Eden's Root (8 page)

When she had jogged for close to an hour outside of town she felt she was far enough from civilization to give firing the weapon a try. She’d found a long clearing with a large, soft, dead tree at the end of it. That would work for target practice, she thought. There was a light layer of snow on the ground and the air was extremely cold.

She removed her gloves and retrieved the gun from her pack. It was heavy, and Jesus was it cold! The feeling of it in her hand made her shiver. Next, she pulled out her tablet and flipped to the article on the gun. At home Fi had worked with all the moving parts, learning her way around the weapon. Now, for the first time, she was going to load it.

Fi cleared the snow and sat down beside her pack, cross-legged. She balanced the tablet on her lap and murmured to herself as she went through the steps to load the ammunition. Her hands shook with cold and anticipation as she carefully loaded a single round into the chamber. She got up and walked to a spot opposite the dead tree and slowly removed the safety. Holding her arms at shoulder height as she had seen in the videos, she took a deep breath, cemented her aim, and fired. A deafening explosion of sound erupted and the gun slammed into the meaty pad at the base of her thumb.

“Ow!” Fi yelled as she dropped the gun. Wow, that hurt, she thought as she shook out her firing hand. And it had been so loud. Her ears were practically ringing and she was thankful that she had come so far from town. She examined her hand, convinced that she must have done something wrong. Or maybe it was just a matter of toughening up, she thought. Fi retrieved the gun and loaded it again. She went through the same ritual of getting ready to fire and took a deep breath. She fired again and the gun leapt into the meat of her hand in the exact same spot.

“Ow-ha-how!” She squealed in pain. “Ooooooooof!” She breathed through her teeth as she set the gun down again. This time it hurt twice as much because she was already sore. It reminded her of the way it had felt when she’d fallen once on rocks. A large round rock had sunk into her palm as she’d caught herself. She squeezed her sore hand, shaking it out and peering at her palm. A small bruise was starting in the crook of her thumb. There as no way she was just doing something wrong. It had to be something else. She sat down with her tablet again to do some research, pulling her gloves back onto her icy hands. She searched and flipped through articles until she found one on the proper “fit” for a handgun. Even though she had never thought about it before, it made sense that a gun would need to fit your hand.

After more study, she decided that what she really needed was a smaller .22. It was just as deadly and the ammo would be very available. She could even get the hollow point type. The article said this type, ‘doesn’t blow a hole through somebody, it just ping-pongs around inside them, tearing them up’. Yikes, she thought, nothing like a reminder that she wasn’t planning to fire at a tree trunk forever.

Suddenly she remembered the tree trunk. With care, Fi set down her tablet and rose, her feet crunching on the snow and the small shrubs underfoot as she approached. When she drew near, her eyes searched the dark folds. Two feet into her search she stopped and threw her arms in the air. She found it! Surrounded by a bright patch of shredded wood, she could see the small hole.

Wow, she thought. I actually hit it. She estimated that she’d been about fifteen feet away. Not bad. It looked like she had only scored one hit, but her hand had been pretty sore when she’d fired the second one. She definitely needed a new gun and now she knew what she had to do. Fi gathered her stuff together and headed back out of the woods. She was scheduled to practice her bow hunting again that afternoon with Margie and Ross. It was time to sneak home and ice her hand while she waited for Margie.

Later that afternoon, Fi decided that she was pleased with the progress of the bruise on her hand. It was sore, but she could still practice. She would just make something up if they asked about it, she thought. It was frigid and she paced while she waited on the next street over for Margie’s car. They’d arranged for Margie to pick her up and Fi figured she might as well take the ride. She was getting more comfortable with the lie she was living every day. Even if she couldn’t really practice, it didn’t matter, she needed to get to Margie and Ross’s store so she could get herself a new gun. It was time to add stealing to her bag of tricks.

They kept the guns in locked cases, but she knew that they trusted her enough to leave her unattended. They had already done it yesterday once they warmed to her story. Ross had even left a couple times with the cabinet keys still tucked under the register. It was easy, Fi thought. It mostly took the commitment to just go ahead and do it. When Ross disappeared into the back while Margie was in the restroom, Fi pounced.

She slid behind the counter and grabbed the keys, locating the small one that unlocked the case on the wall behind the register. Carefully, she removed the small .22 Smith and Wesson she’d selected and then shifted the others to cover the gap. The keys jingled in her shaking hands as she fumbled with them, working to unlock the gun. Once it clicked, she breathed a sign of relief. This was more like it, she thought as she held the lighter, smaller weapon. She checked the safety and quickly slid the gun into her pack. Fi slipped out from behind the counter just as Ross emerged from the back, still on the phone.

“You ready for practice honey?” Margie cooed as she stepped out of the restroom. Fi nodded, smiling shyly. She kept her eyes down, the demure little girl once again. Later that same day Fi also grabbed ammunition for both her guns. She decided to take an unnoticeable amount the next two times she came back. It would add up, she thought. All of her stolen booty was now tucked safely into Kiara’s bookshelf compartment for the night.

Despite the effectiveness of the hiding spot, Fi was very careful to make sure the weapons were unloaded. She kept the Glock because she thought that it was better to have two guns than one. Next time she would also steal a hip holster for her gun so she could wear her gun and her hunting knife at the same time. Soon, she would wear them on her hikes so that she could get used to the feeling. In another week, she would also take her bow and get used to wearing the sling. Maybe even go on some personal hunting trips, she thought.

She was looking forward to another overnight visit with her father. He would be impressed with her work: successful stealing, testing and selecting a better gun, getting more ammo. Even though she still had some of the money he’d given her, she’d learned more from the experience of stealing and she couldn’t buy ammo from anyone without raising suspicion anyway.

Lucy’s car pulled up and Fi ran out the door. She knew that Lucy was just driving her now to be kind, not because she had any other errand. Sometimes Lucy would talk with her, but usually she was kind enough to just let Fi sit in silence. That was a tough one for Aunt Lucy, Fi thought with a smile. The woman could talk more and faster than anyone she’d ever met, always with flawless vocabulary, of course. They jokingly called her the grammar Nazi. Fi’s obsessive love of reading had molded her into a grammarian anyway, but Lucy sealed the deal with her constant corrections.

“Say Hi to your Mama for me ok?” Fi nodded and ran inside. She knew that Lucy had already seen Maggie today, but everyone was so worried about her, about them. Her kindness made Fi sadder.

Her father was deteriorating at this point and no one questioned her presence. Sometimes she spent more time there than the nurses on shift. With her fourteenth birthday just two weeks away, she worried that she wouldn’t have time to get all the information from him that she needed. He seemed to sleep more and more these days as he slowly drifted away from her.

----------- Fi -----------

When visiting hours ended that night, Mike turned to Fi.

“So, what updates do you have for me?”

His voice was tired and he often listened with his eyes closed, but she knew that he wanted to share the journey with her. Whenever they talked, he seemed animated and alive, despite his worsening condition. Mike was impressed when she’d told him about ‘bullshitting’ Margie and Ross to wrangle training in the use of the bow.

“Tell me all about it,” he asked and patted the bed next to his legs. Fi hopped up onto his bed and snuggled next to him, being careful of his various IVs and cords. She lay in the crook of his arm and told him about trying out the gun and realizing she’d needed a different one. She described her heist, including the ammunition.

“It was actually really easy Papa,” she said with enthusiasm. “I mean these people believe whatever I say and they just leave me alone with all their stuff.” She also told him about her successful gunshot. “I was shocked,” she admitted. “I didn’t expect to even feel like I could fire it at all, let alone actually hit something. But I just closed off my fear and pretended I was in a movie and fired. I had read how you had to squeeze evenly and then sort of let the gun fire when it does.” She went on, lost in her thoughts. “That wasn’t so different from the bow release actually. So maybe I shouldn’t have been shocked…that I turned out to be good at it.” Her father laughed into her hair, the sudden exhale ruffling it.

“Aaaaah Fi,” he said. “Thank goodness you’re so good at everything you try,” he laughed.

“That’s not true,” she objected. “What about every time that you tried to help me with my Algebra homework and I ended up a teary, snotty, wreck?”

He smiled and rubbed her shoulder. “That’s true,” he agreed. “If algebraic equations are required knowledge for your future survival…” he said ominously, with a wicked smile.

She poked him, “Hey,” she joked. “As an adult and future survivor, I take offense!” He reached to poke her back, knowing it would tickle her. “No,” she said, trying to block his hand. They play wrestled for a second and then Mike suddenly was seized by a paroxysm of coughing. As she’d done a hundred times already, Fi slid out of his bed and grabbed his water and brought it to him. His slight frame was doubled over with wracking coughs and Fi’s heart pounded. Despite her fear, she stepped closer and rubbed his back.

“It’s ok Papa, breathe slowly. It’s going to be ok.” He started drawing breath more slowly and the coughing stopped. He sat up and lay back on his pillow, reaching a thin hand for the cup of water beside him.

“I’m sorry Fi,” he apologized. “I didn’t want to frighten you.”

“Shhhhhhh,” she responded. “Don’t worry. Why don’t we take a break and then get started talking about next steps for me?” Fi left briefly to get a bottle of water from the vending machine and use the bathroom. When she returned, her father looked calm.

He smiled as she entered. “So let’s get to the next step, since your debut into the world of hunting is going so well,” he said. “It’s time to focus on gathering.”

“More sources of Truefood,” she grinned. Curled up on her cot next to her father’s bed, Fi paged through the pile of Field Guides in her backpack. “So I have to use these paper ones because my tablet may no longer be available?” Mike nodded in confirmation.

“That’s why I want you to have my paper journal too. I know your tablet is easier, but if electricity is interrupted then your mobile devices may no longer work. Even the internet may no longer be available.”

Fi sucked in thinking about that. She couldn’t imagine it. The Internet had been there her whole life, a never-ending source of information and answers. Her father had told her about his childhood, how when he was young, so was the Internet. Even he didn’t really know how to function without it.

Her father reached for the book about edible mushrooms and Fi handed it to him. That one was already a bit worn because Mike, as an official ‘foodie’ had decided one summer to tromp through the woods looking for mushrooms. Some that he found were good and some, not so much, she remembered, chuckling. Fi smiled at the memory.

“I had no idea so many weird things were out there that you could eat,” Fi said to her father, flipping to the page on mosses. “Like this,” she said, turning the book to face him briefly, tapping the picture and then turning it back again, “Reindeer Moss,” she read, shaking her head. “It’s what reindeer eat, but people can eat it too, apparently.”

“I assume that practicing gathering will be pretty easy for you,” her father said. “Like fishing.”

“I assume so as well,” Fi agreed. “I’m going to make sure I actually go out and practice it though, because I’ve never really done it. It’s never a bad idea to practice.”

As she thought about it, Fi realized that she was much more excited about going out to practice using her new gun than she was to gather moss. The feeling shocked her, but she shook her head. It’s winter, she thought. Who would be excited about gathering in the winter? It’s a tough time to gather anything. Secretly though, deep inside where she couldn’t admit it even to herself, she knew she had liked the feeling of firing that gun.

----------- Fi -----------

In mid-January, just one week before Fi’s birthday, Mike Kelly slipped into a coma. It was a natural progression. His windows of consciousness had grown less frequent with each passing day. Despite Fi’s foreknowledge that this was coming, it still weighed on her as surely as his looming death.

She was on her own now. There was no one to share stories, to ask questions, to share the burden. Thank goodness he had told her everything that he had to offer before he had succumbed. Having watched Luke’s progression, Fi knew that this coma was one from which her father would not return. Every moment she spent by his bedside, listening to his breath fight through the beeping of the machines, her resolve grew stronger.

Today she would begin the most demanding part of her preparation, fighting. As she bounced along on the city bus, she felt trepidation. Salty roads crunched under the bus tires as it squeaked to a stop at her location. The plaza was up ahead on the right and she shifted her pack, walking toward it quickly. As she approached, she could make out the blue and red sign that read, ‘Empire Taekwando’. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the door.