firearm. Of course, it wouldn't bother him. But I didn't. And I wasn't excited.

"It's not that hard, I promise," Joey tried to assure me. "I was a terrible shot when I first learned, too. I couldn't seem to hold my hands steady. I picked it up pretty fast, though, and you will, too, Jess."

His thumb softly stroked the back of my hand in a soothing motion. "I'll help you. It'll be fine."

I reluctantly got out of the vehicle, following Joey to the barred doors. The inside of the building was decorated with various deer heads, fish, and other wildlife trophies. I couldn't tell if they were real or fake. Guns were everywhere, on every wall and in every corner of the facility. Rifles, shotguns, pistols, and several other types of weapons surrounded us, including a tremendous inventory of knives.

I didn't feel threatened, but I didn't necessarily feel that safe either.

Joey waited patiently, leaning against a glass case that housed several pistols and hunting knives. Within minutes, a heavyset older man with grey hair and a Bass Pro ball cap came from what appeared to be the back office.

"What'll it be today, Cavannaugh?" he asked with a big grin, the two shaking hands firmly.

I felt like a third wheel.

Joey slapped his palm on the glass case. "I need a practice revolver," he nodded in my direction. "Miss Jess is going to learn how to shoot today."

I almost objected, but my mouth refused to form words. The man extended his hand to me and I hesitantly shook it.

"I'm Ron Coffman." He smiled and I noticed he had a couple gold teeth. "Joseph and I go way back. I taught him how to fire his first varmint gun. Ain't that right, Joe?"

Joey breathed a chuckle. "It was a laughable experience, to say the least."

Ron unlocked a metal cabinet to his left and handed Joey a small black pistol and a little green box. "The range is open. Take as long as you want."

Joey nodded and started walking toward a painted white door. It took me a few seconds to force my feet to move, following him.

On the other side of the door was the range. There were lanes in which the shooter stood at one end and fired at the outline of a person on the other end. There was no one else in the room and every lane had a black sheet of paper with a silhouette at the end of it. There were no windows and the lighting was kind of dim. In a way, it resembled a bowling alley.

"Now," Joey recaptured my attention. "I'm going to explain to you the cardinal safety rules of firing a gun, okay?"

He looked confident and I felt anything but. Still, I decided to put on a tough persona and deal with it, since I obviously had no choice in the matter.

Who knows. Maybe it won't be that bad, the voice in my head said.

"Okay."

"Alright," Joey began. "Rule number one: always treat every gun as if it's loaded. I don't care if you know it's unloaded. Still treat it like it's full of rounds. Got it?"

I nodded. "Got it."

That seemed easy enough to remember.

"Rule number two: always keep it pointed in a direction where it's not going to hurt anyone or cause much, if any, damage if it accidentally discharges," he explained, pointing the pistol he'd been holding at the ground, away from his feet. "Make sense?"