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Perry nodded quickly and energetically. He carefully followed all of Dew’s instructions, then set the weapon on the table in front of him. He raised both hands slowly off the gun to show he wasn’t holding it. He looked . . . relieved. Like all the pressure was off, like he’d just lost his virginity.

“Okay,” Dew said. “So you didn’t feel the gun jump in your hand?”

Perry shook his head.

“When I shoot it, I can feel it kick, but it’s not so bad,” Dew said.

“Strong as you are I shouldn’t be surprised you can’t feel it at all.”

“Uh . . . Dew?” Perry had a look on his face like he was afraid to ask a question. For f.u.c.k’s sake—he had cut monsters out of his own body, had taken two bullets and kept on fighting, and he was afraid to ask a question.

He doesn’t want to look stupid, Dew thought. He doesn’t want to look stupid in front of YOU.

“Spit it out,” Dew said. “You can ask me whatever.”

“Um . . . squeezing real slow is cool and all, I guess, but if I have to use this for real, don’t I want to fire faster than that?”

Dew smiled. “Sure, that’s a logical thing to ask. Not that you’ll have to use one of these for real, but just in case, reload the magazine and fire off the whole thing, fast as you can, okay? We’ll look at the target and you can compare accuracy. Then we’ll talk about how to fire in different situations. Sometimes you want one accurate shot, sometimes you want to lay down as much lead as you can as fast as you can. Okay?”

Perry smiled and nodded. A real smile for a change.

Still looked hideous with the st.i.tches, but at least it was genuine.

Dew took three steps back. He casually pointed the .38 at the floor, but he wasn’t about to put it back in the holster. Not yet.

Perry loaded two more bullets into the magazine, inserted it, then thumbed the slide release so it clicked home. He pointed the weapon and fired off seven shots in less than two seconds. It sounded like a machine gun. Dew watched the kid’s hand move, or rather he watched it not move. It might as well have been chiseled out of granite and bolted to the wall.

Perry ejected the magazine, checked the chamber, set the gun and the magazine down, then raised both hands off it again in seeming slow motion. Dew stared downrange. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He flipped the switch that brought the target back to the firing station for a closer look.

Perry had put all six shots in the center ring. The center X wasn’t even there anymore, just a big hole with ragged paper edges.

Perry smiled and looked down at Dew. “That’s pretty good, right?”

“Kid, are you f.u.c.king with me? Are you sure you’ve never shot before?”

The big man shook his head. “No sir. Dad wouldn’t let me touch any of the guns. But, I mean, it’s only hand-eye coordination stuff, right? Like a video game. I’ve always been good at anything like that.”