Chương 38: Book 2 - Chapter 9 B

I carefully unlocked the three deadbolts on the door. Everyone was eagerly waiting behind me. I walked into the brightly lit cavernous space. They peered in to be sure it was safe and walked in behind.

"Don't cross the yellow lines on the floor," I told them.

"Nothing's immediately dangerous. I just need you to be safe by not touching anything."

"Why do you have an oven?" Mom asked, with some surprise.

"I have to bake the material before it will filter water."

"So you are making brownies," Matt joked again.

"Just where did you get an oven from, Johnny?"

"It was from the basement kitchen. It was going to get thrown out, so I brought it up here." Dad, looking at the tires, laughed.

"It looks like you used a lot of things that were thrown out."

"I paid for those, but yes. A lot of this stuff came from the junkyard. I could have paid more for new stuff, but the product would have been just the same."

"It's good to be frugal," Grandpa commended.

"Well some things I had to buy new. Like the cupola," I said pointing it out. Dad stood awkwardly as he checked out the equipment. I could see he really wanted to cross the line and check things out more closely. I appreciated his restraint.

"Thank you for the tour, Johnny. I'm glad to see you haven't moved a bed up here," Mom said, after looking everything over.

"I work here, Mom. It only felt like I was living here the past couple weeks," I said, then turned to the whole group.

"Please do remember that some of this equipment can be dangerous so please don't come in here unless invited and accompanied."

"We understand. I'm very impressed by you, you know. I can't imagine all the things you could make, but to know that clean water was the first big project you took on makes me very proud of you," Dad said.

"Thanks Dad," I told him.

"Yes. We are all very proud of you," Mom reiterated. I gave her as big a hug as I got in return. Saturday was an experience. On our way to the gun range after lunch, we got pulled over by a police officer. Matt hadn't been driving fast, or anything else. I asked him what was up, as he slowed and pulled to the shoulder.

"I don't know," he said. The officer came walking up to the van, he was State Patrol.

"Where you goin' boy?" the officer asked Matt.

"I'm the chauffeur for Mr Cook. He's in the back. We are headed to the Tulsa Gun Club. He wants to learn to shoot." The officer paused a moment and looked closer in the side window at me. I smiled and waved. He looked at us thoughtfully.

"The one up by the airport?"

"Yes, sir, he is scheduled for lessons on his new rifle."

"Well I won't keep you then, you fellas have a nice day," he said and sauntered back to his patrol car. As Matt rolled his window up, he looked at me in the rear-view mirror. I gave him a big smile.

"DWB," I told him.

"What's DWB?" he asked as he carefully pulled back into traffic on the highway.

"Driving While Black. Officer's a bigot and an asshole," I told him with a firm voice. He laughed it off.

"I've had it happen before. Usually if I was in uniform they were a bit more respectful." Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. I closed my eyes a moment.

"That officer doesn't know it, but his wife is cheating on him with his brother-in-law, his wife's sister's husband. Right now, in fact."

"What? Really?" he said.

"Yup, she's pregnant, but figures it won't matter 'cause the two guys look enough alike no one will know who the dad is. It won't matter right up until her sister catches her. That asshole is going to have a very bad year." Matt's laughter rolled through the van.

"I wonder if you didn't just make that up to cheer me up." He chuckled all the way to the gun range. When I arrived I learned that Matt had been telling the truth. I did have a new rifle. It was waiting for me at the gun range. Matt had paid for it, a year's membership for both of us, ammunition, ear protection and the lessons. When he gave the president of the club a non-disclosure agreement, and $500 for product testing, I knew he was here to have some fun too.

While I was going through training, and taking a test on a safety booklet I was required to read, Matt and the president of the club were taking turns shooting at my black filter cloth. They clipped it to a piece of steel and put it at the end of the open-air range. When the club president saw what it did with a rifle round, he opened up his personal arsenal. When he saw that it survived those, he called a couple buddies in with heavier, maybe not completely legal hardware.

They tested it for an hour, while I finally got a chance to shoot with my instructor. When you know the result of every action, there simply is no way to accidentally miss. I could remember a second or two into the future, and adjust my aim accordingly. So I only pulled the trigger of my Remington. 22 rifle when I knew I'd make perfect little holes in the center ring from the first shot.

"I'm sorry there is no way you haven't ever shot a rifle before," my instructor insisted.

"It's true. But I am known for being gifted. Good genes," I said. He glanced at Matt, then back at me.

"Is that your daddy, boy?"

"No, sir. That's my bodyguard and driver."

"Huh, well let's see how you do on moving targets," he said and continued the practice. When Matt came over to see how I was doing, he wasn't surprised by my scores.

"I expected him to be good. He's got a good eye," he told my instructor.

"He really hasn't shot before?"

"Nope, his Dad's not a hunter. I knew he'd enjoy it," Matt told the man.

"He does have a silly grin on his face," the instructor said.

"John, want to try my pistol?"

"Yes! Please!" I responded, safetying my rifle. Matt took the opportunity to do some target practice while he taught me the ins and outs of pistol use, Marine style. His natural charisma and sergeant experience came through. He turned to the instructor, "Anything you want to add?"

"No, sir. That was a fine bit of training and show and tell."

"I think I'd like to practice some more. Do you have a gun he can use to shoot in the lane next to me?"

"We do. I'll be right back with it." Soon I was firing a much more difficult to aim weapon. The instructor was talking me through the same steps Matt had just covered. I purposely missed the first couple shots.

"The sights on this thing are really off," I commented to the instructor.

"I'll have to adjust my aim." Afterwards I hit the target every time, never more than a half inch off of the bullseye.

"Yup, you're a natural shooter," Matt said, enjoying my instructor's disbelief.

"Need to get you registered for a competition."

"I have a list of scheduled shooting competitions. I'll grab it for you when we leave the line," the instructor said rather eagerly. I finished the magazine, put the gun on safe, and stepped back from the firing line.

"What about shooting a further distance?" I asked.

"We should have you try a scoped rifle, sniper style," Matt suggested.

"Now that sounds fun," I agreed. The instructor retrieved the equipment and showed me to the longest range they had. Matt helped me sight it in.

"This is fun, plinking away at distant targets," I told Matt, as he watched with binoculars and I lay on a tarp in the dirt, rifle sitting on a rest.

"Let's try having you take the shots I call out," he said.

"I can do that," I agreed, as he started naming the targets. I worked to hit them as quickly as he could name them. When we were done, everything got put carefully away, stored in the back of the van, and we went home.

"You didn't need lessons, did you?" Matt asked as he pulled onto the road to head home.

"Of course I need lessons. How else do I establish qualifications? That's why I'm going to College, that's why I'm writing books, software and manuals. I'm establishing qualifications, credentials and competency.

"If I stand before the press to make an announcement, I need to be heard, believed and recognized."

"Why shooting?" he asked.

"Seven gold medals at the 1988 Seoul Olympics," I told him.

"Really? That's three years from now. Can you be old enough to be in the Olympics? How old will you be then?"

"I'll be 12. The rules allow Juniors, that is people under 21, to shoot in competition with Seniors when there are no Junior events. Juniors can also choose to shoot in Senior or Junior events when both are offered."

"Will that be the youngest ever gold Olympic medal?"

"No, that record is held by a ten year old during the second Olympic games in 1900."