Every Dark Little Thing by T.S. Ward

Author:T.S. Ward [Ward, T.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tristyn Ward
Published: 2021-05-28T22:00:00+00:00

Day One Hundred and Eighty-Nine

The girl might come to the wrong conclusions with almost every question asked, but she’s never exactly wrong about it. She’s smart, in a roundabout way. But she’s also got shit aim.

I try to pay attention to the patrols while I’m standing here with this girl and a pistol and a target thirty feet away, ear muffs on both of us. The patrols don’t go down range of the targets. Smart. But I wonder if that’s the same in the middle of the night.

Mostly, I let the girl shoot blindly and offer whatever I can remember being told on hunts. Other things that Soldier told me, too, though I keep the majority of that to myself.

I tell her to be absolutely certain that what she’s shooting is what she wants to be shooting. There’s no point wasting bullets when you can be smart and use one where it matters. Which doesn’t seem to resonate with her.

Eventually, I get fed up, grab the pistol, and remove the clip. I bring her a rifle instead, have her line up her shot, and tell her not to take it until I say go. But I don’t say go. I crouch down next to her and eye up the few people who are wondering what the hell’s going on.

“Can I shoot yet or what?” She complains.

Her finger rests beside the trigger rather than on it, something I haven’t told her, something someone new to this wouldn’t think of. Her posture is nearly perfect. The way she’s lining her sights up—it’s like when you take your first sip of alcohol in front of a parent when it isn’t actually your first sip.

She’s faking her shit aim.

“First, you’re going to tell me who taught you how to shoot,” I say, “Then, you’re going to explain why you bothered asking to learn in the first place.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Probably thinking about just pulling the trigger anyway. But then she answers me, as if she trusts me and I’m some friend to gab to about these things.

“There’s this boy who’s been teaching me, out in the woods.”

I snort a laugh. “A boy, right, right. How old’s this boy?”

“Seventeen,” she says.

“And you’re what? Thirteen?”

“Fifteen.”

“Oh, alright, then. So there’s this boy who’s almost an adult and you’ve been going out into the woods alone with him. Sounds kosher. Go on. What’s the deal with me being stuck with you here?” I rest my forehead on my fingers, closing my eyes.

She groans. “I didn’t want to get stuck with you. Wanted my dad to teach me.”

“To what, impress him? What if he wasn’t around? Would you have learned how to do this anyway? Would you have gone out of your way to learn a skill that can save your life during the goddamn apocalypse, or would you just have suffered without it? Listen to me, Lisa. There’s no one to impress but yourself, so just get good and be good. Don’t waste your breath trying to flaunt it.

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