Chapter Ten: We Unleashed a Lion
May 5, 2003
Silver City, NM
The property was exactly what he was looking for. Sixteen and a half acres of land with a small old cabin on the property near a creek running through one corner. It was just outside Pinos Altos, and about a half-hour drive north of Silver City. It was nestled in the foothills and up against the national parkland.
Marc had received the address directly from the seller’s representative who said he could just go up anytime to check out the property, so Marc had driven out to see how it looked for himself.
There were a few active development projects nearby, so Shiela was happy, saying that the property would surely increase in value over time. Marc wasn’t so sure though. He had seen developers come into Grant country plenty of times, only to give up after a few years, leaving a trail of half-build projects and abandoned construction sites. That suited Marc fine, however. He wanted a quiet place, away from the city so he could avoid the noise and distractions.
The cabin as it was now was uninhabitable. It would likely take him most of the summer to get it into a livable condition. The roof needed to be replaced completely, and it might be a good idea to lay down a new foundation as well. Happily, there should be more than enough room to build a small greenhouse and put a forge near the creek.
There would be no electricity or city water available this far out of town, but that wouldn’t be too much of a problem for Marc. Sure he no longer had access to the convenience that magic provided, but he had long learned how to live without the crutch of Mana-created water and the other comforts. He could get by with generators for when electricity was needed, and would need to set up a water tank in the hills above the cabin to collect and service his water needs.
Once he was done, he planned to donate his old home to someone who needed a starter place. There were always young families in need of a cheap home, and Marc thought this would be the best way to help balance the guilt he felt with the large windfall left to him by his absentee father.
After checking out the property, Marc drove back into town to meet with Shiela and let her know the lot was acceptable.
Not surprisingly, she was also a licensed real estate agent, so she could take care of the sale for him. Marc was again immensely grateful that she was around. She was his guardian angel, mothering him and taking care of all the things he had no idea how to handle.
He learned that she was actually one of the more successful lawyers in the city, thanks in no small part to the large number of truckers who trusted their affairs to her small boutique firm. She seemed to credit Marc’s father with helping her grow that business, so she treated him more like family than a client.
He had discussed his future plans with her, and although she found them somewhat strange, was willing to help him manage the finer details. She was in full support of his going back to school. As for his idea to build a forge and start blacksmithing, she was a bit more skeptical.
“Can you even make any money doing things like that anymore?” She asked incredulously.
“Well, maybe not a lot, but the teacher I found, Mr. Maeda, he sells artwork at the farmers markets and festivals and said that some of the bigger commissions he makes can sell for thousands of dollars. I can also try to get some work as a farrier for the local stables and do repair work. It’s not big money, but it’s honest work, and should be enough to get by on.” He said hopefully.
She nibbled on one of the cookies that he had brought from a nearby bakery and eyed him through her glasses. Then she smiled and let out a sigh.
“Fine, fine. As long as you are happy with it.”
They discussed the property a bit more and agreed it was a good choice. It fits all of Marc’s needs and should keep or grow its value over time. Shiela would handle the negotiations, and she expected a good final price. If things went well they should be able to close as early as the end of May. That would give Marc plenty of time to clean up the property and renovate the cabin before he went back to school.
After leaving Shiela’s office, Marc moved on to the next stop on his plan. Something he hadn’t mentioned to his lawyer yet, knowing it would raise more than a small level of concern if he brought it up.
There was no shortage of places to buy outdoor sporting equipment in town. You could even get hunting rifles and equipment at the local Walmart. Marc went to a smaller outdoor shop that his father had taken him to get camping gear when he was a kid and wandered the aisles a bit first, looking for familiar things.
It wasn’t long before an older gentleman came up to him, asking if he needed any help finding something.
“I was thinking of doing some hunting…” was all he managed to get out when a big smile appeared on the salesman’s face.
“Sure thing! We got a great stock of rifles, anything you might need. You ever been hunting before?”
“No, not really. Shot a .22 a few times when I was a kid.” He said shyly.
“No problem. You thinking about deer? Or ducks? Seasons won’t start till late fall, but if you are just starting out, might be good to practice up first.” The salesman beamed.
“What about coyotes and big cats?” He asked.
“Ha, learn how to walk before you try flying why don’t you? Anyway, what kind of gun you thinking of?” Marc could see he was starting to lose the salesman who was starting to wonder how serious he was.
“How about bows? Do you sell those?”
“Yeah, sure, we got a good stock. You think you can use one? It ain’t as easy as it looks you know.”
“Show me.” He said, putting an implied challenge into his voice, hoping that the salesman hadn’t already written him off as a prank.
“Alright… C’mon. Follow me.” He led Marc over to the far corner of the store in the back.
The store boasted an impressive array of hunting equipment, but most of it was unfamiliar to Marc. He was used to bows, spears, swords, and armor. The weapons on display looked more like toys and fancy devices with pulleys and indecipherable knobs.
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“We got your aluminum bows and some carbon fiber ones. The carbon ones are more pricy though. What’s your budget?” The salesman took Marc’s dismay at the selection as a giveaway that he wasn’t a serious buyer. He seemed to want to get through this part so he could go back quickly to whatever he had been doing before.
“I don’t know. I don’t need something this fancy though. Just a normal bow should be fine.” He said.
“A normal… listen, kid. If you are here just to waste my time…”
“I’m here to buy. Don’t worry. I just want to see something more… traditional.” Marc said, pulling out his brand-new credit card. The first one he had ever owned.
“Look, if you are new to hunting, you’re gonna want a compound bow. “ The salesman said, pointing at the fancy-looking contraptions.
“They have an easier pull and are lighter and smaller so they are easier to carry around.”
“Okay. Let’s try one. Show me your best-selling model.” Marc gave in. Soon the salesman was showing Marc how to hold and adjust one of the strange bows with pulley wheels and weight adjustments. Marc found the thing to be rather ridiculous, although he had to concede that the pull was far easier than any bow he had ever used before.
As he pulled on the bow, the salesman was getting bored, so Marc decided to raise the ante.
“Okay, I’m not sold on this yet. But…” He handed over the credit card. “… I promise I’m going to buy something today. I just need to find something that suits me, you know?”
Taking Marc’s card in his hands, the smile returned to the salesman’s face.
“Absolutely. Let’s try a few out in the test range so you can get a feel for them.”
They walked out a door in the back to find a long room with targets set up at the far end. There were a dozen or so bows along the wall and the salesman grabbed one of the compound bows and helped Marc adjust the weights.
Marc still felt rather silly with this children’s toy of a weapon, but lined up a shot and let the arrow fly at the target.
He was surprised when his shot went high and wide, by a lot. He just wasn’t used to how this bow functioned. He ignored the smirk on the salesman’s face and tried a couple more arrows.
By the third shot, he had roughly figured out the dynamics involved and finally hit the target. On the fourth arrow, he hit the bullseye.
The noticeably surprised salesman congratulated him.
“Wow! That I was not expecting. You are some prodigy or something right? You sure you never seen bows like this before?”
“Nope, But I have used a few traditional bows before. You sure you don’t have something like that?” He asked.
“Well, We do have some Olympic bows, and a couple recurve bows. Wait a second.” The man left the room. He returned in a minute with a couple more bows.
“This one here’s an Olympic training bow,” He said holding up a more traditional bow, but with the same kind of ridiculous attachment above the grip. It had the reversed limbs at each end, in a similar style to the commonly used hunters bows Marc was used to.
“It’s carbon fiber over an aluminum frame. As light and as accurate as they get.” The man said with pride.
Marc picked up the strange but more familiar-looking bow, and after checking the string and the weight quickly put an arrow right into the dead center of the target.
With a surprised look, the man offered up the next bow.
“This one’s an older model. Another recurve bow. It’s not as accurate as the Olympic ones, but it’s got a stronger pull, it’s a 45-pounder. This one’s fiberglass over wood.”
Marc looked at the bow and was immediately happy with what he saw. This was what he was hoping for. A simple, traditional bow. A simple grip, but with the same “W” shaped curve that he was accustomed to.
He smiled as he felt the flexibility of the material. It was glossy, downright shiny, but was strong and flexible. As promised, the pull was much tighter. It was near the limit that Marc could do in his current shape. While he could no longer augment his strength with magic, however, this body had the capability to get stronger, and that was something Marc happily looked forward to.
Drawing back on the bow felt very familiar and he let it fly, again nailing the bullseye on his first show.
The salesman whistled. “That’s pretty good. Pretty good indeed.”
“What’s wrong?” Marc asked, noticing the sudden drop in energy from the salesman again.
“Well, That’s about the cheapest bow we got in the shop.” He admitted.
“Really?” Marc smiled. Then he threw the salesman a bone.
“You have anything in this style, but a bit stronger?”
The salesman was surprised, then he caught on.
“Well, We do have a new recurve bow with swappable carbon limbs. They go up to 60 pounds, but I gotta warn you, Each set costs about ten times what that bow costs.” Pointing at the bow in Marc’s hand.
Marc frowned.
“Wow, that’s a lot.”
The salesman nodded and sighed wistfully.
“Yeah, we haven’t sold a single one yet.”
“I’ll bet. Anyway, should we take a look?” Marc said, smiling.
After a moment of confusion, a big smile appeared on the man’s face and he rushed out the door and back into the shop.
By the end of the day, Marc had purchased the carbon fiber bow as well as the cheap fiberglass bow, and two sets of arms at 50 and 60 pounds. It was more than he could handle in his current shape, but it gave him some room to grow and a tangible goal to aim for.
After all the extra arrows, tools, and accessories, the bill was eye-popping. It was more money than Marc had ever spent in one place in his entire life. More than a year’s tuition at the University. Still, Marc felt good about connecting yet another piece of his life in the other world to this one.
The salesman was ecstatic and could not praise Marc’s talent with the bow enough to everyone else in the shop. He also promised to meet Marc at the county shooting range the next day to show him a variety of hunting rifles.
It was a long and very expensive day, but Marc was finally starting to feel good about the future. The strain of the many mistakes he had made during his time in the other world, coupled with the burden of responsibility this power had put onto his shoulders had aged him in ways that his immortal body could not register.
Now that he was mortal again he felt that having a normal life might not be so bad.
He sat in the doorway to his house, listening to the noises of his neighbors while drinking a warm soda. This wasn’t a bad place after all.
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He met Charles, or “Chuck” at the entrance to the county shooting range. he was surprised to learn that he needed no license to purchase and use anything except for a concealed weapon. The only thing that anyone seemed to care about was hunting game animals out of season. Carrying around an arsenal of weapons loaded with ammunition was no big deal.
Marc recalled how difficult it had been to be recognized as a hunter. How many evaluations he had to pass and how heavily regulated weapons were, despite how important they were to the very survival of a person outside the walls of a fortress city.
Considering the power contained in the weapons available to anyone, it gave him pause to think of what dangers might be on the streets every day, that had always been there.
He took to the rifles very quickly. Compared to bows, rifles were a cheat that felt decidedly unsatisfying. Still, if he did run into strong predators, he would be a fool to forsake any advantage, especially without healing or offensive magic abilities.
After a few hours of shooting different weapons, Marc settled on a Remington 700 BDL Varmint, chambered for .223 ammunition. It was a single-fire, bolt-action rifle with incredible accuracy, stopping power, and ease of maintenance. Marc had no interest in sport hunting, but he had to admit there were times in his other life that a rifle like this would have come in very handy indeed.
As they checked out of the range, they noticed a group of hunters had gathered near the entrance. Marc and Chuck looked at each other, then wandered over to the gathering to see what was going on.
“It’s real! I ain’t messing around. I shot it just like you see here. Didn’t do anything to it at all! I swear to God!”
“Bullshit! Ain’t no way that’s real. What are you trying to pull?”
“I don’t know. It looks pretty real. I mean, I ain’t never seen anything like it, but it looks real enough.”
“Billy ain’t no liar. If he said he shot it like this, then I believe him.”
Marc peeked in between the dozen arguing men to see a small animal carcass on the hood of the pickup they were standing around.
“But just look at it. That can’t be real. Maybe some kids made it up for a joke and Billy just shot it thinking it was real.”
“No way. It was running around. Faster than any rabbit I ever saw. I got perfect eyesight. No way it was a trick.”
Marc pushed closer, now more curious about what they were looking at. He finally got close enough to see the carcass clearly.
It was a large brown rabbit. It had been shot through the chest, and the wound was small, but clearly enough to kill the animal.
Then he saw them. His eyes shot open in surprise at the two large bull horns protruding from the skull of the rabbit. It was a Vorpal Rabbit.