Chapter 19: Firing Range.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Fosters.
AN: This chapter takes place three months after the previous chapter. Also, in answer to the guest reviewer "flying robin", who asked if I actual wrote the poem Jude wrote in Chapter 16. The answer is yes, I did. I also wrote the poem "Inequality for All" that appears in Chapter 3 of my other story "Shared".
As usual, please leave a review.
Connor's POV, March 17th 2015:
The day has finally arrived, and I am more nervous than I have ever been in my life.
In December of last year, Jude and I came to a mutual agreement that we would both learn to use a gun. Since then, we spent every Saturday with my Uncle Evan and Stef, who spent a couple of hours to teach us about how to take care of a weapon properly.
The first thing he had us do was choose which kind of gun we wanted to learn to use.
Flashback, December 20th 2014:
"Okay," Uncle Evan said as he led Jude, Stef and I down the stairs into his basement, "You two want to learn how to shoot. First thing we gotta do is have you guys pick your poison."
He walked up to a large cabinet, that occupied the entire back wall. He inserted a small key into a padlock and unlocked it, before entering a passcode into a keypad. The door to the cabinet opened with a pop.
"Jesus Christ, Evan." Stef said, "You prepping for war or something?"
I couldn't help but agree.
There were so many guns inside, I couldn't even hope to count them all. Assault rifles, pistols, rifles, submachine guns, shotguns, a crossbow, a couple of swords. I recognized a few of the assault rifles from some of the video games I had played. I saw an AK-47 and an M16 and raised an eyebrow at my uncle.
"What could you possibly need an AK-47 for?" I ask skeptically.
"Because I wanted one." He said simply, "Original Russian model, too. Not some cheep Chinese knock off."
"What about the belt fed machine gun on the bottom shelf?" Jude asked, his eyes widened.
Uncle Evan simply smirked.
"Remind me never to piss you off." Jude said nervously.
"Anyway, you said we get to pick?" I asked.
Uncle Evan nodded.
"Yeah, as long as it's a handgun. No rifles, submachine guns or shotguns. And keep your fingers off the triggers."
"Obviously." Jude deadpanned quietly beside me, causing me to snort, "Just the look of the those things are setting me on edge."
We approached the cabinet and perused the selection that we had to choose from.
There were so many to choose from. There were pistols that were so small that they could fit in my palm. I saw a copy of the same kind of gun that I had been shot with, a small snub nosed 38. Revolver. There was a revolver so big that it looked like it weighed a ton. I reached out and picked it up.
"Pick something else, buddy." Uncle Evan said, "Trust me, that thing is evil."
"Wasn't picking it." I said, "Just wondering why it's so big."
"It's a Smith and Wesson 500." He explained, "It's one of the most powerful revolvers in the world. I've only shot it once. Kickback was ridiculous, and it hurt like hell. Nearly knocked me off my feet. Get shot with one of these, you ain't walkin' away with the limb you get shot in intact."
I quickly placed it back in its place and picked up a much smaller pistol that sat next to it.
"What kind of gun is this?" I asked.
"Ah, much better choice." Uncle Evan said, "That's a Glock 17. It fires 9×19mm Parabellum rounds, and is quite popular with law enforcement. It's a polymer-framed, short recoil operated, locked breech semi-automatic pistol. Made in Austria. Great weapon. Is this what you want to learn with?"
I nodded.
"I think I'm gonna choose a Revolver." Jude said.
A few minutes later I heard a soft click, and the clatter of metal hitting the floor. I turned to see Jude holding the small revolver I had noticed before, with the cylinder open. I looked at the ground at his feet to see bullets on the floor.
"This one was loaded." He said, reaching down and picking up the bullets. He sat down the bullets and revolver and went back to looking.
He spent another ten minutes looking before he found something he liked. He had his back turned to us, so we couldn't see what he picked. He picked it up and held it in his hands, testing the weight. He turned it over in his hands a couple times before nodding.
"This'll do." He said quietly.
"Good. Now, which one is it?" Uncle Evan asked.
He turned to us an presented the gun.
It was a Revolver, and a fancy one. The body was polished to a shine, and the grip was a dark brown wood. Maybe mahogany? I couldn't tell exactly. I could see that there was a pattern engraved on the polished nickel that made up the gun's body. It fit him, though. Surprisingly, it was kind of hot, seeing my usually docile boyfriend standing there in the black leather jacket I'd given him for Christmas, holding a revolver.
"Doesn't Rick use one of those in The Walking Dead?" I asked my Uncle, pointing to the gun.
My Uncle raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah, he does. You sure about that, Jude?" He asked Jude.
"Yeah. None of the others seemed... right. This one though." Jude said, "It's perfect. It's a revolver. I like the weight. I like the way it looks. What kind is it?"
"It's a Colt. Colt Python, to be precise." Uncle Evan said, "It fires .357 Magnum rounds. It's a powerful gun. You sure this is what you want? The kickback on these things can be pretty bad if you don't know how to handle it. Not usually a gun I'd recommend to beginners."
"Thanks for the warning, but yeah. I'm sure." Jude said.
"And if you are going to use that one," Uncle Evan said, "You gotta take care of it. Treat it with extra care. That belonged to a very dear friend who passed away a couple of years ago. He left it to me in his will, along with couple dozen grand."
"I promise." Jude said.
"What does the engraving say?" I asked curiously.
"It says... 'Persuasion and Reason'." Jude said with a soft snort of disbelief, and looked at my Uncle with a raised eyebrow, "Really?"
"Always did have a flair for the dramatics, my friend did." Uncle Evan said with a soft laugh.
End Flashback:
Anyway, back to the present. He spent the next three months after that day teaching us everything he knew about the guns we had chose. How to take care of them, how to disassemble them, clean them, and reassemble them. He taught us the names of all the parts, which took longer with me because my Glock has more parts than the Colt Python that Jude had chosen. The more I learned about the gun, the less afraid of it I was. I saw it for what it was. It was a tool, that was only as dangerous as the person who wielded it.
Today, we were going to the shooting range. They had finally deemed us ready.
We pulled up in front of the place, and the first thing I noticed was that it was empty.
"Why is nobody here?"
"They're closed." My Uncle said, sounding completely unconcerned about what sounded like a major problem.
"Then how are going to do this?" Jude asked.
"I own the place." Uncle Evan said.
I snorted.
"Of course you do." I said, "Why am I surprised?"
"Don't know." My Uncle said happily, spinning around to face me, "You really should know by now to expect the unexpected with me. Hehe."
Simultaneously, Stef, Jude and I rolled our eyes at the overgrown child as we got out of the car. Jude and I walked to the trunk and retrieved the cases which held our weapons of choice. My Uncle was carrying a large case of his own. After my Uncle unlocked all seven-fricken-teen locks on the front door we were directed straight to the shooting range. The booth had a large box full of smaller boxes full of ammunition sitting on the floor.
"Okay, here's how this is gonna work." My Uncle said, "We haven't got long. I gotta be to pick up Albus in an hour. You are gonna go one at a time. We'll go slowly at first. The first few boxes of bullets set out are blanks, they're to give you an idea of the kickback you two will feel. Once you're used to the kickback of the guns, we'll go one shot at a time, then we'll move up once you've gotten used to it. Connor, you can go first."
I gulped, and stepped up to the booth. I sat the case on the counter and opened it, withdrawing the Glock and its magazine.
"Alright." Uncle Evan said, "Now fill the magazine with the blanks out of the box."
I did as I was told, gently inserting the tiny metal cartridges into the magazine. When it was full to its seventeen round capacity, I slid it into the grip of the pistol, making sure it latched with a click.
"Okay." Uncle Evan continued, "Now point the gun down range. Brace yourself. The recoil on a 9mm isn't too bad, but you still gotta be careful."
I pointed the gun down range, with my Uncle stepping forward to correct my stance slightly.
"Okay, now grip it tightly." He said, "And when you're ready, pull the trigger."
He slid a pair of noise cancelling headphones onto my head to cancel out most of the sound of the shot. I clenched my eyes shut, and took a calming breath.
I moved my finger to the trigger, and slowly, I pulled it back.
POP.
The gun leapt in my hand, making me jump. It wasn't a very violent recoil, in fact it was light I barely had to readjust my aim, but it still took me by surprise. I looked at my Uncle for further instruction.
"Good. Didn't jump as badly as I thought you would. Go Again." Uncle Evan said, "Keep going until you're used to the recoil and then we'll move up to live ammo."
I nodded and replaced the headphones. I pointed the gun back down the range. I pulled the trigger until I heard a click, signaling that I was empty.
I turned back to my Uncle.
"I think I'm used to it now." I said.
"Okay, load it up with live rounds." He said. "
I did as I was told. I noticed that the live rounds felt a little heavier than the blanks, but the reasoning for that was obvious.
"As you pull the trigger, exhale slowly." My Uncle instructed, "Squeeze the trigger, don't jerk it. You'll miss it by a mile if you do that. Try not to flinch. Fire at the target down range when you're ready."
I nodded in comprehension. I pointed the gun down the range. I looked down the sights, aligning my aim with the head of the practice dummy.
I breathed in deeply, and as I exhaled, I squeezed the trigger.
POP.
"Good. Keep going." My Uncle said, "Don't just aim for the head. Aim for the chest."
I did as he was told until I heard the telltale click of an empty magazine.
"Okay, let's go see how you did."
I put the gun back down on the counter, flicking the safety on out of reflex. He went down range and retrieved the dummy.
"Color me impressed." He said, "Exceptional for a first time."
"Really?" I asked.
"Yeah. Seventeen live shots fired, and out of those, fourteen hits, two of which are to the head, the rest of which are in the chest. I'm counting... eight kill shots."
"Damn Connor." Jude said. I grinned at him.
"Your turn."
He smirked and stepped up to the booth next to mine. I stood back, standing next to Stef, watching as my Uncle instructed my boyfriend.
Jude popped the cylinder of the gun open, and loaded the six blank cartridges into it. He pointed the gun down range.
"Okay, now you got to grip it tightly."
Jude's grip on the gun was nearly white knuckled.
"Be ready for the kickback." My Uncle said, "This thing is gonna buck pretty hard. Fire when ready."
Jude nodded, a determined glint in his eye.
Without another second's hesitation, he squeezed the trigger.
The revolver bucked in his hand with an almighty BANG. I was proud to notice that he didn't flinch as badly as I did. He pulled the trigger again, and the same thing happened. He turned to my Uncle.
"It's not as bad as I thought it'd be." Jude said, his tone one of surprise, "I thought it would be a lot worse."
He fired it until the remaining four blanks had been used.
"Can I try live ammo now?" Jude asked.
"You sure you're ready?" My Uncle asked.
Jude nodded.
"Okay. Go for it."
Jude opened the cylinder and inserted the six live bullets into it. He spun the cylinder once before snapping it closed. He pointed it back down range, and fired.
Again, the gun let out an almighty BANG, and jumped in Jude's grip. Jude narrowed his eyes at the dummy. I knew what he was doing. He was imagining that the dummy was somebody he hated. With a soft growl, he fired again and again until the gun clicked empty. He sat the gun down, and turned to me as my Uncle went to retrieve the dummy.
"That was weirdly therapeutic." He said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I was imagining the dummy was Liam." He admitted softly, "Is that bad?"
"Not to me. No." I said.
"Jesus Christ, Foster. You sure you haven't done this before?"
We all turned towards my Uncle's shocked exclamation.
"Yeah pretty sure." Jude said, "Why? Did I do good?"
"Good? More like spectacular. Three in the head, three in the chest." He said, "You did better than I did the first time I shot that thing."
Jude looked thunderstruck.
"Um. Wow... uh. Really?" He mumbled incoherently.
"Yeah. Really." He said, before stepping up to the booth with his own case, "We gotta go pretty soon, so I'm gonna fire off a couple with this before we go."
He opened it and pulled out a bunch of parts and started piecing the gun together.
It looked old. The stock was made of wood, and it had a round magazine.
"What kind of gun is that?" Jude asked.
"Thompson Submachine Gun." I answered, recognizing it, "I saw it an old gangster movie once. You can use in a lot of the Call of Duty games."
"Oh yeah. Tommy Gun." Jude said, "I remember now."
My uncle pointed it down range, and with a devilish smile, pulled the trigger.
I loud series of pops erupted as the antique gun sprayed the whole range with bullets. It only lasted for a few seconds before the gun clicked empty.
"Alright." He said, "Now that I got that out of my system."
Jude and I collected the Glock and the Python, put them back in their cases, and held them out for my Uncle to take.
I didn't expect his response.
"Keep them."
We both stared at him in disbelief.
"Huh?"
"You picked them." He said, "You know them inside out. You get to keep them. And when you turn 18 and get your concealed weapons permits, you'll get to carry them. They're yours. Jude, when it's not at the range, Stef is gonna keep it in her room. Connor, your dad is gonna hold yours. Understood?"
"Yeah. Understood."
AN#2: Please leave reviews. When and If I hit 65 reviews, I'll try to upload two chapters in a day.