Chapter 5 - THE FIFTH SHOT
Claire remained frozen in her firing position, her eye locked through the rear aperture.
"Last one," Briggs called out from behind, folding his arms across his chest with a smug, satisfied grin. "Make it count, clerk! Try not to hit the clouds this time!"
The Wyoming wind picked up dramatically, howling across the open plains. The bright red safety flags snapped hard to the left, standing straight out in the gale as a heavy cloud of pale yellow dust swept across the fifty-yard range, obscuring the paper target behind a hazy screen of grit and shimmering heat waves.
Any standard soldier would have paused, waited for the dust to clear, or complained about the sudden crosswind.
Claire didn't move a muscle.
She waited precisely half a second, calculating the exact speed of the wind vector, the density of the airborne dust, and the thermal rise coming off the concrete lanes.
Her right index finger applied three pounds of smooth, backward pressure.
Crack!
The fifth and final round flew from the barrel, its high-velocity crack piercing through the roar of the gale. The fifth brass casing arced gracefully through the air and landed with a soft clink right next to the previous four casings, forming an impossibly tight, three-inch pile on the dusty concrete.
The echo of the shot rolled across the open ridges and died away into the distance, leaving only the sound of the howling wind and the snapping flags.
Claire slowly, deliberately lowered the rifle to the low-ready position. She clicked the fire-selector back to SAFE, removed the box magazine with her left hand, and laid the weapon flat on the green foam pad of the wooden bench.
Downrange, the paper target stood exactly as it had five minutes ago—completely, unmistakably whole, without a single visible bullet hole anywhere on its white surface.
Caldwell began to clap slowly, a mocking, sarcastic rhythm that echoed under the wooden shelter.
"Well..." Caldwell said, stepping forward with a broad grin on his face. "That was certainly... educational, Private Morgan. Zero for five. I believe that sets a new record for Headquarters Company."
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The infantrymen behind him erupted into another chorus of loud, mocking laughter, slapping each other on the back as they prepared to head toward the mess hall.
Claire stood completely silent, her hands resting at her sides, her face an unreadable mask of total, absolute stone.
