He felt the discomforting recoil of the handgun. Holding a handgun never gave him ease. It screamed opposing his morals and principles growing up. He lowered his handgun and looked to where the bullet had hit. The target seemed to be unfazed, hitting way behind the concrete wall.
"Again!" Nica said behind him, jolting Luke's senses.
He aimed again at the target, with two hands this time. The gun's weight seemed to strain his arm, hence, using both hands had steadied it. He semi-closed his left eye and aligned his right eye to the sights of the weapon, adjusting the line of sight to the center of the circular target, standing meters away.
"Breathe," Nica said slowly.
He could still see the nozzle of the gun unsteadied, even though he gripped the handle hard. He squeezed the trigger again. The target was hit a few inches from the center.
"Way off, still." Nica pulled herself close to Luke's body causing the latter to shake inwardly. She clenched his arms steady and adjusted Luke's stance kicking with her foot. Luke's feet spread further, achieving a stable stance, and aimed again.
"Breathe, then squeeze," Nica whispered. Her warm breath caressed Luke's nape.
'This does not help,' Luke thought. 'I don't remember my trainers this close.'
He squeezed the trigger again, with his heart hammering against his chest. He was unsure if his uneasiness was caused by his lack of gun training or because of Nica's body close to him. He clenched harder this time, minimizing the recoil of the gun. The bullet punctured the center of the target.
"You are a quick study, Luke," Nica said, pulling herself back away from Luke.
"You are a good teacher." He smiled.
"We will not stop here. You will practice rifles. You said that to gain more evolution genes, we should kill more Bugmen. Maybe in the future, you will fight with us, Luke. With semi-automatic rifles, you can take down many aliens."
Nica took him to a wider gun range, with more targets on the field and placed in different locations. A few soldiers practiced shooting, and some situated themselves on the other side of the range, honing weapon dismantling. They stared at Luke as they passed by them toward the shooting line.
"Oh, lookie here. A neophyte!" One soldier smacked his comrade's shoulder, pointing at Luke.
"What is he doing here?" One soldier asked.
"We are here to practice," Nica responded.
"Look at him. He's just a kid, Nica. Was he not trained in the army camps?" An older soldier scorned.
They could tell. The kids his age when chosen would supposedly develop muscles in the camps months after they enlisted. However, his physical features seemed too soft for their eyes.
"I thought he was our new cook," another one commented behind them.
"He's our Evolver, all right. Jameson's replacement. The Major wants Luke here to undergo basic training to learn how to defend himself," Nica said with no hint of dismay.
Looking at the soldiers, Luke wanted to walk out and watch the construction of his lab instead. Maybe he could, but he knew that Nica wouldn't let him. The Major had clear instructions.
"OK, Luke. This is an M60, modified firepower, and silenced." She said as they arrived at a table where the rifle sits, and a throng of magazines filed beside it. "Armor-piercing bullets, incendiaries, or regulars, you name it."
The soldiers easily handled the rifles like lightweight. However, when Luke tugged the weapon from the table, it challenged Luke's limit. He could lift it, but moving with it would tumble his footing.
Nica took one, too. "Let me demonstrate," she handled it with only one hand on her side. She placed one magazine in its slot so effortlessly. She stood steadily behind the shooting line and beyond the row of that demarcated section had obstacles with targets formed into human representations, like mannequins.
"Brad, hit the timer," a row of soldiers on a viewing deck above them lined up to watch Nica demonstrate the neophyte. Brad hit the button near him and the ear-splitting alarm rang. Luke remembered that kind of bell, it signified that there would be simulations conducted in the field, restricting others from shooting so as not to intervene in the simulations.
Nica nimbly dashed to the nearest stack pile of chopped wood with the rifle on her armpit. He hunkered down and aimed her rifle at the designated target, the first Mannequin dressed in a beaten tuxedo, which supposedly represented a Bugmen. She squeezed the semi-automatic trigger three times and the mannequin received three clear headshots. Right after, she veered to her side quickly across the field and crouched behind the next pile of stacked hay. She was fast. Then she did the same sequence until the third obstacle.
"Time," she said right after. The mannequins received three shots on their heads.
"Fifteen seconds!" Brad said.
Luke could see immense appreciation among the faces of the soldiers witnessing the demonstration. There were soft cheers from among the soldiers. They were cheering her.
"It's your turn, Luke," Nica said, exasperated.
"Be sure to aim at the targets, not at us!" One soldier said, and a burst of laughter loomed.
"C'mon, evolver. You can do this," some cheered. But he knew the cheers were not authentic.
Luke clasped the weapon with one hand and placed a magazine with the other with the utmost difficulty. 'How could Nica lift this?' He thought, looking at a slender woman.
'Remember your training, Luke. You can do this,' He convinced himself.
He checked the shoelaces of his boots. Double knots. Before, he smacked the ground running due to his untied shoelaces. He hoped it wouldn't be the case, not only would it embarrass him if it happened, but it would also endanger the audience with his rifle shooting a stray.
"Time!" Nica shouted and the alarm went off.
Luke darted emulating the same with Nica's steps and lowered down to the first pile of wood. His knees betrayed his confidence and disoriented his crouch, almost smacking his butt against the ground. He groaned to lift the rifle for a proper aim at his shoulder. He felt shaking in his arms, his aim wobbling.
'Three shots to the head,' he pushed himself.
He squeezed the trigger thrice, but all were missing their marks. Laughter loomed from the audience but he disregarded them, concentrating only on the required three hits on the target's face. He squeezed the trigger again, three times. At least two shots hit the neck and the face of the target. Then he repeated until he achieved the requirement. Gruntingly, he hauled himself up, succumbing to his shaking knees, and the straining glutes. He never worked out ever since.
He dashed to the second obstacle but tripped himself halfway through. His face kissed the grassy soil. Luckily, he held onto his rifle and avoided the misfire.
"C'mon evolver!" one soldier shouted. "Don't be lazy!"
Guffaws from the audience emerged. He endured them, the embarrassment, the obstacle circuit and completed the course.
"Time!" Nica shouted.
"One minute and five seconds," Brad announced.
"Wow! All time low, people!" Laughter triggered again.
"My grandmother is better than him!"
Still, Luke just disregarded them with a flat face. He was not trained in the camps back in 2030 to be a soldier. His training only comprised evolution and science, with a little bit of survival as a basic requirement for travelers.
"Congrats, Luke," Nica said with a sarcastic smile. "You are the slowest in the history in the year 2069."
"Can't wait to start evolving virus," Luke said, capturing his breath.
"Nope. Let's do the demonstration again until you can achieve less than thirty seconds." She sneered.