Chapter 470.
<strong>Chapter 470. A Slow Day on a Farm. (3/6)</strong>
<span style="font-weight:400">“Hey, by the way, Dawn.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I know you said Rosa asked you to keep mepany, but now that you know where your mother is, rather than getting stuck here with me, didn’t you want to go to the city together with them to track her down?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Uhh… I’m still not ready.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“When will you be ready to face her then?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I… don’t know. I’m still scared. What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if she hates me? She’s apparently a surgeon and I bet she’s probably super busy and tired all the time. I doubt she’d even have the time or energy to see me. I don’t want to be a bother.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Haaaaah. Who cares? Does any of it really matter?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I care. It does matter.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Look, so what if you end up inconveniencing her? She’s your mother at the end of the day. Parents exist solely to be inconvenienced by their children. The moment she gave birth to you she was given the responsibility to wipe the green liquid shit stains off your ass and change your diapers. It’s not like you’re going to ask her to do that for you now, so she can at the very least bear the small inconvenience of meeting you.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“That’s vulgar.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“So what?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Hey, Ran?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What is it?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Uhm, I thought of something I want if I win the bet.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What is it?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I want a favor from yuh.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What’s the favor you want?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I’ll say it after I win.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Just tell me now.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“It’s a bit embarrassing.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Say it, or I won’t ept.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Fine… can yuh… uh…e with me to meet my mom… and… pretend to be my boyfriend?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Huh? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you want to introduce a fake boyfriend to your mother?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Because I’m afraid to meet her alone. But… if I have someone with me when I meet her providing moral support… I think... I can do it.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“If it’s just some moral support you need, wouldn’t Rosa be plenty?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I… want it to be yuh though… is it... an impossible request?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Well, it’s not like it’s impossible and something I can’t do.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Then will yuh agree?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Sure, but that’s only if I lose of course.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Then hurry up and take your shot.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Alright, if you say so.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I climbed a bit up the rock, stood up straight, and took aim from what I approximated was the correct adjusted height to fire the bullet straight, parallel to the ground, and still hit the target.
<span style="font-weight:400">It could honestly go either way. It was a coin flip. If the velocity I used in my calctions was too slow then I’d shoot way below the target. If it was too fast, it’d go way over the target.
<span style="font-weight:400">The bullet would also slow down over the distance it traverses so its speed wasn’t constant the entire way adding further uncertainty to the equation. I didn’t know what the slowdown for the bullet would look like so I had no way to factor it into my calctions.
<span style="font-weight:400">In the end, they were just a bunch of sloppy estimates.
<span style="font-weight:400">Oh well, since I’vee this far, might as well try it.
<span style="font-weight:400">I ced my finger on the trigger and slowly pulled it in. The hammer on the revolver cocked back as the chamber rotated a notch.
<span style="font-weight:400">When the trigger was pulled in all the way the hammer plunged forward.
<span style="font-weight:400">Bang!
<span style="font-weight:400">In sync with the loud bang, I felt a strong recoil pushing back against my hand pushing it slightly up shortly after the bullet had already left the chamber.
<span style="font-weight:400">Less than a secondter.
<span style="font-weight:400">Cling!
<span style="font-weight:400">My brows raised up in surprise when I heard the crisp ping of metal colliding with metal in the distance.
<span style="font-weight:400">“No way...” Dawn muttered to herself.
<span style="font-weight:400">I… seriously hit it? Those stupid calctions were correct?
<span style="font-weight:400">Somehow, I felt strangely excited, ted even. Putting the theoretical knowledge you learned in school into practice in the real world felt pretty satisfying.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yuh… really hit the target?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“It seems so.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Dawn raised her binocrs and confirmed, “Itnded pretty high, just barely in the circle a bit to the right… but it definitely hit the target… and it’s your win.”
<span style="font-weight:400">So the initial velocity of the bullet was higher than expected.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Haaaaah…” she let out a small sigh as she lowered her binocrs a bit disappointed that she’d lost.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Is it fine if I take a few more shots?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Sure, go ahead.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I unloaded the remaining five bullets in the chamber while gradually lowering the height I shot from a bit every time. Each sessive bullet approached closer to the bullseye.
<span style="font-weight:400">With those six shots, I’d gotten a pretty good feel for it. Dawn showed me how to reload the revolver and I tried shooting from ground level this time. I missed the first five shots from the ground, but the final shot hit the bottom edge of the target. I’d gradually increased the angle by aiming above the bullseye until I hit it. Once I found the sweet spot, it wasn’t very difficult to hit near the bullseye consistently.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yuh got the hang of it pretty quickly. Have yuh really never practiced shooting before?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Though I’ve never really practiced shooting a real gun, I used to y a lot of first-person shooters. Maybe that helped a little with my aim.” As if it really would. It was all the power of math and the scientific process of trial and error.
<span style="font-weight:400">“I see. Want to try the rifle now?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Sure.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Don’t get cocky and let it get to your head after your initial sess, yuh’re definitely not going to hit the target on your first try this time if yuh go for the furthest one.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I didn’t know the velocity of a typical rifle bullet after all.
<span style="font-weight:400">Dawn taught me how to properly hold and aim using her rifle while standing. When I took my first shot with the rifle, the recoil was significantly stronger than the revolver, but since the butt of the rifle hit my shoulder, it was manageable.
<span style="font-weight:400">I was able to hit one of the targets 100 meters away without much difficulty using the scope. 200 meters wasn’t too hard to get used to either. But beyond that range, I started missing. The further it went, the worse my uracy. When it came to the 500-meter targets, I couldn’t hit them. They’d always swerve away to the side with the unpredictable changing wind.
<span style="font-weight:400">Even after I fired twenty shots, I just couldn’t hit it.
<span style="font-weight:400">“It’s really hard with the wind.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, it is. Yuh’ve got to be patient and get a good feel for the wind to consistently hit targets at the 500-meter mark and beyond. When it’s a moving target like an animal at those ranges, the difficulty increases exponentially since yuh have to lead your shots and predict not only the wind but the animal’s movements as well. Speaking of animals…”
<span style="font-weight:400">Dawn’s eyes narrowed as her gaze locked onto a thicket of trees in the distance beyond the 500-meter targets.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Is there something there?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, I caught a glimpse of a feral hog. I need my rifle back.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“You’re going to kill it?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, those hogs are menaces. They carry around a lot of diseases that can be life-threatening to not only domestic pigs, but to humans as well. Some of the diseases they carry couldpletely shut down pork production in the country. They’re an animal marked as kill on sight. They reproduce extremely quickly so their poptions can easily explode if left alone. They oupete other animals for resources in the forest.”
<span style="font-weight:400">It’s funny, they sound a lot like humans in a sense.
<span style="font-weight:400">“I seriously hate them. They caused so much trouble for my dad when I was a kid.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Dawn set herself up prone on the rock and took aim. Her eyes were distant. The air around her was serious. It was the first time I saw her calm tranquil eyes filled with the intent to kill and take a life without hesitation.
<span style="font-weight:400">I used her binocrs to try and locate the feral hog in question but I didn’t see a thing. How’d she even see it without the binocrs just now? I suppose it was experience.
<span style="font-weight:400">“You’re really going to shoot it from here instead of getting closer?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“If we try to get closer, it will likely notice us approaching and escape deeper into that thicket of trees. Feral hogs are by no means stupid. In fact, they’re among the most intelligent of all animals. Yuh should never underestimate a feral hog or the damage it can do. I bet people from the city wouldugh at me and think I’m overexaggerating.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“You’re right, there probably are a lot of people in the city who wouldugh it off as nothing, but I won’t. I believe you.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yuh… believe me?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah. So do what you’ve got to do.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Right.”