Aftermath - Intermission
#2 of Aftermath
I was crouched behind a rock, bullets flying past my position and chipping the stone. I spun out and opened fire on blurry figures below me, taking single shots from a long barreled rifle. I watched as the dark shadows fell. I was running. My leg tore open and I collapsed to the ground, searing pain filling my body...
I awoke with a start, panting and sweaty. I had had similar dreams before of being in firefights. This particular one tended to come back to me often, where I was shot and fell to the ground to die. I rubbed my right leg where I had felt the pain in my dream. There were five black spots where the fur had grown over scar tissue. I had always assumed the injuries were from the crash. It was one of the few dark spots over my nearly completely white body. I ran my fingers through my fur again, wondering at the injury. Somehow it didn't quite add up.
I decided to get up since my alarm was set to go off in ten minutes anyway. After breakfast I went downstairs to my gun safe. I had taken the day off and planned on doing some shooting in my free time. The safe door opened to revile my prized gun collection. I had a few handguns and shotguns, but it mostly contained rifles of every shape and size. In the center rack sat the most valuable of these, and my personal favorite, a working Deterrent sniper rifle. I had procured the weapon as well as the military grade ammunition for it, through a strong business relationship with the manufacturer three years earlier.
I returned upstairs and wheeled myself out to the concrete pad and table I had set up for shooting. 1,750 yards away, on the opposite side of my property across a ravine, I had built an electronic target system which resembled an enlarged biathlon target. I set up the rifle and was about to load the first round when my cell phone alerted me that someone had rang the doorbell. I linked to my house's intercom and keyed the door speaker.
"Who is it?"
"It's Ryan. I had a question about one of the problems on your homework assignment that I was wondering if I could talk to you about."
"Sure, I'll be right there."
I removed the bolt from the rifle, pocketed it and rolled back into my house. I opened the front door to let Ryan in. He was a hare and his tall ears brushed the top of my door frame as he entered the house. Though slightly out of shape, his excellent bone structure and incredible concentration and patients combined to take him to the top of the shooting team. He was also a great student, but was so devoted to the team and his school work, he didn't have much of a social life as far as I knew.
Even though it was the weekend, I had never turned away a student who needed help with class work. I wheeled about and moved slowly through the house, leading Ryan behind me to the dining room.
"What's your question?"
"It was on problem twelve, where we had to calculate the angle of the initial force vector for a projectile to hit a given target."
"That shouldn't be a problem for you, you do it mentally every practice."
"I know, but I did all the calculations correctly, but my answer is less than one MOA even with the provided drag coefficient. It doesn't seem possible for a non vacuum environment."
"Doesn't seem possible because you trying to over analyze it with incomplete data. You are in luck though."
I turned away from the table and moved towards the back door.
"That question is based on data for a special bullet shot from a special rifle."
I opened the back door and led him outside.
"This rifle in fact... and this bullet."
"Wow, where did you get this?"
"Long story. Anyway, like I was saying, the projected problem is for the rounds I'm shooting for this rifle, so why don't we test your theory."
I positioned myself back behind the shooting stand and re inserted the bolt and loaded a round. I aimed at the target, the cross hairs sitting slightly above the center of the target.
"Alright Ryan, check my angle here, is it what you calculated?"
Using a laser protractor, he measured the angle of the barrel.
"Yes."
"Okay then, if you are right, with the muzzle velocity being the given initial velocity in the equation, and with our know acceleration vectors; if your calculations are correct, this should hit that target."
"Assuming you can shoot that accurately."
I turned and looked at him, almost glaring.
"Trust me, you haven't seen anything."
I turned back to the scope and lined up my shot again. The air was still and clear providing perfect shooting conditions. Ryan had no idea just how accurately I could shoot. I exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger. The recoil of the rifle pushed my shoulder back. A heartbeat later the bullet struck the target, an electronic sensor closing the opening to indicate a hit. I turned back to Ryan.
"It seems that your answer was right."
He was still staring down range with a dumbfounded expression on his face.
"Where did you learn to shoot like that coach?"
"I don't know, probably something with the National Guard, but I can't imagine them teaching helicopter pilots to shoot that well with a rifle. I've always been a natural shot."
"Can you teach me to do that?"
We spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon shooting. Not everyone could just pick up a rifle like this and hit a target. Ryan was a good shot though and by the end he was landing one out of three. Pretty good for his first day on anything bigger than a .223.
After he left, I sat in my study cleaning the rifle, thinking about events of my past. Nothing served to clear my mind better than working on my firearms. The fine, loving, work I showed my rifles gave me time to speculate and ponder, usually my unknown past.
I was running a swab through the barrel. I was in the back of a truck, bouncing along a street. I flung the door open and took cover as a hail of bullets was fired at me. I bent out and killed a pair of soldiers. I pulled the dirty cloth out of the rod and inserted a new one.
Damn! Another one of those stupid visions. Always when my thoughts were unfocused, I tended to have flashes of memory. They never seemed to add up to what my life had been though. It was all very strange.
There were many strange things about my life. I noticed details and minute facts that other's missed or passed off. I could analyze any location as well as a strategy for moving through it or fighting in it. I could also find a weapon just about anywhere without much searching.
These were all irrelevant though. Right now I had more important things to worry about than my countless oddities. I had a business to run, tests to grade, and a team to coach. Time to focus.
The school year moved on and was soon nearing its end. The season continued with our team's longest ever winning streak ever. As I had predicted, we were invited to nationals. The school board even paid for the transportation and lodging for the five team members and myself.
We did exceptionally well at nationals. The team took second overall. Ryan won in the individual completion and we clenched two of the other top slots. All in all it couldn't have been a better end of the season. We returned to Leavenworth as champions. Now I had a break from the classroom and could relax a little for the summer.
For the first time in five years, life was really starting to look up. I was finally truly settled down; I had a secure job, a house and car of my own, and a successful business. Nothing could possible ruin this.