XIX

“Make sure you keep your eyes closed.” Rhett was almost giggling. “No peeking.”

Elodie’s chest swelled with anticipation. The knee-high sock she’d tied over her eyes at Rhett’s request inched its way down. She adjusted it until she was able to see the smallest sliver of pavement beneath her feet. Rhett had had her cover her eyes before the MAX had left the station. Since then, they’d switched trains, walked two blocks, and, from the lush green grass she currently trampled, they were now off-roading. She couldn’t be expected to stay blind the entire time. She would have tripped and fallen before they’d made it to the second train.

“I’m not peeking!” She was, of course, but she didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Especially after Rhett had witnessed the horror show that was her mother. He’d also participated a bit, hadn’t he? Elodie’s stomach knotted.

He was trying to fit in. Be a part of the family, Elodie told herself. He just wants Gwen’s approval.

She couldn’t think about it any other way. She wouldn’t. She and Rhett were matched. There was no escaping it.

The warm evening breeze twirled through her hair and tickled the back of her neck. “I want to get there already! I’m so excited!” Concrete met her feet again as Rhett’s clomping footsteps halted in front of her.

They were probably at a park. A real-life park. Elodie had talked about parks until she’d felt like a silly little girl, but Rhett had never shown interest in going. And, no matter how freeing it was to lean back in the swing and see nothing but your feet and the sky, it was no fun going alone. But now they were here. She could tell by the way the sidewalk framed the manicured lawn and the creaking of metal. Swing chains!

Not enough people played anymore. They were all so wrapped up in their careers and families, and they spent the little free time they had inside of a computer simulation. No matter how many times Astrid or Rhett or Gus or anyone else told Elodie that VR was indistinguishable from actual reality, it still wasn’t real. In VR, rain didn’t soak through her shoes and squish out with each step, snowflakes didn’t cling to her lashes until her vision was rimmed in bright starbursts, and sunlight didn’t paint her skin a deeper shade of golden tan. The way the planet enveloped them, played out around them regardless of their actions or plans—that was reality.

“Okay! Okay!” Rhett cheered. “Blindfold off!”

Elodie forced herself not to hop up and down as her fingers fumbled with the tight knot. She kept her eyes closed for a few moments after removing the blindfold. The wind tugged at the sock, twirling it around her arm.

I won’t scream like a silly little girl. I won’t. I won’t. I won’t.

Open.

“Oh.” Breath rushed from her body like from a stuck balloon.

“Yeah!” Rhett crossed his arms over his chest and rocked from the balls of his feet back to his heels. “Frickin’ awesome!”

Elodie stuffed the sock into the pocket of her jeans as she took in the six empty stalls stretched across the massive concrete slab in front of her. Each stall was a copy of the next, containing a green bench propped up on cinderblocks, a wooden stool, and, on the other side of the solid yellow line painted a foot behind the benches, two taller wooden stools.

The creaking sounded again and she swung her gaze to meet it. A metal pole was stabbed into the earth a few feet in front of a gray, windowless building. A wooden sign hung from the pole, its metal chains groaning with each listless sway.

Tuff’s Gun Range. Real Guns. Real Life. Real Tuff.

Elodie balled the toe of the sock hanging out of her pocket. “An outdoor gun range?”

Rhett rocked again. A grin fattened his cheeks. “And only certain Key Corp personnel are allowed in, so,” he waggled his brow, “you’re lucky we’re together. Without me you’d only be able to shoot in VR.” He chortled. “Lame.”

Elodie didn’t want to shoot in VR, and she definitely did not want to shoot in real life.

Aside from the creaking, the range was dead quiet. “Where is everyone?” she asked as she followed him to one of the middle stalls.

Rhett whistled at the gun that lay in wait on the oddly shaped bench. “I rented out the whole place.” He picked the rifle up, letting out a soft, pleased grunt, and tossing her a, “Just for us,” as he weighed the wood and metal piece between his hands.

“Because you know how much I like guns?” Elodie said to the top of Rhett’s head as he leaned over to wipe away an invisible smudge.

“Mmhhmm.”

His anemic reply told her all she needed to know. This date wasn’t for her or for their relationship. She was just tagging along while Rhett did what Rhett wanted to do.

“Feel this.” Rhett’s eyes were heavy lidded as he extended the rifle. She wouldn’t be surprised if he started drooling.

Elodie forced her arms out, and he dropped the gun into her upturned palms.

Rhett’s left eyebrow ticked up in amusement. “Heavier than you thought it would be, isn’t it?”

No. She’d never thought about it.

“It’s a Kalashnikov.” He articulated the name as if teaching it to a child.

Human-shaped outlines glared at her from paper targets held in place by wooden frames a few hundred yards past the stalls.

“I can teach you to shoot it,” he said.

Elodie couldn’t keep her lips from peeling back in a revolted grimace. “Actually,” she gingerly set the gun down on the table. Her hands snapped back to her sides as soon as they were free. “I think I’m going to sit this one out.”

“That’s probably for the best.” His chest puffed and he waggled his left brow. “You’ll want to watch the master at work for a little bit. Really get a feel for how it should be done.” He picked up the gun and fit the curved box magazine into the receiver. “We might want to start you off with something a little smaller. You can’t handle this bad boy.”

Rhett unhooked a pair of earmuffs from under the table and handed them to her before tugging on his own. Elodie’s smile was more a baring of teeth as she waved, slid the ear covers on, and backed away to the empty stool behind the yellow line of safety.

Rhett hunched around the gun and began shooting. Each bang of gunfire and hollow clink of empty shells made Elodie’s stomach squeeze tighter and her bones rattle within her flesh. Seconds lasted an eternity as he loaded clip after clip, shredding paper humans.

“Fuck yeah!” he whooped when he had finally run out of ammo and magazines piled on the table like steel skeletons. “Whoo! What a rush!” He tugged his earmuffs down around his neck and dropped the gun onto the table.

Elodie followed his lead and slid her ear protectors off and dropped them into her lap.

“AKs are great, but nothing quite compares to the Fujimoto Fury. Wish Tuff’s could get clearance to have one of those out here.” He cracked his knuckles. “The Fury doesn’t look like much, but it is a monster. A total beast. You slide your hand into this cannister, and it—” He held his left arm out straight, trying to demonstrate the weapon with sweeping gestures from his right. “I don’t know, practically grows around it and morphs into this intense fire demon.”

Astrid had talked about the Fury. It was one of the biotech weapons her father had created for the Key as a way to fund the civilian outreach projects he was most passionate about. Astrid had even hauled Elodie to a prototype demonstration. And what Rhett said was accurate. The way the fire had eaten up the mannequin, reducing it to ash in mere seconds, was something that fit right at home with the evil demon mythos.

She hadn’t told Rhett about having witnessed it for the very reason that now stared her down. She didn’t want this version of her fiancé. The man who pined after a machine that’s purpose was annihilation. She wanted a different version of Rhett. One she had yet to discover.

“It does a perfect job of lighting up those Zone Seven abominations,” he continued. “Turns ’em real crispy.”

Elodie fidgeted in her seat. “Why do you have to go out there?” she asked, changing the subject. “Why can’t whatever’s in Zone Seven be left alone? The Zone barriers are protected. Nothing has gotten into the city in—”

“Nothing has gotten into the city because my team and others like us go out there and make sure those things aren’t breeding and growing in numbers.”

She frowned. Breeding was such a gross word. She’d learned about the process in her Preinfection World Studies class. It was all moisture and blood flow and thrusting. So messy and invasive. It was much better now. Eggs were harvested, fertilized, and the developing embryo was cared for in the lab until the fetus was ready to be harvested from the gestation bot and delivered to its parents with a caretaker bot that would stay with the family until the child’s fourth birthday. All other urges that had encircled procreation were taken care of in sterile Release Pods at the MediCenter. Elodie had never used one.

She swung her legs as she sat on the stool. “But there hasn’t been an attack in, like, a decade.”

“Thanks to yours truly.” Rhett gave a mock bow.

“You weren’t even old enough to go out to Zone Seven when that attack happened. At least a few other people have had a hand in keeping the city monster free.”

“Yeah, well,” he blustered, “up until recently. But for the past three years or so, it’s been all me. And they’re not even the immediate threat. Eos, and Echo—”

“Echo?” Elodie asked.

“Don’t worry. I got ’em both handled. Ask anyone.” Rhett’s chest puffed.

Elodie blinked long and slow to keep from rolling her eyes. How many times would she have to tell him how great he was?

“And guess who was hand chosen by Fujimoto himself to take Fury on its Zone Seven maiden voyage?” Rhett was so full of hot air, he might take flight.

“You were.” Elodie meant to sound more excited, but the words spilled out flat and glum.

“Damn fucking right, I was!” He slapped his chest so hard Elodie winced. “And they’re going to have a team out there filming to show the big guys at Key Corp. Key News might even be out there too.” He sucked his teeth and rocked back onto his heels. “Your man could get pretty famous off this.”

Elodie’s feet stopped swinging. “Off killing?”

“My favorite thing to do.” He winked. “Now, get over here and let me show you how to be a lean, mean, monster-killing machine.”

Elodie slid off the stool, but her feet stayed glued to the pavement.

“I put in a request for unlimited ammo to go along with the Glock. It’s lighter. Way easier to handle. We can stay here until you hit the target.”

She crept forward, twisting the plastic-banded earmuffs between her clammy hands.

“El, can you imagine if we were out in Zone Seven together? Lighting shit up and wreaking havoc?” Rhett’s eyes glazed for a moment before he blinked himself back to the present. “Controlled havoc, of course. Even someone as high up the chain as I am has his orders. Too bad, though. My team and I would destroy some shit real nice if I was in complete control.”

Elodie was tired of listening. Tired of guns and death and destruction and who this brick of a man kept revealing himself to be.

“There’s the bot now.” Rhett rubbed his palms together, pausing as Elodie extended a trembling hand and placed the earmuffs on the table. “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not scared.” She picked at the edges of her short fingernails. “It’s just that my career, everything I’ve worked for and believe in, is about protecting and maintaining life. Guns serve no purpose but to end it.” She dragged her tongue across dry lips. “I don’t like them.”

“Gah, El, you’re being such a girl about the whole thing.”

There it was again. Her gender used as a way to patronize. Disliking guns had nothing to do with being a woman and everything to do with what she stood for and how she felt. Why couldn’t he see that?

She stiffened. “It really doesn’t have anything to do with—”

“You know, we had that talk this morning and I realized that I was being kind of stuck in my ways, so I come surprise you at your house, but you weren’t happy I was there, and then I bring you out here—a place that civilians aren’t even allowed—and you’re totally unappreciative. I don’t know what to do with you, Elodie.”

She hugged her arms around her middle. All of that was true. She hadn’t realized she was being ungrateful, but now that he’d said it . . .

Tears pricked her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult.”

Her relationship would be easier if she would stop telling Rhett she wanted something and then hate it when he delivered.

“El, hey, don’t be like that. I don’t want you to cry.” Rhett scratched the back of his head. “How about this? I’ll use your gun, finish up all the ammo the bot brought, then I’ll take you back home. You can clean yourself up and later tonight we can meet up in VR like we usually do.”

She brushed away a tear and nodded.

Rhett hooked his thumb through his belt loop. “Yeah, maybe we could go to ancient Rome and dress up in those bedsheets you like to nerd out in.”

“Togas.” She chuckled.

“Whatever.” Bullets tinkled like bells as Rhett arranged the boxes of ammo on the table. “It’s not my favorite time period, but you got a kick out of it last time we went.”

It wasn’t anyone’s favorite time period. Most citizens hung out in futuristic VR realms, but Elodie was a sucker for the past. It also didn’t hurt that the historic realms were sparsely populated.

“What about Paris?” She tingled with the thought.

He shrugged. “Whatever my girl wants, she gets.”

A small, muffled part of her told her that was far from the truth, but she stuffed the voice back into the trenches of her mind.

“It’s the city of love,” she said with a sigh. “Or it was at one point.”

Rhett lined up his shot, relaxed, and then lined it up again. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s romantic.” Elodie traced the stitching along her collar. “Couples used to go there and climb the stairs of the Eiffel Tower or watch it twinkling at night. They’d even kiss,” she whispered. “I’m pretty sure that’s where that term French kissing came from.”

“See, that kind of stuff is what was wrong with people from the past.” Rhett adjusted the earmuffs around his thick neck. “They were all over each other, touching and hugging, smashed together traveling to work and wherever else. And since that apparently wasn’t bad enough, they had to rub their disgusting, wet mouth holes all over each other too. They were out of control and practically begging to be wiped out.” He slid Elodie’s earmuffs closer to her.

Elodie pressed the squishy muffs against her ears and crossed back over the yellow line, flinching at the first round of gun blasts.

She wasn’t asking to kiss. She didn’t understand the need any more than Rhett and was fully aware of the risks involved. Mixing her saliva with Rhett’s could very well spawn another pandemic and wipe out Westfall. All Elodie wanted was a nice, romantic adventure that would assure their arrival to romancia-landia, and Paris seemed like a great place to start.

“Survive that, you monster fuckers!” Rhett roared over the cracks of gunfire.

Elodie grimaced.

Maybe Rhett wasn’t built for romance.