6. A Wolf in a Suit
For the next week Sylvie was in and out of the shooting range. She continued to astonish and amaze with her ability to hit any target she wanted, regardless of whether or not she could see it. Some dubbed her the new “Annie Oakley”, and her times at the range were often crowded as people came to see her shoot her rifle. Albert had capitalized on the situation, promising her free ammunition as long as she came between the hours of two and three in the afternoon. Event charged people for the privilege of seeing her shoot, and extra for talking with her. He had even convinced her to do a few lessons for a fee. Sylvie was a little uncomfortable with the notion, but agreed to give it a try. Today would be her first lesson in she was terrified.
She walked up to the admissions booth for the range and smiled at the girl with braces who waved her past with no comment. There was already a huge line that stretched clear to the parking lot. Sylvie had been startled to see that several of the cars were from out of state. She knew either their of course, but it frightened her just the same that she would attract such a crowd again. She closed her eyes, and a moment she was back in the circus in the ring, performing in front of a huge jeering crowd. With a gasp she opened her eyes and pulled herself back to the present.
She stared in dismay at the line formed to pick of ammunition from the counter. It would take an hour to get through that, but what choice did she have? None whatsoever. Well, I had better get in there or I will be here all day, and I certainly don’t want to be here all the people poking and prodding at me. I swear if that creep tries to touch my haunch one more time I will kick him clear to the moon! She glowered at the freckle faced youth who quickly put his hands up and faded back into the crowd.
A tap at her shoulder made her turn around. It was the guy from the counter. In his hand he held three boxes of ammunition for her rifle. Sylvie tried to protest, saying she would wait her turn in line like everyone else. The man shook his head.
“Your free ammunition last only from 2 to 3.” He told her. “And Albert was to make sure you get out on the range in time for the people to see you. He’s reserved a place for you on the range over there. The crowds already gathered. You don’t want to disappoint your fans now, do you?” He laughed.
Sylvie gritted her teeth, “I suppose not.” She tried to say and adjusting town. She had the suspicion she failed at his frown. To cover herself, she accepted the boxes of ammunition and strode towards the only open spot on the range. Quite obviously it was going to be hers. Great. Smooth move. Now he thinks I’m an idiot, or a snob. And I’m not quite sure which is worse. She shook her head. Why was it, she wondered, that whatever you thought you made two steps forward there was always something to throw you back? Maybe it was Karma, or something. Although she wondered briefly what she had possibly done to offend the gods that they would punish her like this.
What she had, or hadn’t done would have to wait, she came here to shoot and these people wanted to show. Well, she wouldn’t disappoint.
Taking her place, she said her rifle down on the bench that had been provided. Briefly, she glanced at the stalls that marked the left side of the range. She remembered shooting in one of them with her father not so long ago, before all this happened. It did no good to dwell on the past however, and she quickly busied herself with checking her rifle. She thought the trigger seemed a little loose, it pulled far too easily. Removing a small jeweler’s screwdriver from her bag, she tightened the screws and tested again. Satisfied, she returned the screwdriver to its place.
Loading her ammunition slowly and deliberately, she was aware of Albert speaking to the crowd. She listened with only half an ear as he explained how she was loading ammunition properly and about gun safety in general. She was impressed at how he actually made loading her weapon seemed interesting. Small jokes here and there helped, but really there is only so much you can do with that particular topic.
When she finished, she swung her rifle of to her shoulder and took aim. The target was a good hundred yards in front of her, with several small circles painted in red staggered about his body. There was one, she knew, that represented his heart. She would shoot that first. Breathing in and out slowly, she let her cares and worries slide away. The only thing that mattered was that red circle. She knew every detail, saw every flaw. She was one with her target.
Crack! Her first shot silenced the crowd. Albert invited those on the edge of the crowd to lift their binoculars and look at the target. Murmurs spread as they confirmed she had hit dead center over the heart.
“You see folks! Truly the Eighth Wonder of the World, our own Sure Shot Sylvie!” So he started to hear her stage name spoken. Briefly she flashed back to the time of the circus we she had first heard it. Her arm trembled, the gun wavered. Get ahold of yourself, she whispered fiercely in her mind. You should have known that name would follow you. It does not mean Nightshade is watching over you, it just means the Internet is being its usual efficient self. And what do you expect? Your shooting guaranteed a name like that. Go with it. Taking a calming breath, she tuned out Albert and his nattering. She was one with the target once more.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Three more shots were down. Splinters flew from the target as its wobbled back and forth. No one could see where the target was now, it seemed impossible to hit the red dots, but Sylvie let her shoot not where the target was but where it would be. She fired twice more and paused to let the target stabilize.
She stood with a forbidding stare downrange. The wind came up, catching her hair and pulling her bangs back from her face. It was getting rather long; she would have to ask her mother to trim it again. After what seemed an interminable wait, the plywood man stopped waving. People had their eyes glued to their binoculars waiting. Some kept adjusting the lenses while others would take the glasses from their face, wipe their eyes and put them back up. Others simply let them down slowly. Once more excited murmurs spring up as a crowd realized she had hit at the center of every target on the waving dummy.
It was incredible, astonishing! They couldn’t believe she had done it. Sylvie tried to suppress her disdain at their shock. What was it with people and their assumption that women couldn’t shoot? Many women were as good as or better than men. Jamie Gray the Olympic Gold Medalist came to her mind, and of course, her name sake Annie Oakley. She shook her head. These were simple shots. It was time for the main event.
Spinning around, she faced the people standing behind her. The leaned back in surprise, and stood dumbfounded as she swung her rifle up to her shoulder without looking. She knew exactly where the target was, and she pulled the trigger.
Cra-Cra-Cra-Cra-Crack! She moved the slide so fast with her hand that the bullets sounded nearly automatic. In her mind she was counting, and knew she had fired only nine shots. That left one more. Turning around, she faced the now ragged target and searched for her mark. A metal pole had been placed in the field for exactly this purpose, set directly across from the main target. She aimed at it, the crowd waited in silence, her finger eased back on the trigger, it slowed her even further, her breathing nearly stopped…
Crack! Whaaaangggg! The sound of the ricochet was the loudest noise on the range, but it was nothing compared to the faint sound of plywood crunching under the bullet as it raced through the shoulder directly into the heart.
Sylvie lowered the rifle to her side, switching the safety on. She did not need to look to know that every shot that hit her target in a tight cluster. The stunned silence of the crowd was enough. Even Albert, who had seen her shoot before, was quiet. You’d think, after seeing me shoot, what is a now, a dozen times? That he’d be immune to this nonsense. Sylvie suppressed and others to shake her head in disgust. We must be nice to the crowd, she reminded herself. After all, it was this crowd that was paying for her ammunition and her ticket. It wouldn’t do to drive them away, yet.
As expected, Albert regained his voice and began asking the crowd if they would like shooting lessons from “Sure-Shot Sylvie”. Not surprisingly there were dozens of hands in the air that Sylvie could see, and probably several that she couldn’t. She suppressed a groan. If Albert thinks he can keep me here to teach all these people one at a time, he’s nuts!
Albert recognized the fact that she would not be able to teach all these people. Instead, he randomly picked five people from the audience and told them that they had won a lesson from her. The next six slots available would be on a first-come first-served basis with a fee of two hundred dollars an hour. Sylvie shook her head. If Albert thought he could get that kind of money for a lesson… She couldn’t even think of a word that could describe that nonsense.
“I’ll pay three hundred!” A voice hollered from the back.
“I’ll match that!” Came another. In moments the clamor began as people begin bidding against each other.
Sylvie felt her mouth drop open in shock. Had the world gone mad around her?! Who would pay for such nonsense like this! Yet the numbers kept going up as the bidding rose, and Sylvie felt her knees start wobbling as the prices went up. Finally, the numbers petered off at around five thousand, and Sylvie began to wonder if she could make any lesson worth that amount, when a new voice called out from the back.
“I will pay eight thousand for a lesson, and an additional four more for another hour with her after the match.”
Sylvie stared at the man, everyone did. He was paying twelve thousand for her time?! Sylvie couldn’t believe it. It had to be a joke, a prank by someone that had way too much time on their hands. He couldn’t pay that, it was ridiculous.
All of these thoughts and more went through her head as she watched the man calmly walk up to Albert and hand him a large suitcase. Albert shakily opened the lid and whistled at the sheer amount of cash that was inside of it. He suddenly looked hard.
“You’re not from around here, are you stranger?”
“No, but what difference does that make? I assure you, the money is quite good.”
“It makes a difference because I will have my eye on you. If you try anything at all…anything.” He ended with a growl. There was an angry mutter from the crowd, and Sylvie saw several townsfolk tighten their grip on the butts of hunting rifles.
“Hey, hey, hey! Take it easy everyone. The man paid for his lesson, so let’s give him one.” Sylvie jumped in. “Come on, Mister…?”
“Wolfe, Thomas Kinkaid Wolfe. And thank you.” Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers.
They walked calmly to an empty stall set near the back of the range. It was just a pair of plywood walls that were set up on either side, leaving the front and back open. There was only enough room for one person at a time to shoot, so Sylvie stopped them just before going inside, and began to run down the basics.
“Okay, what type of gun do you want to learn about?”
“Rifle” His voice was firm, and his gaze steady. He shrugged out of his black suit coat and undid the tie that held his shirt closed.
“Okay. Well, the first thing you’ve got to know about the rifle is that it is deadly to anything in front of the barrel. You always want to make sure the piece is unloaded with the safety on until you have a target, and you only take the safety off when you have the gun aiming at what you want to shoot at.” Sylvie could hear the nervousness in her voice and tried to bury it under professionalism. Fortunately, the man seemed to be interested in her words, and she kept on.
“The rifle is made for long distance shooting. You can hit targets with a rifle much further away than with a pistol, and more accurately at almost any range. A pistol has only a limited range before it becomes inaccurate or loses too much momentum. A rifle can go much further. Some of the bigger ones can go nearly a mile. Now, this piece doesn’t shoot that far, but it can go more than two hundred yards.”
The man held the proffered rifle and examined it closely. Sylvie realized that the man was much more familiar with guns than he was letting on. His quick, decisive search of her rifle told her that. He was looking for any modifications that she had made. Tough luck buddy. That rifle was given to me that way, and it’s practically stock. Just has a longer than normal barrel is all.
Sylvie decided to prove to herself that this was a set-up. Telling the man to go ahead and set the rifle on the sandbags inside the stall, she watched closely as he sighted downrange.
“Like this?”
“Exactly, although you might want to bring your arm in a little more. There you go. Now, take the safety off and get ready to fire.”
Wolfe switched off the safety and took careful aim. Crack! The rifle bucked gently in his hands, but he expertly controlled it. What Sylvie did not expect was for the bullet to hit low and to the left of the target. A clear miss! She frowned, after all the small cues that she had seen, she thought he was an expert simply looking to pick up a couple of tips. She decided to try again.
“All right, that hit low and to the left. Compensate for that by bringing the rifle up a small amount and to the right. Make sure you take the time to figure out your distance.”
He obediently adjusted his aim and took his time to pull the trigger. Again, it was slightly low and to the left, but much closer in this time. A third shot took out the bottom half of the target. Sylvie continued to coach him though, and his last three were almost right on the mark.
“There you go. Well, I’m afraid that’s the lesson for today.” Sylvie chirped cheerfully. She knew Thomas had been playing with her, it was obvious from the get go that he was a much better marksman than he had let on. The question was why? Sylvie wasn’t sure, but vowed to be much more cautious in the second meeting.
The rest of the class passed about how Sylvie expected. Everyone seemed to think that she could magically impart her skill to them and let them shoot perfectly with almost no effort. It took forever to beat that notion out of one snot-nosed brat who thought he was hot stuff, though he was the worst shooter that Sylvie had ever seen. By the time she was done with him and his rich mother, she was ready to throttle both of them. Albert had seen the look in her eye and hustled them off as quick as a flash.
Finally, she turned around and realized the last lesson was over for the day. She about cried out a thank you, when she remembered Wolfe. She found him sipping water near the bar. A lot of the townsfolk had congregated there, and were chatting quietly, seemingly absorbed in their conversations. Albert was playing bartender, plying everyone with drinks.
“Hello, Mr. Wolfe.” She gave him a cold stare as she came up to the bar. If he thought he’d fooled her on the range, he was sadly mistaken.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Mathison. I’m pleased that you were able to join me. Please, won’t you…er…um.” For once, he seemed flustered, and Sylvie actually chuckled. The poor guy looked so embarrassed at his social gaffe that she helped him out by taking no notice.
“Albert, can I have a glass of water, please?”
“Sure thing, Sylvie.” The bartender got a huge tankard out from under the bar. Where had he gotten that? Probably from one of the curio shops in town or something. It really wasn’t any of her business, and she accepted the glass gratefully.
Sipping it slowly, she savored the glacial chill as she looked over the brim at Wolfe, who had recomposed himself. She waited.
“As I said, I’m glad that you were able to see me on such short notice. I suppose you are curious on why I wanted to have this meeting.”
“The thought had crossed my mind.” Sylvie admitted. “You are clearly much more expert with guns than you let on, and it was obvious that the whole thing was geared to get my interest. To be frank, had you shot to the best of your abilities, you probably would have gotten more of a reaction from me.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Yeah. So why don’t you go ahead and get to the point already?”
“Very well. I represent a corporation that wishes to understand exactly what gave you this unique and wonderful shape and ability. It represents a…”
“You can stop right there, Mr. Wolfe.” Sylvie interrupted coldly. “We made a promise, Taryn and I. We would never get involved with anyone who wanted to use us again. Nightshade warned us about people like you.”
“May I finish first?”
“No. Now you’ve had your piece, I’m going now.”
“But Ms. Mathison, we can pay you a considerable amount of money for tests.”
“N-O. I will not be used like some…freak!” Sylvie felt her eyes narrow in fury and realized she was pawing the ground. Gah! She thought she had that under control!
“We aren’t going to use you. If you will just give me a minute to explain what it is we want.” Wolfe reached out and grabbed her hand. “I…”
Whatever he was going to say died with the sound of a multitude of clicks. Sylvie and Wolfe stared around in a bit of a daze. Every townsman and hunter in the bar had pistols and rifles out, some held loosely in their hands, others on the table, a few of the bolder ones were actually pointing it at Wolfe. Albert made no pretense of his. There was a solid cha-CLICK as he gave the shotgun in his hand one pump.
Sylvie recovered first and pulled her hand out of Wolfe’s suddenly limp grip. “Mr. Wolfe, I believe we are done here.” She said with as much dignity as she could.
“And you can get your slimy, no-good carcass outta my bar.” Albert growled. “And don’t forget to pay your tab.”
“Of course.” Wolfe collected himself and eased his hand into his pocket. There was a stretched feeling in the air, a moment where it could either ease or snap like a rubber band. He came out with his wallet and gently laid his money on the bar. Standing up he turned towards the exit.
“Ms. Mathison, I’m afraid I handled this poorly. I hope that you will give me another chance where I can explain my offer more fully.”
“Don’t count on it.” Sylvie fired back.
Wolfe shrugged and strode from the bar. Sliding his sunglasses across his eyes and taking no notice of the weapons trained on him. He had to know that a simple sneeze would turn him into Swiss Cheese, yet he acted like it was another day at the park. Sylvie admired his aplomb as he left. A moment later the sound of an engine pulling away told her that he was gone.
“I’m sorry, Sylvie. I din’t mean for this to happen.” Albert said apologetically.
“It’s all right, Albert. Something like this was bound to happen eventually. I just hoped it wouldn’t have happened so fast.” Sylvie felt a huge sigh coming and suppressed it. She didn’t want to hurt Albert’s feelings and further, it was obvious he felt bad as it was already. She decided to go ahead and leave before things got any worse.
“Thanks for the ammo and the water, Albert.” Sylvie told him, and turned to the crowd. “And thanks everyone…for…well…yeah. Umm, thanks.” She managed.
“Don’t worry Sylvie.”
“Yeah, it’s all good!”
“Take it easy girl.”
“You just go on home sweety.” Natalie, the usual bartender, said as she came up. Smacking Albert upside the head, she shot him a look that promised mayhem later and turned back to Sylvie with a smile on her plump face. “Albert here’s got the bill, and don’t you worry about Mr. Wolfe. If I see him again, I’ll run him off.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Oleander” Sylvie said politely. You were always polite to Natalie, or you could end up on the barstool receiving a fierce lecture on social decay and common courtesy.
“Run along dear, and come back again.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Sylvie stopped just short of bobbing a courtesy and fled. As she walked out, she could hear Natalie starting in on Albert about the shooting lessons and the meeting.
Poor Albert. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes right now. Heck, probably not for a week! Sylvie shuddered in sympathy and started home.
As she passed a long row of houses and turned towards her street, a black suburban with the chevy bowtie gleaming on the front pulled alongside her. Sylvie kept a wary eye on it and eased her hand towards her gun. She grabbed it and pulled it out when she saw Thomas Wolfe rolling down his window.
“Hello Miss Sylvie.” He began smoothly.
“Get the hell away from me, or I’m calling the chief.” Sylvie snarled. She made no pretense about being nice, and had him covered with the rifle in a heartbeat. Wolfe looked impressed at how fast she managed to get the gun pointed at him, and he held his hands out of the car window.
“Are you really going to shoot me?” he asked.
“I’m thinking about it.” Sylvie bluffed. “I will if you make any funny moves, now get lost.”
“I merely wanted to explain myself more fully, Sylvie. If you will just let me finish my spiel, I promise I will leave you alone.”
“I already know what it is you want, Mr. Wolfe,” Sylvie growled, “And I won’t be anyone’s guinea pig! Ever. So you can just drive out of Red Leaf.”
Wolfe sighed. “Look. I realize you aren’t going to listen, but I’m going to go ahead and say it anyway. I represent the Golden Star Corporation. We do a lot of Defense Contracts for the government, and your unique situation is of particular interest to us. The fact that your body has been mutated from its normal form is a quantum leap in biowarfare technology. One that we desperately need to understand both to counteract its effects, and prepare for future attacks. We are making an offer to each of the people that have been affected so far. Two million dollars apiece for fifteen weeks at our top research laboratory here in the state. We will of course offer reimbursements for any inconvenience to you and the others, plus provide top-quality care from our onsite health staff and education people.”
“You want to turn me into a weapon to use on someone else.” Sylvie said bluntly.
“No. We want to be able to defend ourselves in case of attack.”
“Well, you can kiss the biowar…whatzit goodbye. It was one man with a friggin costume shop and his ‘special’ back room costumes that did this. If you want anything else, you’ll have to track him down. Now, I don’t see you getting out of here.”
“A costume?” Wolfe stared.
“Yup. Wait, two million for each…have you approached Taryn and the others about this?!”
“Well, no. You were the first one to approach as it was known that you liked the shooting range. I was going to approach Miss Grogan next and…”
“Don’t you dare! You get out of here. And if you go anywhere near Taryn I’ll…I’ll…call the chief and have you arrested! Now get!”
Wolfe seemed taken aback, but he rolled the window up and drove down the street. Sylvie watched it turn the corner and disappear.
Sylvie realized she was shaking. Nightshade’s words about being nothing more than a science experiment came back to haunt her. She needed to warn Taryn and the chief, now. Sylvie started to run.