To them, I was just one of the girls.
It was sad to think that some of us would soon be kicked out. And it was embarrassing to think that I'd probably be the first. I'd be smart to keep everyone here at a distance.
But when have I ever been smart?
10
My third class of the day turned out to be Weapons 101.
Kadar was the instructor, and he definitely knew what he was talking about. I'd never seen anyone more at ease with guns and knives. It was scary. He made Ryan and Allison look like amateurs as he held up each weapon, told us about it (and what we'd be expected to do with it), then demonstrated its use.
Finally he said, “Line up. You've each been assigned a stall.”
We rushed to obey. I found my stall at the very end, close to the wall. This classroom was different from any of the others. We were inside a large arena with multiple booths, or “stalls,” as Kadar had called them. Each stall offered a waist-high counter and a long, narrow pathway with a target perched at the end. (Each target was a different type of Outer.)
My target just happened to be a Sybilin.
“Thought you'd appreciate that,” Kadar told me with a grin.
“I do.”
“Prove it by nailing him during practice.”
“I'll do my best,” I said, and I meant it. I'd never fired a gun before, but I was suddenly determined to impress Kadar with my “skill.”
“Good. All right, everyone,” he said, moving away from me to pace in front of the group. “You'll switch stalls every day. Don't want you to get complacent. Now,” he continued, “on your counter, you'll find a pyre-gun, a throwing star, and a heat-seeking minigrenade. I know I showed you how to use them, but do any of you have an idea just how much damage those items can do?”
“They kill,” Kitten said, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “That's all we need to know.”
Frowning, Kadar shook his head. “They can kill your opponent, yes. But they can also kill or maim you. That is what you need to know.”
Jenn looked from the weapons to Kadar, from Kadar to the weapons. She paled. “You said ‘maim'. What kind of damage are we talking about here?”
He withdrew a pyre-gun from his waist and held it out for our inspection. “This has three settings. Hot. Hotter. And flames of hell. You can dial each setting like this.” He pinched his fingers on a small black dial and twisted toward the right.
I heard several oohs and ahs.
“Hot will fry your target to a crisp, but they'll probably live to tell the tale. Hotter will kill everything it touches: skin, bone, organ. There's still a chance the target can survive, depending on where you shoot him. Flames of hell will kill your target and anyone standing next to it.”
There were a few more oohs and ahs.
I glanced down at my pyre-gun, drinking in every detail. “There are no numbers on the dial,” I pointed out. “How will we know that we've programmed the right setting?”
“You'll learn the difference.” In the blink of an eye, Kadar spun around and fired at the wall beside us.
I yelped as an amber beam erupted, splitting the room into white and yellow. Spots blinked in front of my eyes. Even where I stood, at the end of the procession line, I felt the heat of the beam, and air burned in my throat.
Eyes wide, I glanced at the wall and saw a black, sizzling circle. I gulped.
What if someone shot me with one of those?
Okay. Back to being unsure about the decision to stay here.
“That wall is comprised of a special metal that will not melt under the hottest of flames, and yet it was blackened. Imagine what the beam could do to something that will melt.” He paused, each second causing the room to thicken with tension. “If you accidentally shoot yourself with this…” Kadar didn't finish his sentence. He let us finish it in our minds. We'd die. No doubt about it.
“Uh, I'm not sure I want to carry one of those,” Jenn said, her voice shaking.
Cara shook her head, dark hair swishing at her temples. “Me, either.”
Kadar rolled his eyes. “Has anyone ever fired a gun before? Not just a pyre-gun, but any type of gun?”
I shook my head, a perfect imitation of Cara. Only Emma raised her hand, and the action was tentative, as if she feared getting in trouble.
“What kind of gun?” Kadar asked her. I was surprised by the gentleness of his tone.
Emma's gaze swept over us nervously, and I noticed she was twisting the sides of her pants with her hands. Her skin was so pale, her tattoo stood out more than usual. “An antique. With bullets.”
He nodded. “Good, sweetheart. That's good. How was your aim?”
Sweetheart? She shrugged and gazed down at her boots. “Okay, I guess.”
“Did you hit what you were aiming at?”
“No,” she admitted softly.
“Well, you will soon.” He stopped in the middle of us and locked his hands behind his back. In that moment, he looked like the quintessential army commander. “I've removed the detonation crystal from each of your guns, so you don't have to worry about frying yourselves or each other—today. That'll come later. All your gun will emit is a harmless beam of light.”
Relief swam through me, as did anticipation. I'd never even held a gun before. My mom found them too dangerous to keep in the house.
“Pick them up,” Kadar said, watching us intently.
I turned to face my counter. The gun was still there, in the middle, staring up at me. It had a black handle, an iridescent center that was clear and bumpy. The barrel was long, thin, and silver. Even though I knew it couldn't fire, my hand shook as I reached out and wrapped my fingers around it and hefted it up.
My brow wrinkled. The gun was lighter than it appeared, weighing no more than a syn-apple.
“Learn it,” Kadar said. “If you treat it right, that little baby will save your life over and over again.”
Little baby. A cute name for a deadly piece of machinery. Somehow, though, it fit. I closed my eyes and allowed my hands to “learn” the weapon, to gauge its nuances. Would my mom freak if she found out what I was doing right now or would she be proud for what I was going to do to protect her? Either way….
“Like it?”
Kadar's question reverberated in my mind as I caressed my thumb over the barrel. “Oh yeah,” I said. I opened my eyes and grinned.
No one else responded. Were the other girls not as entranced with their weapons as I was? I peeked over at them, lined up beside me as they were. Some were already aiming, some were studying the intricacies of the inside chamber.