We ended up staying another day in the house. It wasn't my original plan, but Harry convinced me it was the best idea—just for my own well-being. I knew there was truth in that; I needed rest and a lot of it. The need for adequate sleep still wasn't enough to fully convince me, though.
When he brought up how I'd regret leaving so quickly and not giving myself any time to process, physically or mentally—that was when I started to listen more. I still didn't want to in fear I was just wasting more time, but I wouldn't be a whole lot of help if I kept depriving myself of sleep. I had to take a moment, not just for myself but for Alayna, too. Who knew what was ahead, I needed to be prepared and ready for anything.
So, majority of the morning was spent sleeping. I noticed in between waking up and falling back asleep that even Harry got in some which I was grateful for. He seemed to always get less sleep than I did. Maybe that was his normal, but it couldn't be healthy.
Some shuffling of feet woke me up from my final sleep along with the sound of a plate being placed on the coffee table beside me. I cracked an eye open to see what was going on.
Harry saw me stirring and let out a lowly, "Hey." He placed a fork on the plate and looked at me.
"Real eggs."
I sat up on my shoulders at the words, my eyes already more awake than ten seconds ago. I had gotten so used to Harry's MRE eggs that I had forgotten eggs were a real thing that didn't come in a powdered form naturally.
I reached for it, a quick "thank you" leaving my mouth. He didn't say anything, but he did look pleased with himself. He started to walk off toward the kitchen again but swiftly turned back around to face me.
"Oh and when you're done I need you to meet me out front. We have some practicing to do."
My mouth was already in the process of being stuffed with food, an eyebrow raising at his words. Before I could reply though, he had already wandered out of view again.
I quickly ate what remained on my plate and hopped off the couch toward the front door. I stopped when I realized he had left the front door cracked, revealing a glimpse of himself. His back was turned to me and he had stumps of wood thrown over his shoulder.
He was just in a white tee shirt this time, which the weather finally permitted. Bits of exposed ink peeked through the thinness of the fabric, on top of what was already adorned along his arms. The breeze was slight and caused the shirt to flow against the wind, the definition of his muscles softly protruding because of it.
He threw down the wood and placed glass bottles on each of the makeshift podiums. Realization finally struck me on what he meant by practice now.
Shooting practice.
I already had an abundance of practicing this with mom, I didn't see how this would help me any more.
I shook my head to force myself back to reality. I didn't want him to catch me and accuse me of gawking at him again. I'd already gotten my fair share of that.
The door groaned as I swung it open, causing Harry to turn toward me. He waved over and shouted, "Perfect timing!"
I raised a hand to once again shield my eyes from the sun beating down on me. My eyes squinted for a moment as I walked more towards him. I stopped when I got in front of the target practice he had set up.
"You know, I've done this a million times."
My hands were placed on my hips and my head crooked to the side as I peered at him; a jokingly-arrogant look on my face.
"Well," he placed a hand on one of his own hips and smacks his lips as to mimic me, "Then how come Miss-done-this-a-million-times kept missing the shot and almost wasted all her bullets trying to get just one?"
My face scrunched up with annoyance.
"I was stressed! The Crawler was running! Minus the fact it was also raining!" I raised my hands up in exasperation, pretending like he didn't make a good point.
Before I had left my house for the drop-off I was full of confidence. I was pretty good at hitting targets that mom had me practice with, but again, they didn't prepare me for reality. I didn't see how this would prepare me for reality either.
"That's real life babe—stressful. Sometimes things move. Sometimes it rains," he paused to lean toward me and spoke in a whisper, "Ya know, sometimes you don't exactly get to choose what happens."
He leaned back away, his previous mocking demeanor had seized and his stance was normal again. He always seemed to surprise me with how he could be so condescending even when he was trying to be helpful.
"And how's this real life?" I spat out and gestured toward the glass bottles nestled on top of tree stubs.
He scoffed sarcastically, "You think that lowly of me Brin?" His hand reached up to his chest to add dramatic effect, "You think this was all I was going to have us practice with? I'm offended personally."
He dropped his hand and quickly tossed a gun toward me that he pulled from the back of his pant's waistband.
"Now come on."
I didn't argue, I was just glad I caught the gun that was flying toward me. I didn't think I would have heard the end of it had I let it fall.
I heaved a breath of annoyance and walked behind him, gun held carefully beside me.
I imagined Harry was slightly surprised that I did have pretty good aim when it came to still-targets. He would give a few "not bad" comments, but nothing past that.
When it was his turn and I had just finished setting up a new round of glass bottles, he had already hit every single one before I got the chance to walk back up to him. I rolled my eyes and set it back up, pointing at him to not touch this round.
"Show off," was all I said. A knowing grin plastered on his face once I caught back up to him. I just rolled my eyes again, concealing a smile.
"If you're so good, why didn't you try to shoot the Crawler?" I spat back as I held the gun back at eye level, matching it up with the target.
I took an inhale in and pressed the trigger, the glass shattering on impact. The exhale left my lips, satisfied with my hit.
"I was too busy pulling your ass and saving you," he rebutted. I could sense the smile in his tone without looking at him.
"Again, might I add."
That comment made me turn back around to him.
The gentle and patient person I got to see that morning seemed to be gone. The one with snarky comments for every situation was back full force and I wasn't sure which way I preferred. This version made me feel a bit normal again and less like someone constantly feeling sorry for me.
That was a nice part of it, but sometimes softness was needed and there was nothing wrong with craving it every now and then. Though I would be silly to expect that from him for too long I had begun to realize.
Softness could create distractions and that was not what I needed anyway. I had to push it down for now.
My mouth opened to say something, but closed right back as I turned around again. My gun raised, locked on the target, my inhale held, and pow.
Missed. I grumbled under my breath.
I tucked the gun into the back of my pants and spun around to him. I was annoyed by it all and we had to be losing sunlight relatively soon. It felt like we had already been out here for hours doing the same thing.
"Can we just move on to whatever else you had planned since this isn't very 'real life' to you anyways?" I added air quotes around the words to add emphasis on the sarcasm. He ignored my attempt to poke at him and tucked his gun away.
"Sure."
He disappeared for a moment around the corner of the house. I stopped trying to guess Harry's next move for anything anymore because I was almost always wrong. Instead I began to fidget with the skin around my nails, biting at them in nervous anticipation.
He eventually came back around the opposite side of the house. In his hands he carried what was once just a pink motorized Barbie toy car, but now with a large piece of thin wood attached to it.
"Oh, Jesus Christ."
I couldn't help but laugh as he came closer, the Barbie car target in hand with such a serious expression on his face. I was definitely right about not being able to guess what he was up to.
He placed the car down, the wood facing toward me. He checked back a few times, assessing how he wanted it distanced from me. Finally he became content with his decision and strolled back over to me.
"Okay pull your gun out," he instructed plainly. I listened and waited for him to get in closer proximity with more instructions.
He stopped once he was in front of me and looked at me with that same serious expression as before. I tried my best not to cower at the newfound intimidation I was being introduced to.
"I need you to understand something first, okay?" He hesitated for a moment and then proceeded, "Life doesn't give you time to think sometimes—well, most times. You have to be quick and calculated and this means knowing when to hesitate and when not to." He paused again, almost like he was trying to use his words carefully.
"Basically—if you aren't quick enough, you're going to die out there. If we're not quick enough, one or both of us could die." He looked intensely at me, scanning my eyes for a reaction to what he was saying.
"Uh, I know that. So what's your point?" My arms crossed to my chest, the gun hanging loosely from my fingers.
I tried to not act defensively, but it was hard when it seemed as though he was insinuating I couldn't think critically and quick on my feet—that I might not think quick enough and risk killing us both. Maybe I was just reading too much into it.
"Listen, I'm not telling you this because I think you're going to do anything wrong. Nobody's perfect or knows exactly what to do in the moment, okay? It's all lucky guesses based on observations and gut instincts." His tone had softened slightly to try and reel me back in. "All I'm saying is, there's a lot to factor in when talking about hitting a moving target. Especially when that moving target wants you dead."
I winced at the thought. I hated thinking about that but I knew it was necessary. I didn't need anything sugar coated.
He took a deep breath in and clasped his hands together, "So...a few pointers to keep in mind first. Use common sense when it comes to these creatures, you should only try killing it if it's threatening you or others' lives. If it doesn't see you, don't make it see you. Don't give it any reason to come at you. I'm sure you know this."
I nodded.
That was one thing my mom had told me and I always remembered to consider. I knew not to engage with anything that I didn't need to, whether human or non-human. You couldn't let your ego get in the way.
"Second, let's say it does see you and you now have no other choice but to try and kill it. You have to think faster than it, which doesn't necessarily mean faster in physical speed—it just means one step ahead. For instance—" he paused to move his hands around as he spoke, "with still targets, you point your gun up and aim it at the body, shoot, and bam it gets hit. With moving targets, you have to be ahead of it. Don't follow your gun with the moving figure because you'll probably miss. Aim it towards a spot that's directly in its path. That way when it does reach that spot, you're already ready for it. Make sense?"
"Okay, yeah."
"But remember, life isn't always predictable so this won't always work perfectly. It all goes by much quicker than you think, so it goes back to not hesitating and trusting your gut. This is best used when it's farther away. If it's close, you have a better shot at just aiming it directly towards the Crawler and shooting."
Without saying anything more, he moved directly behind me. In my peripheral vision I could see his arms move up to either sides of me, but he stopped and first asked, "May I?"
I nodded my head yes.
"Stance," he said as he pushed my legs apart with one of his feet, "is one of the most important parts of all of this. Yours is good, but it just needs some minor adjustments."
I could feel his chest brush against my back and I fought to remain focused on what was in front of me. Each of his hands were held tight to my corresponding arms, guiding me to position.
"And remember to keep your knees flexed to keep your foundation secure," he said as he patted my thighs until he was satisfied with their placement. "When you're moving this will help keep your balance, too."
He walked over to my side, observing my positioning and then placed a hand on my back, slightly angling it forward. He then proceeded to straighten my elbows out.
"Make sure your head is kept level with your view point, your arms will keep it steady as long as you don't let your nerves get to you. You can't afford that."
He walked back over closely, looking over my shoulder. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin and it sent a shiver down my spine. His hand wrapped back around my forearm and moved it slightly down to get the gun into perfect eye level to the Barbie car.
He took a few steps back and said, "Now shoot."
My finger immediately pulled the trigger, leaving a bullet sized hole right in the middle of the wood piece. I lowered the gun with a relieved grin.
"Atta girl. Now try again," he said and within moments the car moved. It did a few twirls and spins, moving in different directions.
I quickly lifted the gun back up, regaining the position as before. Inhaled in, waited for it to meet my aiming point, pow.
Another hole.
A new wave of confidence surged through me now. I held my stance and continued to follow it, my arms steadier than they had ever been.
Pow, pow, pow, pow.
All four shots created holes within the wood and the car stopped moving. I lowered my gun down carefully and then spun around, no longer able to contain my excitement. I was practically jumping on the inside.
Harry had a pleased look on his face, whether it was from being pleased in my abilities or in his ability to teach me—I wasn't quite sure. I would take it either way.
A smirk appeared on his face and he reached for the controller again, "Now let's see you run."
I felt like I shouldn't have been having as much fun as I was considering what he was actually preparing me for, but I could admit that it was fun. I lost track of how many times Harry ran the car toward me. We practiced running forwards, backwards, and even sideways. It wasn't a perfect shot every time, but it was enough given how much smaller this target would be compared to one of those creatures.
By the time we decided to stop, I was completely worn out and out of breath. Even Harry looked exhausted and he only practiced a small portion compared to me. He was impressive with a gun, but that came to no surprise seeing the difference just one afternoon of his teaching did for me.
I clicked the safety on and handed Harry the gun back.
One really nice thing about how guarded mom made our house was the fact we had an abundance of bullets because they were so rarely used. They were mostly used for hunting food, but mom didn't like us doing it often. It was too risky, she said. Hence the abundance we kept stashed, only to collect dust until now.
So even with all of our practice, it was safe to say we had plenty to spare.
The sun had begun to set and I was thrilled to be back inside the house. The locks were set in place and we quickly scarfed down some food before falling into our couch-beds.
I let Harry take his shower first as I let myself recoup a little more. Even though I knew the shower water would be cold, I didn't care. I was actually looking forward to a cold shower—Anything to feel like a fresh person again.
Eventually Harry climbed down the stairs. This was the first time I didn't see a variation of sweat, dirt, or even leftover blood somewhere on his body. His hair still dripped of water, weighing it down to fall right above his eyes. Little waves of curls were more evident now, something I hadn't quite noticed before. He was back in his sweatpant shorts from the other night with a fresh shirt that I found in my closet. It used to be one of my oversized night shirts, but it fit him perfectly. He looked cozy.
"You're up," he said before throwing himself into the couch.
I got a brief whiff of the floral soap he used in the shower, immediately reminding me of my mom and Alayna. A wave of sadness struck me and I bit at my lip. Fear and sadness threatened to come back and I didn't want to take a shower anymore. The smell would be too much and I would rather just be dirty.
Harry's eyebrows scrunched together once he noticed my body language change. He looked so confused.
"Wait did I say something?" He questioned.
I shook my head, "No, sorry. I was just uh..." I trailed off, still trying to regain composure. "Just the smell of...just brought back memories again I guess, sorry."
I shook my head, but this time in annoyance at myself for being a bumbling mess.
"Hey," he sat up on the couch and leaned toward me. His arm began to reach for me but he retracted it back to his lap just as quick.
"Stop apologizing, it's fine." He lightly laughed, "You've been through some shit, it's okay I promise. I couldn't smell any kind of vanilla scent for 6 months without wanting to lose my shit. I get it."
He stopped and jokingly nudged my side, "I've heard dish soap can give a hell of a cleaning."
I couldn't help but laugh, "I might just do that
actually."
"If ducks smothered in oil can handle it, I think it should be able to handle you too." He jokingly sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as he looked me over, "Well maybe. You are pretty dirty."
I looked over and pushed at his shoulder, "Oh fuck off."
We waited a moment in silence after our small laughter had settled and then I sat up from my spot and headed toward the kitchen. I came back with a bottle of Dawn in my hands. Alayna would definitely have made fun of me for this, no doubt.
I smiled to myself at the thought and headed up the stairs.