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“Did youneedto kill them?” I asked.
Svetlana quickly turned to me, pointing the gun in my direction. “Well, I wanted to, I suppose,” she said. She then turned and faced one of the targets, cocking the pistol again and shooting Vladimir’s image straight between the eyes.
“So, Nikolai, here is how you cock a gun,” she said, showing him how. I saw Nikolai fearfully copy Svetlana, cocking his own pistol. “Now, aim it at one of the targets and let’s see how you do.” Nikolai cautiously turned away from us, pointing his gun at a target. He covered his eyes, putting his face in his left arm as he shot with his right hand. The gun went off and Nikolai fell to the ground.
The bullet had hit absolutely nothing.
I couldn’t help but run towards him, grabbing his hand with mine and pulling him back up to his feet.
“Not bad for your first try,” I said, trying to comfort Nikolai, who was clearly a bit in shock from the power of firing a gun.
“Really?” he asked with genuine surprise.
“That was horrible,” Svetlana answered, sparing him the niceties. “Damien, show him.” I took the gun from Nikolai’s hands, removing my black leather gloves and handing them to him.
“Here, put these on,” I said. I turned to the same target Svetlana had shot at, cocked the gun, and fired. The bullet went straight through the same hole Svetlana had made herself, right between Vladimir’s eyes.
I was a good shot, admittedly. After my parents made fun of me for being a “faggot,” I spent days on end at the shooting range, making sure I was even better than my father, who prided himself on his own precision with a glock.
“That was…amazing,” Nikolai said, his eyes glossy and filled with awe. The cold was turning his cheeks bright red; I wanted nothing more than to reach out and warm him with my hands.
“Now, Damien, guide him,” Svetlana said. “He is too tall for me. Show him how to aim.
How to shoot. How to stand, powerfully, with two feet solid on the ground.”
Slowly, I approached Nikolai and handed him the gun. “Now, stand with your right foot forward—that’s right—and now straighten your right arm there just in front of you. The gun’s tip should be at the same height as your shoulder, that’s right.”
From behind, I put my arms on his left hip and his right shoulder, straightening out his stance. Even with the giant puffer on top of him, I imagined as if I were feeling his naked body. I felt myself beginning to get erect and did my best to hide it. Thankfully, my own trench coat was a good shield. I slid my right hand down his right arm, pressing my chest up against his back as I held onto his hand, moving it slightly so as to help him aim. Even with the snow swirling around us, I could smell Nikolai’s distinct scent—like lavender mixed with earthy tobacco. I breathed it
in deeply before whispering in his ear, “Are you ready, Nikolai?” Nikolai nodded his head up and down.
“Pull the trigger,” I whispered. Nikolai fired the gun, which once again pushed him backwards forcefully, but I caught him this time, making it so the recoil from the shot only pushed his body into mine, which was positioned at an angle slightly behind him. I could feel his hand trembling in mine, and so I squeezed it harder. I let my lips brush against the back of his neck, but only for a moment, pretending it was an accident.
“Not bad,” Svetlana said, giving Nikolai a slow clap. I looked at the target and saw that we’d hit Vladimir directly in the middle of his neck.
“Now, let’s see the boy try it out on his own.”
Nikolai walked a bit towards the second target with Vladimir’s mugshot. He mimicked the same stance I’d guided him through earlier, his right hand reaching out with the gun aimed at the target. He cocked the gun and fired, the force pushing him backward slightly but this time he was able to stand his ground—the jolt coursing through him and then leaving his body unmoved. Svetlana and I both looked at the target and saw that Nikolai had shot Vladimir’s photo straight in the heart.
“Not bad,” Svetlana said.
“Happy accident,” Nikolai replied. “I was aiming for between the eyes.”
“Try again,” she said, waving him towards her in order to shoot the third target. Nikolai walked her way and, once again, positioned himself to shoot the target.
Another gust of wind blew by.
You know you want to grab him again, it whispered.Don’t you remember the taste of his cheek?
I scowled, thinking,Shut up. This was no time to fantasize about the boy. But as he stood there, poised to fire the gun, to perform the task that had made his grandfather so dangerous and so successful, I saw the possibility of the strong leader Nikolai could become at the very same time as witnessing the sweet boy he was in the moment.
And yes, of course I remembered the taste of his cheek.
I was sure that, even if I were to hit my head and get amnesia, I would never forget it.
Nikolai cocked the gun. He pulled the trigger. The piece of the paper where Vladimir’s throat was had been obliterated.
“Closer,” Svetlana said.
