Read Online Broken Roads: A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World (Broken Lines Book 2) by James Hunt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Hunt
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from them.
“Rule number one when handling guns. Never point it at another person unless you’re ready to pull the trigger.”
Mike brought the rifle up to his shoulder and peered through the sights, scanning the front of the building.
“When you aim you always want to bring the gun to your eyes, not the other way around. When you’re handling a rifle or shotgun keep the butt of the gun firmly tucked against your shoulder. It’ll help with the recoil when you fire. When it’s time to shoot, you want to squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it,” Mike said.
Mike handed the gun back to Clarence. Mike watched him keep the end of the barrel away from the two of them and he brought the rifle up to his shoulder.
“And know where the safety is. You don’t want to be in a situation where you forget it’s on and when you go to squeeze the trigger nothing happens,” Mike said.
Clarence’s thumb found the lever on the side of the rifle and flicked the safety off. He put his finger on the trigger.
“Wait,” Mike said.
Clarence lowered the rifle, taking his hand off the trigger.
“Rule number two: never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to fire. Just keep your finger extended beyond the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,” Mike said.
“Right,” Clarence said.
Mike grabbed the rifle out of Clarence’s hand and clicked the safety back on. He threw the rifle strap over his shoulder and clapped Clarence on the back.
“We’ll take it out back for target practice after breakfast,” Mike said.
“You’ve taught people to shoot before?”
Mike paused, trying to overcome the lump forming in his throat.
“Yes.”
***
Tom and Fay gathered the empty wrappers and cans from breakfast and threw them in the garbage, which was overflowing.
“It’s your turn to take it out,” Tom said.
“Fine,” Fay replied.
Fay tied the open ends of the trash bag together and lifted it out of the can. The bag caught on a crack in the can and split open, dumping trash all over the floor.
“Goddamnit,” Fay yelled.
Tom laughed. Walking back through the kitchen, his laughter echoing through the food court.
Fay threw up a middle finger. She picked up the pieces of trash and dumped them back into the can. Once the mess was cleaned up she dragged the can to the front of the airport.
The can slid across the pavement until she reached the dumpster on the side of the building. She placed the can right next to it, and just then heard a gunshot go off. She immediately ducked for cover.
“Shit,” she murmured.
She glanced around looking for the source of the shot, keeping her head covered. She squinted further down the tarmac and saw Clarence, rifle in hand with Mike behind him, aiming at something in the distance.
Fay covered her ears as the gunshots continued to ring out. She walked to them and could see that both Mike and Clarence had ear protection on. She screamed their names and when that didn’t work she threw an empty soup can at them. She hit Mike square in the back.
Mike took the earpieces off. Clarence clicked the safety on and leaned the rifle up against his shoulder.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Fay asked.
“Mike’s teaching me how to shoot,” Clarence said.
“He’s pretty good,” Mike said.
“Well, it took me a couple tries, but I finally got one.”
Fay walked up to them and saw a row of soup cans set up thirty yards away on top of a luggage carrier.
“You really think this is a good idea? I thought we weren’t supposed to bring attention to ourselves,” Fay said.
“Most people run away from gunshots, not toward them,” Mike said.
Fay grabbed the earpiece off Clarence’s head.
“Where’d you get these?” Fay asked.
“Found them in the ground control locker rooms,” Clarence said.
“Can I try?”
“Rule number one when handling guns. Never point it at another person unless you’re ready to pull the trigger.”
Mike brought the rifle up to his shoulder and peered through the sights, scanning the front of the building.
“When you aim you always want to bring the gun to your eyes, not the other way around. When you’re handling a rifle or shotgun keep the butt of the gun firmly tucked against your shoulder. It’ll help with the recoil when you fire. When it’s time to shoot, you want to squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it,” Mike said.
Mike handed the gun back to Clarence. Mike watched him keep the end of the barrel away from the two of them and he brought the rifle up to his shoulder.
“And know where the safety is. You don’t want to be in a situation where you forget it’s on and when you go to squeeze the trigger nothing happens,” Mike said.
Clarence’s thumb found the lever on the side of the rifle and flicked the safety off. He put his finger on the trigger.
“Wait,” Mike said.
Clarence lowered the rifle, taking his hand off the trigger.
“Rule number two: never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to fire. Just keep your finger extended beyond the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,” Mike said.
“Right,” Clarence said.
Mike grabbed the rifle out of Clarence’s hand and clicked the safety back on. He threw the rifle strap over his shoulder and clapped Clarence on the back.
“We’ll take it out back for target practice after breakfast,” Mike said.
“You’ve taught people to shoot before?”
Mike paused, trying to overcome the lump forming in his throat.
“Yes.”
***
Tom and Fay gathered the empty wrappers and cans from breakfast and threw them in the garbage, which was overflowing.
“It’s your turn to take it out,” Tom said.
“Fine,” Fay replied.
Fay tied the open ends of the trash bag together and lifted it out of the can. The bag caught on a crack in the can and split open, dumping trash all over the floor.
“Goddamnit,” Fay yelled.
Tom laughed. Walking back through the kitchen, his laughter echoing through the food court.
Fay threw up a middle finger. She picked up the pieces of trash and dumped them back into the can. Once the mess was cleaned up she dragged the can to the front of the airport.
The can slid across the pavement until she reached the dumpster on the side of the building. She placed the can right next to it, and just then heard a gunshot go off. She immediately ducked for cover.
“Shit,” she murmured.
She glanced around looking for the source of the shot, keeping her head covered. She squinted further down the tarmac and saw Clarence, rifle in hand with Mike behind him, aiming at something in the distance.
Fay covered her ears as the gunshots continued to ring out. She walked to them and could see that both Mike and Clarence had ear protection on. She screamed their names and when that didn’t work she threw an empty soup can at them. She hit Mike square in the back.
Mike took the earpieces off. Clarence clicked the safety on and leaned the rifle up against his shoulder.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Fay asked.
“Mike’s teaching me how to shoot,” Clarence said.
“He’s pretty good,” Mike said.
“Well, it took me a couple tries, but I finally got one.”
Fay walked up to them and saw a row of soup cans set up thirty yards away on top of a luggage carrier.
“You really think this is a good idea? I thought we weren’t supposed to bring attention to ourselves,” Fay said.
“Most people run away from gunshots, not toward them,” Mike said.
Fay grabbed the earpiece off Clarence’s head.
“Where’d you get these?” Fay asked.
“Found them in the ground control locker rooms,” Clarence said.
“Can I try?”
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