Hopper shakes his head. “These bad guys aren’t very good at it. Like at all.” His gaze lands on me, and he points. “Do you remember when we showed you how to load and unload a gun? How to identify which guns have safeties, and how to disengage them?”
“Of course.” I gesture at my brother. “Holmes here is the family champion in the clear, disassemble, assemble, and functions checkcategory.”
“Exactly.” Hopper gestures in a circle, his lip curled. “Whitaker clearly never taught his asshole family how to do any of that.”
Silas nods along. “Putting his entire family in this one closed-off neighborhood and not even making sure they know how to handle a gun properly? It’s a form of neglect, if you ask me,” he says, raising his rifle and calmly ashing another member of the Whitaker family.
This one falls in a narrow column of gravely bits.
I hold up a finger. “No one ever taught me how to use one of those pulse rifle thingys.”
Silas glares at Hopper, who protests, “I… He’s not my kid!”
“Still.”
Silas stalks over, hands me his rifle, and gives me a few pointers. I get most of what he says the first time around, and it’s got a dead-simple firing mechanism. Boone listens in, like maybe he wants to shoot the pulse rifle thingy too.
So cute.
Sy points out another runner, and I raise the rifle, track him for a few feet, then hit my target, dead center.
I’m proud of the shot, but it only takes out the guy’s middle, and he falls apart into two distinct…segments.
Er. I turn to Sy, and he leans in. “Don’t forget the sweeping motion.”
I take aim again, this time getting a perfect ash on the guy.
Before Boone can give it a go, two nearly silent helicopters fly overhead and circle the field next to the neighborhood playground.
Hopper seems excited by this development. “You called in reinforcements?”
“Sorry, Uncle,” Honoré intones soberly. “I had to.”
“Never apologize for doing the right thing!” Hopper pats his cheek. “The more, the merrier!”
Various members of my family, blood and otherwise, disembark from the helicopters, looking ready to go to war.
“Oof,” I say to Boone, pointing out the curvy woman yelling orders, rifle in hand. “That’s Hedy. She’s in charge. Maybe? Of whatever it is that my family does.”
“Hedy’s the best!” Hopper says, grinning at us. “I can’t wait to introduce her to my son!”
Hedy, flanked by my uncles and fathers, is an impressive sight. Hopper takes off toward them, and we follow, trying to catch up with him.
“The whole gang is here!”
Hopper is very excited.
“Are those reallyourfathers?” I ask as we intercept the contingent of badass warrior-types.
Holmes grins. “Yep. And I can’t wait to tell ’em you’ve already got a couple of kills on the books.”
I sidle up next to Boone. “So…you’re about to meet my dads.”
He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Can’t wait.”
Hedy is yelling at Hopper by the time we join the group.
“What the hell have you done?” she asks, gesturing at the carnage. “There arechildrenin this neighborhood.”
