Target Practice

“Isn’t this kind of thing supposed to be done with pistols or something?” Everyone could hear the fear in Edgar’s voice except Edgar. All he heard was his shrill laugh. “I mean, come on, how am I supposed to hold one of those?”

“Be thankful Karl’s not making you guys use swords,” Antonio said solemnly. “You ever see that guy in town with one arm and a chunk missing from his leg? Karl’s handiwork.”

Edgar looked across the table at Karl, trying to catch his eye in an attempt to show remorse. Karl looked instead at the bundled package in front of them. The full moon cut through the bare trees and illuminated the steam rising from the warm bodies and the hot breath being released in quick bursts from the onlookers. The canvas was removed from the package.

“I can’t spin around with one of those in my hand,” Edgar whimpered to those around him. No one met his eyes. On the wooden table were two muskets, inlaid with silver filigree that glinted in the moonlight. “Can’t we use something more modern, at least? These things are, like, three hundred years old.”

“Two hundred and forty-five,” grunted Karl. Antonio proceeded to inspect the weapons. “Been in my family the entire time. We use them to settle disputes.”

“I don’t even know what dispute you think I did,” Edgar screamed. A few people turned away, pretending to be enraptured in conversation. “All I said was — “

“We all know what you said about my sister,” snarled Karl. Antonio finished looking over the guns and offered them both to Edgar, the challenged party. “Pick.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then don’t. Just means I have an easier time at target practice.”

Edgar looked at Antonio. His passive face didn’t offer any balm to the inflamed fear giving Edgar the shakes. Edgar looked around at those gathered in the icy woods. He saw her half-hidden among friends.

“Julia! Julia, tell them he’s crazy. He can’t do this.”

“Don’t talk to her after what you said!” snapped Karl. “Pick!”

“Karl, all I said was I thought she was attractive. The texts about her…”

“Fetishes.”

“…They were just a joke.”

“Pick your gun or you forfeit your right to defend yourself.”

There was no escape. With trepidation, Edgar picked the fancier of the two muskets, bearing an inlaid compass in the stock and familial initials embossed into the breech. Karl took the other gun from Antonio’s outstretched hand.

“Back to back,” Antonio said. Snow crunched underfoot. Specters of whispers followed their path. Karl’s lips peeled back into a sneer as he felt Edgar’s shoulder blades twitching.

“Ten paces, then turn.” Antonio looked at both men. “Begin.”

One. Two. Three. Edgar squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep from vomiting.

Four. Five. Six. A prayer slipped through his chattering teeth. Someone sniggered.

Seven. Eight. Nine. Karl’s eyes were unblinking. His hands steady. The smile ever present.

Ten.

Bangbang.

Crunch.