Beefy's Story: Part 6
#9 of Beefy the Bull's Story
Beefy's Story: Part 6
By: Beefy the Bull
The Range- the scale of life and death. Or: Redemption?
Bull, Minotaur, Bovine, M/M, Insinuated Suicide, Sadness, Personal Redemption,
Back on the main floor there was an old Suburban parked by the dock, Magnum checked the contents of the back seat and then we got in to it, and hit the road. Radomir opened a large corrugated sliding door, and we drove in to the afternoon air.
Looking out the window as we drove down a desert road my mind wandered; it was late afternoon and the scrub-brush cast long shadows across the ground. A lot was happening to me right now, and I would just have to try and take things one at a time. I wouldn't plan too far ahead, and when I did I sure as hell would leave a lot of room for things to change.
In hindsight the range was a proving ground for me, a scale on which I had to weigh in myself and my skills. I had notions when I went there- I thought things would be like one way or another. Things would happen in a certain way; I would prove myself or disgrace myself.
But the problem with hindsight and preconceived notions is that they don't usually help with the actual situation, the actual experience. Often times they cloud the situation, or make it worse. Sometimes they can help by learning or being prepared, but those are usually different things all together.
The Suburban finally rolled in to the gravel parking lot, and other than a sign proclaiming there to be a gun range, I didn't see a whole lot. Some scrub-covered berms surrounded the parking area, and a few soft pops rang out and echoed in the distance. Once the dust settled Mag killed the engine, and we hopped out. Magnum pulled a rifle case and ammunition box from the back seat. The place was deserted and we were the only ones around.
"Take this and follow me!" he said with a smile, and indicated an army-surplus ammo box. I grabbed it and we walked towards a cut in one of the berms, on the other side of it was one of the gun ranges, it was a long rectangular area of berms about fifteen feet tall enclosing an area with a shelter at one end and a backstop for bullets at the other.
The shelter was just a long wooden sun cover with a few simple tables and benches running the length, and a slab of concrete provided a good flat footing (hoofing?) for it all.
Magnum set the cases down on the table and opened some of the gun cases, and removed some of the weapons. He picked up a pistol, and holding it carefully he then turned to me-
"All right, there are a few things to go over before we start- Firstly: weapon safety." Magnum said seriously, and his expression and manner were quite grave.
"These are dangerous and deadly weapons, and that should be in mind anytime you touch one." he patted a rifle with one hand.
"There are four main rules to firearm safety: One- Always treat the firearm like it is loaded. If you think it's unloaded, check it any way, and still treat it like it is." he cleared the gun in his hand and verified it was safe.
"Two- always keep your finger off the trigger and out of the trigger guard. Being stupid with where you put your finger could kill someone." He turned the gun so I could see he was gripping it with his finger on the slide and away from the trigger. I nodded my head in agreement- that made a lot of sense.
"Three- always keep the firearm pointed in a safe direction. That way if you fuck up on rule two or three no one gets killed." he was already keeping the gun pointed to the ground.
"Four- Be sure of your target and what is beyond it- That's to say you need to make sure you don't kill someone you don't want to, like trough a wall or standing behind your target." I could see that being a problem with the big guns Magnum liked.
"It's fairly easy, you got it? Any questions?" he asked just to be thorough.
"I got it." I tried to state confidently.
"Now these weapons have been modified for our use, to make them more ergonomic and comfortable to operate. Grip is important..."
Shortly later...
I admit just holding a loaded gun in my hand was a challenge, it was kind of scary to even pick up, not because I was scared of the gun itself, but more because I was scared of what it meant to me. I couldn't tell you how many times I wished in my life that I had a gun, that I could hold it to my chest and pull the trigger.
And now that very tool lay before me on the table, with a loaded magazine next to it, and I knew how to use it. An old and dark thought flashed through my mind, and I shuddered. I could pick it up, slam the clip home, rack the slide, put the gun to my head, and with one soft pull, it would be to the void with me. I spent the last ten years of my life wanting that, and now it was right before me.
"Alright I'm ready. Range is hot! Go ahead and pick up your gun." Magnum's voice sounded almost distant.
I grasped the gun, and held it in my hand. I looked at the flat-black tool of destruction. The very weapon I imagined for all those years.
"Load-up and fire when you're ready."
I picked up the magazine, and slammed it home, grasped the slide and pulled it back like I had been shown. I looked at it in my hand again- I was holding a deadly, high caliber, loaded gun. I had prayed and dreamed of this moment for so many years. So long had the quick end of my pain and the void eluded me.
I raised the gun. My heart pounded, and I tried to calm my breath.
My soul welled with emotions, this was the moment, the place-this gun range, was the scale on which I made a decision.
My hands were shaking, and I slowly started to pull the trigger lightly.
I remember the first time I tried to end my life- I remember the pain of that day.
'BANG-'
I hit the target, but low. A lousy shot.
I looked coldly down the sights- my life had made me cold, it killed me inside, it tore my heart and soul out. In this moment I was ice cold, my anger and sorrow filled me as I looked down the sights. I grimaced and saw the sights line up with the target and I pulled the trigger, I pulled it fast and steady, the gun recoiled in my hands until the slide locked back. I with one mind driven by anger I performed a reload and quickly reacquired the target. I let the rounds fly- anger.
'BANG- BANG- BANG-'
I felt the sharp edged anger. This was for all the times uncle beat me. For all the times he told me I was a disappointment. For all the times he said he wished I would leave or die.
I paused and caught my breath. I hadn't realized but I had been holding it. Sadness overwhelmed me- I reacquired the target.
'BANG-BANG- BANG-'
I felt loathing and sorrow. For what happened to Mama. For all the times I was so alone. For all the pain in my life that had made me want to end it all.
I stood holding the gun out in front of me, my hands were shaking, and really looked at the target for the first time. It was strewn with hits, but all over. My aim was crap. I felt disappointed in myself. I felt like a failure, just like all the times before in my life.
I lowered the gun and collected myself. I couldn't be carless, this was a gun, and it could end someone's life if I wasn't careful. I calmed myself more and tried to let go of the emotions some. I raised the gun quickly with one arm and fired.
'BANG-'
The target twenty five yard away has a round hole in it near the center. I took up a solid stance and grasped the gun with both hands.
'BANG- BANG-BANG-'
The gun kicks in my hands, its recoil is strong, but I can control it. I breathe deeply and relax my stance some. Three more holes in the target, my aim is bad, but I will get good. I drop the almost empty magazine and slam home a new one.
'BANG-'
I will not lose. I don't care how bad it gets. I lived to be this old, I lived through all this shit, and I will win.
As I look down the sights and line up the target, I grimace. I feel all the emotions drain from me, and my mind is devoid of anything but the target. I became ice cold again, but now I 'm on task, and as the target is covered by the front sight, I pull the trigger.
'BANG-'
Better.
My life hardened me. It made me able to withstand things that would tear most people apart. In this moment I am made of stone.
'BANG- BANG- BANG-'
Closer. I think the trick is not to try and control it- but to let the recoil happen.
'BANG-'
I'm not perfect, I'm far from it. I'm broken inside, but sometimes that's what it takes.
'BANG- BANG- BANG-'
Dead on, three hits center mass.
I will have to balance this broken self and heartful soul somehow. I lower the weapon and hold it at a low ready as I glare at my target.
"You're doing really damn well." Magnum said as he walked up next to me.
I safety and holster the gun. Will I always be able to trust myself with a weapon? I know how slippery the slope of despair is to me.
"You need some more range time, but you have this down really well. Sure you haven't fired a gun before?"
I nodded.
"Your reload was slick. I think you will do fine with a little training." Magnum said confidently.
"I hope so." I said to him as much as myself.
After that we packed up prepared to leave, and headed back to the Suburban. We drove away from the dusty range and towards the setting sun, it was just starting to touch the horizon, and the desert sky glowed red.
I realized I had something in my hand- I was rolling it around with my fingers- and looking down as I opened my hand, I found it was a single bullet. I didn't remember picking it up. I knew what a single bullet meant to me- I knew all too well what task a single bullet was for.
I slipped it in to my pocket, would I ever be able to close that door? It would take a lot of determination-that was for sure.
I had felt determination today- I just need to keep it somehow.
Fin.
(I wish it had only taken me only twenty rounds to get there, but it was a lot more in reality, LOL.)