Chapter 12
Saying Goodbye
At lunch, Leo spotted Brick and his cronies picking on Jason.
“I'm giving you your third quest, Leo,” Imp said. “Defend the defenseless, again. Stand up for the boy who's being picked on. The reward is 10 demon tears.”
“About time you gave me another quest,” Leo grumbled. He'd improved since the last time they fought, but he still wasn't loving his chances against Brick and his friends. Besides, he'd just come out of the principal's office and had no desire to return.
Fortunately, he had a plan.
“Hey Brick, old friend. How's things?” Leo put on a big smile and headed for the three boys.
Brick glared at him. “I heard you decked Evan Peterson this morning.”
“That is what they call fake news, my friend. It was a misunderstanding. He bumped into my fist by accident. At least that's what I've spent the last three hours telling everyone in the principal's office.”
It was kind of funny. When the principal started asking Evan why Leo might have wanted to punch him, it eventually came out that the other boy had punched Leo in the back of the head and tripped up Leo's friend. People became less sympathetic toward the big crybaby after that and they finally told Leo to go back to class.
“I don't care,” Brick said. “You owe me forty-five dollars and thirteen cents for a new shirt.”
“How did you come up with that amount?” Leo asked.
“It's actually forty-five dollars and thirteen point three cents,” Jason said, studying his cellphone from where he stood against the cafeteria wall. “I wanted to tell Brick that ten percent interest compounded daily was unreasonable, but I was afraid he'd hit me. Nice of Brick to take the point three cents off the total.”
“What can I say? I'm a kind and generous guy,” Brick said. “The point is one of you had better pay up, or I pound you.”
“Well,” Leo said, still wearing a big smile. “I don't have the money, but I will in a month. If the three of you leave me and my friend alone until October 17th, I'll pay you then.”
Jason tapped his cellphone, face tense from concentration. “By October 17th, the amount in question will be over five hundred dollars.”
Leo shrugged. “Let's make it an even thousand. If Brick and his friends here leave us alone for the next month, I will pay them a thousand dollars.”
The three bullies looked dubious. “Where are you going to get a thousand dollars?” Left Crony asked, cellphone out, with its camera facing Leo.
“That's my concern,” Leo answered.
Brick stepped forward, using his size to intimidate Leo, and glared down at him. “Let's say we wait a month, and you are unable to come up with the money. What then?”
“I'll have the money. But if I don't, I'll come to you guys and let you do whatever you want to me. I won't try to stop you, protest, report you, or anything.
Right Crony went up to Brick and whispered something in his ear. Brick burst out laughing. “Oh, that would be awesome, then we post it online...” He laughed some more. “Okay, Leo, I think we can live with those terms. You'd better be here October 17th. If you try anything or back out of the deal, we'll spend the rest of the year hunting you down and making you suffer.”
“Great.” Leo, still smiling, held out his right hand to shake. Brick's response was to give him the finger and walk away.
From what he remembered, Brick and his two friends would become Afflicted after the Change, or be eaten. Either way, they wouldn't be a problem. If they did somehow survive, he'd seen hundred-dollar bills blowing down Main Street, post-Change, and nobody bothering to pick them up. Finding a thousand dollars under those conditions would be a piece of cake.
As soon as they left, Jason ran over to Leo. “Are you crazy? I lip-read that guy saying miniskirt and diaper to Brick. If the world doesn't end and you don't have the money, you're dead.”
“Who cares? I'll burn that bridge when we get to it. In the meantime, Brick is off our backs, so we can focus on saving the world.”
“Congratulations,” said Imp, “though your methods were unorthodox, you completed your quest and defended the defenseless. You have also leveled up in negotiation skills and gained twelve Demon Tears.”
“I wish I could do more gaming with you this afternoon, but I'm supposed to come home for some family dinner thing,” Leo said. “I don't dare miss it. My parents are worried about me as it is.”
“Yeah. Pork chop night. Too bad,” Jason looked disappointed. “But help me out. Where do I get a 'plant?” He said the last in a furtive whisper.
“Like I said. If you see an old man looking for someone to carry his groceries, help him out and he might give you one. Other than that, I don't know. If I find one, I'll give it to you. Promise.” Leo felt bad for not telling his friend that he was growing an implant inside him. But that was for someone else, and telling Jason would only upset the guy.
Leo pulled out his lunch, suddenly starving. “I got a PB and PB sandwich. Want to trade? Just kidding, I like PB.”
***
In his backyard, Leo danced around the elm tree, hitting it furiously with his bat, retraining his body in the skills that had kept him alive in his previous life. In addition to his baseball bat, he used a couple of sticks like knives, stabbing and slashing at the tree. He was getting better. He flung himself to the side, rolled over on the grass, shot back up, feinted high, struck low at the root at the base of the tree, to one side then the other, ducking away from an imagined attack.
He heard the back door open.
“Wow, what did that tree ever do to you?”
“Hi, Dad.” Leo stopped training, dropping his banged-up bat and putting his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. If Dad was going to notice anything wrong with him, it would be now. “I saw this online video where a guy showed me how to do this.” Leo picked up his bat again and poked the ground with it, trying to seem boyish.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“What online video?” Dad asked, curious.
“Crazy Vlad's School of Combat,” Leo said, tossing out the first name that came into his head.
“Looks like you're getting pretty good.” Dad wandered over and looked at the elm tree. The blanket was a bit torn up and there were dents on the tree bark, but the tree was fine. “Anyway, it's time for dinner, and if you still want to shoot the pistol, I can take you out tonight.”
“Wow. Really? Great! Thanks.” Leo stood up.
***
“What's wrong, Leo? You not hungry?” Mom asked, taking a swig from her Bio-Blessed energy drink. Her plate held a large mound of meat that was shrinking quickly as she stuffed her face, appearing to barely chew before swallowing and taking another bite.
“I'm not that hungry.” Leo had taken a few bites of his large slice of pork. It was good, but it reminded him of the animals he'd eaten in his previous future, the freshly killed, bloody animals he'd torn into and eaten raw because he was starving. That tended to take away his appetite.
“Leo's so weird,” Lydia said. “Since last Sunday.”
“I am not,” Leo said. “You're just ugly.” Leo made faces at her across the table.
A fork shot out and speared Leo's pork chop. “You snooze, you lose,” Dad said, placing Leo's slice of pork on top of his own meat pile. He took a huge bite. “You know the rules,” he said through a mouthful of food. “You don't eat it, it's mine.”
Leo shrugged, ignoring Lydia's laughter, and took a bite of mashed potatoes.
After dinner, Dad unlocked his bedroom safe. Leo saw him push a 0 and a 5 on the safe keypad, but couldn't make out the other three digits. Dad pulled out a large plastic box. Leo followed him through the house and out the front door.
“Me and Jason were doing some online research the other night. We found this site claiming Body Booster, Inc. is a fraud. The owner got 100 billion in loans for a worthless formula and now he's covering it up,” Leo said as they headed for Dad's faded orange Subaru.
“That's impossible. They just got FDA approval,” Dad responded, not really listening. “Did I tell you I own stock in that company?”
“The FDA got bribed.” Leo got in and buckled his seat belt. “Everyone with a chemistry set is trying to reverse engineer the Bio-Blessed formula. Don't you think it's odd that Body Booster, Inc. has been the only one to succeed?”
Dad started the car and put it in gear. “They got good people? I was lucky to get the stock when I did. It's already tripled in value. I was thinking of buying more.”
“I think you should sell.” Leo wasn't sure why he was bothering to talk to Dad about this. It certainly wouldn't affect anything in the long run, but he remembered how upset Dad had been last time around when the stock had tanked, and he'd feel bad if he didn't at least try to warn him.
Dad reached out and grabbed Leo's shoulder and shook it gently. “Leo, if I sold that stock and it went up to over ten times its current value, like they're saying it will, I'd have to kill you, and you're my only son.”
“I can see how that would be a problem,” Leo answered.
“Anyway, you're twelve. When did you start giving stock advice?”
Leo shrugged.
“Well, here we are.” Dad turned into a parking lot in front of a large white building with a black sign on it saying “DAVE'S SHOOTING RANGE.”
***
Next to the shooting range, Leo saw another billboard. “THE ONE WITH THE MOST, WINS.” He sighed. What was up with that stupid slogan, anyway?
As they entered, the guns in the next room kept going off with deafening pows! and the smell of gunpowder filled the air. Dad bought some ammo and reserved a shooting lane. They were given a small stack of paper targets and issued noise-blocking headphones. Then they headed for the back as Dad grumbled about the cost of ammo.
They took their assigned lane next to an overweight man in a red flannel shirt. Dad placed his plastic box on the old wooden counter in front of them, and opened it, revealing a large .45 semi-automatic pistol and two magazines.
“This is a H.S. 9000,” Dad shouted proudly over the noise. “One of the best semi-automatic pistols money can buy. At least, that's what the guy in the gun shop told me. Supposedly, you throw it in the water and cover it with mud and it'll still shoot, not that I intend to test that. It holds fifteen rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. Like any firearm, this pistol is dangerous. Never point this at anyone you don't intend to shoot. Keep your finger away from the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Keep the safety on until you're ready to pull the trigger…
Leo tuned him out. He knew this already.
Finally, Dad clipped a target and sent it 20 feet down the lane. Then he loaded his gun, aimed, and fired. The gun went off with a loud bang. A brass cartridge was flung to the right, and a hole appeared in the upper left side of the target, just above the inner black circles. Dad fired nine more shots, filling the target with holes. Four were in the black, the rest in the outer surrounding rings.
“Not bad,” he said, “considering I haven't fired it in years. Your turn, kid. Show us what you got.”
Leo took the gun, remembering his former training.
***
“Go! Go! Move your ass!” the no-neck sergeant shouted.
Leo, covered in sand and dirt, crouched to avoid enemy fire, desperately running from one gun emplacement to the next, firing his rifle at the target, running, then doing it again. That was how he'd learned to shoot. His training had been minimal, though. Everywhere he went, there'd been ammo shortages. The reason was simple: everybody needed bullets, but hardly anyone had the equipment or know-how to make more. That was also why he almost never carried a gun. A gun without bullets was pretty useless.
***
First, under Dad's watchful eye, Leo pushed fifteen bullets into the magazine. Then, with some fiddling, slid the magazine into the pistol and pushed it until it clicked home. The pistol felt large, heavy, and awkward in his twelve-year-old hands. He pulled the slide back to put a bullet in the chamber. Remembering lessons from his previous life, he inhaled, pointed the gun at the target, flicked off the safety, then, holding it as still as he could, he exhaled and fired. The gun jumped in his hands and he almost dropped it. He hit the target, though, barely. A hole appeared in the upper right corner.
“Not bad, kid,” Dad shouted encouragingly.
Leo tried again, aiming carefully, pointing below the target's center to compensate for the recoil, and fired a second time. By the ninth shot, Imp informed him he'd leveled up in shooting pistols.
Dad brought the target back, and they studied it. Leo had hit the black twice, but this was more luck than any skill on Leo's part. “What do you think, Leo? Not bad, considering it's your first time firing a gun and you're twelve.”
“It's okay,” Leo said, not at all happy with the results. “I'd like to try again. I think I can do better.”
Dad set up a new target. “Great. Let's see what you got.”
The one hundred bullets ran out much faster than one would expect. By the time they finished half an hour later, Leo had leveled up again in shooting and was hitting the black part of the target exclusively. He'd even got a couple of bullseyes.
“You're a better shot than I am,” Dad said proudly, showing Leo how to use the cleaning kit to clean the pistol after use. “Maybe you should join the military. I think they have classes in school.”
“Thanks,” Leo said.
They were silent as Dad packed up the gun and they left the shooting range.
“It's like you matured overnight,” Dad said as they drove home. “I wasn't going to do this until you were older, but you and your sister are alone some nights and I think I can trust you to treat my gun with respect and not take it out to play stupid games with it. The safe combination is 05521. Your mother's birthday. Think you can remember that?”
Leo nodded, grateful for Dad's trust. He'd been thinking he'd have to break into Dad's gun safe or something, but this was better. “Thanks, Dad.”
If he couldn't stop Dad from turning into a mindless monster in a month, it was good to have this opportunity to say goodbye.