Page 9 of What is Lost

“Thanks for the offer,” he said to Emery. “I just have to slow down.”

“What you need is to stop trying to beat her,” Emery said.

“Heh.” Clearly in a much better mood, Roni favored him with a cocky grin. “Too late.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Though he liked that she was smiling. “Less talk,” he said, pulling his earmuffs on again. “More shooting.”

After that, he allowed himself to pull dead even with but not outshoot Roni. “Good shooting,” Emery said, comparing targets, though, again, he slipped John that sidelong glance. “Noticed you took some care there.”

What had the older man seen? That he tried very hardnotto shoot through his own holes? “Ah,” he said. “You know, just lucky.”

“Uh-huh,” Emery said after a short silence that stretched for one beat too many. “Lucky.” Then: “Y’all ever done an Annie Oakley?”

“I’m sorry?” Roni asked. “A who?”

“Not awho,” said Emery. “Awhat.An Annie Oakley is where you shoot the flame from a candle without hitting the candle.”

“Seriously?” He gave what he thought was a very convincing, very bewildered laugh for a guy whoknew exactly what an Annie Oakley was. “That’s impossible.”

“Not for Annie Oakley. She could do it with a lever-action rifle at thirty-five yards. I had an old buddy could do it with a High Standard competition pistol.”

“Wow,” he said, injecting just as much disbelief into his tone as he thought prudent. “So, how far with a modern weapon, like an M4?” Like he didn’t already know the answer.

“A good sniper at night and without a spotter?” Emery sucked his teeth, considering. “Probably two hundred yards, two-fifty. Either of you up for a try?”

“I’m game,” Roni said.

“Sure,” he said, though he thought he was just a half-beat too slow. “Can’t hurt to try.”

“The wayit works is you each get three shots.” Pushing up from the dirt where he’d set up a Remington M2010 on a bipod, Emery dusted himself off. “Cutting the candle in two is no good. You got to snuff the wick, and that’s it.”

“How many yards again?” Her head swiveled toward a solitary flicker downrange, so far away as to be only bright and no color at all. “That looks awfully far.”

“Three fifty,” Emery said. “Right up against the berm.”

She goggled. “Seriously?” At the same moment John protested, “I thought you said two-fifty with a spotter.”

“I figured you two might be up for a challenge.”

“Canyouhit that?” she asked.

“Me?” Emery made a raspberry sound. “Not in a million years.”

Annoyed, she planted her fists on her hips. “Then how fair is that?”

“Don’t sweat it. All it means is we’ll be in good company when we miss.” John made a half-bow. “Ladies first.”

“Uh-huh.” She huffed out her cheeks. “I know what you’re doing: taking notes.”

“You want me to go first?”

“No, no.” She was annoyed, though couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. “I’ll do it.”

“Then, go,” Emery said. “More you think about it, worse it will get. Take your shots before that thing burns down.”

She did everythingalmostright. She lay on her stomach. She spread her legs. But she couldn’t get comfortable with the gun.What’s wrong with you?She fidgeted, snugging and then adjusting the butt of the Remington into her right shoulder as the men watched.

She knew what bothered her. The tiniest fingerof disquiet poked the nape of her neck. John was...there wasn’t something quite right about him.Like he’s holding himself back.But why would he do that?

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