Chapter Thirty

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 Adlai lay on her stomach on the roof of the shooting range, staring at the two-thousand yard target. She hadn't made a shot like this–at least, not with the precision she wanted–before. She took a deep breath and looked down at the black armband she was wearing. In giant, white letters, the number 72 stared up at her. 72 beats per minute; not slow enough. She needed to get into the sixties to be steady enough to make that shot.

Rowan had showed her that trick, the trick of slowing her heart rate to around sixty beats per minute, and then keeping it steady. Already, Adlai had found it helped her to stay focused and made her aim more accurate. Also, it meant her adrenaline didn't surge as much, so she felt less drained, afterwards.

She took a few deep breaths, her eyes closed, and focused on her heartbeat and what she wanted it to do–namely, slow down. She felt its speed decreased, and she glanced down at the arm band. 64 beats per minute. Not bad.

Inhaling, she peered through her rifle's scope, her eyes on the target. As she exhaled, she pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot and the gun's recoil broke her focus, and she looked away from the scope for a second, missing the shot's impact.

When she glanced through the scope once again, she saw a neat hole at the very center of the target, the bullseye completely obliterated. The shot had hit the perfect center.

Adlai couldn't help letting out a whoop of excitement. She'd done it! Applause coming from somewhere nearby made her jump, and the number on her armband increased briefly, then settled at 65, again. Adlai ejected the magazine in her rifle before she looked around for the source of the clapping and saw that Carter was standing in the spectator's zone, looking awed.

"Holy crap," Carter said as Adlai climbed down to meet her. "I can't even imagine making that shot! How the hell do you do that?"

Adlai glanced down at her armband and shrugged. "Rowan taught me this trick to keep my heartbeat steady, and it helps. Also, you always have to remember to breathe."

Carter gave a shaky laugh. "Yeah, I always have trouble with that one. I'm not the world's worst shot, but... I'm a medic, not a sniper, you know?"

"Yeah," Adlai said, understanding her completely. "I mean, I know how to clean a cut, but I'd be lost if someone told me to operate on someone."

"Exactly!" Carter exclaimed. "But I'm not here to enumerate my shortcomings, or yours. I was actually wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee? I'm free, right now, and I was thinking, since we're both Fox Squad probies, we might be able to commiserate."

Adlai giggled. "Yeah, okay," she said. "I could definitely use some caffeine. Let me just put my rifle away, and I'll be right back."

"Okay," Carter agreed, and Adlai hurried to get everything in order, then came back. "Let's go," she told Carter. Carter wrapped her arm around Adlai's waist; Adlai liked that about her, how she never shied away from physical contact. It was kind of comforting, and Carter always made it quite clear that, when she was affectionate, it firmly placed you as her friend, with no arguments about that. If she hugged you, you were her friend, and that was that.

They went to a cafe a few blocks away from Rangers' Square and claimed a table by a window that looked out over the bay. Carter ordered a green tea and a croissant, and Adlai chose a latte and a slice of coffee cake.

"Have you started classes at the Academy, yet?" Carter asked Adlai, as they were waiting for the barista to bring them their coffee.

Adlai nodded. She had started classes the day after they'd gotten back, and had started by choosing her program. "ComTac," she said, referring to the abbreviated name for the School of Combat, Tactics and Strategy. "You?"

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