"Where did you learn to shoot like that?”
"I don't know. Just naturally gifted, I guess.”
"That's some gift.”
By that time, I had finished reloading the magazine. I jammed it into the pistol, pulled back the slide, and chambered another round.
I steadied my stance, took aim, and pulled the trigger again. This time, I aimed at the zombie’s heart. I didn't stop pulling the trigger until the magazine was empty again.
Another nice grouping, all within the space of a quarter at 25 yards.
Not bad.
"You have something against that target?"
I shrugged. "He reminds me of the last guy that hit on me at the range.”
Cooper winced. "That pistol is not the only thing that's lethal.”
I shot him a deadly look.
Cooper raised his hands innocently. “I'm not hitting on you, by the way.”
"Oh, really?” I said in disbelief.
"You're totally not my type.”
"What's your type?"
"I prefer women that are less accurate at the range. Just in case things go south."
I responded with a modest chuckle.
"So youarecapable of laughter?”
My eyes narrowed at him. "Are you sure you want to antagonize a woman with a gun?”
"Good point," he said. "I'll let you get back to it.”
Cooper disappeared back behind the stall, took aim, and blasted off a few shots at his target. I had to hand it to him—he wasn't bad. He grouped them all well within the kill zone.
Dead is dead—by an inch or a millimeter.
I burned through another several magazines. The zombie was good and dead by the time I was finished.
I reeled the target back in, folded it up, and kept it for good measure. Something to hang on the bulkhead and remind me of what I was capable of and maybe where I had come from.
I holstered my weapon, gathered my things, then left the stall.
"See you around,” Cooper shouted over the noise.
"Not if I see you first,” I said with a grin.
I left the shooting lanes, said goodbye to the clerk on the way out, and hopped on my bike. I fired up the engine and headed back to the marina.
Halfway home, an ice pick stabbed my brain. The sudden headache made a brain freeze from drinking a slushie too fast seem like child’s play.
My vision blurred.