Page 85 of His Obsession

Randall hung up the phone and placed it on the console.

“Talking about me?” I asked him.

“Yes.”

“Do you have that big rifle? I need to feel that power again.”

“I’d have to stop at Alek’s house and get it, or I have something better.” His sly smile caused tingles to cover my skin in excitement.

“I’ll take something better for five-hundred, please.”

“Excellent choice.”

∞∞∞

He placed a sizeable blackish sniper rifle on the table before me and rattled off the stats of the Remington 700 PCR. I tuned him out, not caring about caliber or how far it could shoot. I just wanted to pull the trigger and feel the power in my hands.

He handed me the loaded magazine, and I popped it in. The metal sliding against each other caused me to shiver with anticipation. I squared up my shoulders like Randall showed me.

The butt of the rifle sat firmly into my shoulder, and I crossed my arm underneath the butt, bracing from beneath. This was something he said that helps give you slight variations of directions.

“I’d typically have a sand sock that you’d squeeze to raise or lower the end of the rifle, tilting it to hit the target just right, but I popped it last time.”

I giggled, thinking of his reaction of sand going all over his pristine little world.

“Okay, aim at the small circle at the top right of the paper. Seventy-five yards isn’t hard, so breathe and pull the trigger.”

Randall stepped back to his binoculars, and I set my focus to the one circle out of five and pointed the crosshair’s dead center.

My palms became slick with perspiration, and I had a slight tremble in my fingers that caused my sights to wobble, but I was ready. I could do this. I took three deep breaths to calm myself and squeezed the trigger. The rifle exploded with power, and Newton’s third law slammed into my shoulder and jarred my sore ribs, as the bullet left the barrel and penetrated the target.

The rush and exhilaration of power at your fingertips were therapeutic, and I could see why people spent a fortune at the range. It was cheaper than talking to a person with a pen and paper, and the rifle wouldn’t tell your secrets, the rifle wouldn’t judge you. I looked at the target to see where my bullet hit.

“Well done, your zero is a half-inch from the center, so bring it down.” I made my adjustments and racked another bullet.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Squeeze.

I shot three magazines and cleared my mind of all matters until my shoulder ached, and my finger was no longer steady. My adrenaline was up, but I had a sense of calm about me. I could conquer anything the world offered me, and everything that had happened to me was a proof of that fact.

I applied the safety and pulled the magazine, clearing the chamber, as Randall taught me. Safety was paramount. If you couldn’t be safe on the range, you wouldn’t be safe out there.

“Let’s go get your paper,” he said, patting me on the back. That was the second time he voluntarily touched me today. I think I was breaking through that thick black ice that was coating his heart.

We rang the bell to alert everyone on the range we were going into the firing zone, even though no one was there but us. Randall said it was good to imagine this range was always full. That way, you wouldn’t ever forget and walk in front of a bullet.

We pulled the target off and took our place back behind the red line. “You are a natural with a rifle. Those are tight clusters.” He pointed to a cluster of holes in each circle.

A smile refused to leave my face, and my cheeks hurt. “I needed this, Randall. Thank you.”

I knew he took time out of his day to do this for me, but I think he would rather be here than on the errands he needed to run today.

“My pleasure.”