SHDYCF2 Chapter 19 The Calm Before The Storm

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Calm Before The Storm

Sylvie waved good-bye to Alfred as she left the range to walk home. Her lessons hadn't been too bad today, and she left them feeling actually cheerful.

It still amazed her how willing many people were to pay for an hour's lesson. She's stopped the ridiculous bidding wars that had sparked her first few lessons, and instead concentrated on a single flat rate of a hundred dollars an hour. She knew that still wasn't very reasonable of her, but she didn't dare lower it further, for fear of being overwhelmed. Already she had a two-month waiting list, and no sign of slowing.

The lessons themselves weren't bad at all. She reserved the right to cancel the lesson at any time for any reason, which she made clear in the sign-up sheets, and she wouldn't do repeat lessons until after everyone had cycled through. She felt that only fair, as she worried that some rich kid would try to monopolize her time from everyone else.

Occasionally, she would wow the crowd with some of her trick shots. That always brought in more signatures, especially of people that were convinced she could teach them to shoot like she could. Not that she promised she could, but she could teach them what she knew.

A flash of bright colors attracted her attention as she turned onto her street. Pausing by the light pole, she took a harder look at the poster that had been placed there.

A large bull bucked and snorted as it tried to shake off the cowboy on its back, who clung on grinning widely as he held one hand in the air. Above it stood the proud words: 'Red Leaf Rodeo! Come see the Excitement!'

Hmm. What's this about a rodeo?" Sylvie wondered. It's not like this is good weather for one, after all! She glanced irritably at the cold grey clouds above and the cold wind that swirled around her. She couldn't think of a worse time to be outside, but perhaps… She took a closer look at the bottom and saw the date of the rodeo was March fifth.

Nodding, she left the sign and returned to her house, stil thinking about the lessons.

When she got there she found herself surprised to see Taryn there, sharpening her spear and laughing with Sylvie's mom.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Sylvie asked, coming into the garage.

"Not much." Taryn shrugged. "Came to ask you something."

"I've gotten the day off." Her mom told her. "And I thought we could do something together, just us girls. What do you say?"

"Sounds like fun mom! Let me just dust off my jacket and we can go!" Sylvie said enthusiastically.

Taryn placed her spear in the corner, not without a backwards look, and after a moment's hesitation Sylvie picked it up and handed it to her.

"I doubt they'll let me in with this." Taryn pointed out.

"I know, but you should still keep it close, like at the counter or something. Just in case."

"What do you mean?" her mom asked curiously. "Just in case of what?"

"Well, I was reading a story yesterday about a couple that had their home broken into just so the thieves could steal their colt pistol that had been presented to one of the presidents. I'm not saying our stuff is that valuable, but everyone knows this Winchester is my rifle, just as that spear is Taryn's. They're unique now, and people might want them just as bad." Sylvie explained.

The others looked thoughtful. "I guess that makes sense." Her mom said. "I've been saying to your father that we need to get a gun safe for your rifle. I guess we should see if Mark has a nice one we can get."

"Thanks mom." Sylvie told her sincerely.

They left the house and went downtown. Here the buildings gleamed with fresh paint, large windows and bright banners. The construction was all but done here, and shopkeepers had moved back into the area.

Melinda's had always been small; Sylvie could remember a time it had occupied one room barely bigger than a supply closet in the back of the alcohol store. It appeared that her business had gotten much better since then, she mused as she stood in front of the large rows of shelves carrying name-brand care products. Melinda now boasted seven dryer chairs, five wash basins and enough space for maybe ten shelves. It was crowded too, with nearly twenty people as they walked in and looked around. Then,

"Anna! Mary! Sylvie! Taryn!" The proprietress jogged over, beaming at them.

"It's been so long!" she said. "You don't write, you don't come in! You haven't seen any of my new works and baubles! Seriously, what does a girl have to do to get the attention of her friends?"

Sylvie's mother smiled indulgently at the twenty-five year old woman. "We've been rather busy, Melinda. We would have liked to have come, but…"

"Oh, never mind that now!" Melinda cried. "You can tell me as I do your hair! Come on, come on! I've got an open chair over here somewhere…oh! Here we go, Missus Cranston is finished! Well done Susy!" she said to the small-statured young woman who was finishing the touch up of the sour-faced Cranston. "We'll be seeing you again real soon, right Missus Cranston?"

"Of course!" Cranston's bright, mellow voice seemed completely at odds with the severe cut of her face. "It's always a pleasure, Milly dear! And Suzy here is divine."

"Thanks!" the young woman glowed under the praise, escorting the older woman away to the register.

Melinda immediately sat Anna and started working on her hair while Sylvie and the others waited politely. Taryn and her mom started scanning shelves and talked quietly between themselves while Sylvie read a rifle magazine she'd brought along, grateful that Melinda seemed to take her rifle and Taryn's spear in stride. She'd noticed the looks the other patrons shot her when she came in, but damn if she'd leave her rifle behind anywhere!

While she read, Sylvie listened with half an ear to the free flow of conversation between Melinda and her mother, deciding those two had to be the worst gossip mongers in the whole town. They spoke of the weeds in neighbor's yards, the hard efforts of the people in town, those that might have simply evaded the police nets and were lying low in the hope that they could restart their gangs in the future.

"What do you think of the Bloodstone, Anne?" Melinda asked as she finished shampooing her mom's hair.

"Oh, Mellie." Her mom laughed gaily. "I think it's going to be a wonderful show for our town. I mean, really, when was the last time we had anything like this on display? This is really going to bring interest back to our small town."

"I think the interest is already here." Melinda said dryly. "Have you seen my shop since you walked in here?"

Sylvie frowned, glancing around her and shook her head. Already she could tell that the population of the store had nearly tripled since they walked in, and a line of people were glancing through the front of the shop.

"I guess you're right." Anne said with a sigh. "I wish they would just leave us in peace." She said, uncharacteristically angry.

"It's all right mom." Sylvie sighed. "We're getting kinda used to it."

""Yes, and no wonder!" Melinda went on cheerfully while she started to rinse Sylvie's mother's hair. "You two seem determined to be in the spotlight! Why, I can't tell you how many people I've had in here talking about your trick-shooting, Sylvie! It's become the talk of the state, really. And of course, Taryn! She's not as well known of course, but just yesterday Ciera was in here talking about Taryn on the track field and the display she put on with that spear of hers! Astonishing, I'd have a hard time crediting it except she's apparently been invited back to teach!" Melinda's eyes flashed towards the spear before focusing on her work again.

Sylvie herself was curious; she hadn't known Taryn had gone to the track field. That must have been after she stopped at the parking garage. She wondered if now would be a good time to bring ask her about it, because she'd be certain to ask her about the parking garage, she thought unhappily. She didn't have a solid excuse yet, other than she'd walked past it hoping to avoid reporters and anyone else tailing her. Maybe she could say she'd gone for a walk? That would be likely enough, she thought.

She walked over to where Taryn and her mom were looking at hennna paint. In Taryn's hands she held a white bottle, while her mother held a blue bottle, both of them absorbed in reading the labels.

"Taryn." Sylvie said, coming up behind her.

"Sylvie." Taryn nodded, while her mom jumped; apparently Taryn's sharper ears had heard her coming.

"What are you up too?" she asked, buying herself a moment to compose her question correctly.

"Ah…just some paint." She held it up. "I was thinking of perhaps going to Josh's wearing my warpaint from the show."

"Why?" Sylvie asked startled.

Taryn's face split into a slow, secret smile. "Well, though he won't say anything about it, I was in his room alone last week and did some prying about. In fact I confess I spied." She giggled. "I found a poster-sized picture of me from the show, done up in my entire costume. I think he's been using it to…remember me." She blushed fiercely.

Sylvie found herself both embarrassed and aroused at the statement. "I see, so you're going over there just to torture him." She found herself grinning in turn. What fun! She could almost see the wide-eyed, stammering face of Josh now.

"I don't think that's necessarily a good idea." Her mom said seriously, though Sylvie could see the corner of her lips twitching. "He might get the wrong idea."

"Oh mom!" Taryn laughed. "It would be fun! Sylvie can come with me! Maybe take a couple of pictures with her camera at his face and send them to you."

"What's gotten into you Taryn?" her mom asked, fighting a giggle. "You've never been this cruel to anyone before."

"Probably some fun." Sylvie laughed. "You two are perfect for each other, I've said it again. It would be hilarious to see his face when you come dressed up like this. Let me know when you want to do it and I'll be there, camera and all! That'll show him for being late to the shoot!"

"You two are something else!" Taryn's mom threw up her hands and walked to where Melinda was beckoning her. Sylvie could see her mom already placed under the dryer.

"So." She said.

"So." Taryn said curiously.

Sylvie sighed. "So what's this I hear about you doing some teaching now?" she asked.

"Oh, that." Taryn shrugged a little uncomfortably. "Well, it happened yesterday after…hey, where did you go to anyway? I uh, tried to get a hold of you and couldn't."

"I went for a walk." Sylvie said with a straight face. "It wasn't easy though, had to duck into one of the parking garages to shake some pursuit and managed to double back around escape. I tell ya, Tar, this latest batch of journalists is something else!"

"Oh," Taryn's face went blank, and she turned back to the bottle. "Well, to answer your question, after I left the house to…walk, I couldn't relax, so I went to the track field with my spear to train. It was pretty empty so I ran some laps and did some forms with the spear, and when I was done, I realize I had accidentally strayed into the time reserved for the football team. The coaches were there, as was Miss Solomon, our gym teacher? I guess she'd seen us as she walked between the buildings. Anyway, she invited me to teach the students about the spear routines I was doing."

Sylvie frowned. "But I thought you were looking for a teacher yourself." She asked.

"I am, I told her that I knew a handful of forms and maybe one actual discipline, if Halls is right, but I don't really know more than that. I need someone else to teach me, and it turns out that her cousin runs a dojo in the next county. She said she'd talk him into giving me lessons with the spear and some close-in work."

"Cool." Sylvie said. "Think he might be able to schedule me in as well?' she asked.

"I don't see why not." Taryn said, surprised. "I can ask, at least."

"Great." She nodded. "Have you spoken to your mom about it?"

"Not yet." She admitted, looking over to where Melinda was shampooing her mom's hair. "I wasn't sure I knew enough to get the position, after all. And besides, I thought we were going to do a couple of shows, remember?"

"Yeah." Sylvie said with a shrug, remembering their discussion about how to pay for the truck. "But, let's face it, how many shows can we do before people stop showing up? We need to be a little diversified, and having a part-time job teaching could help, right?"

"Of course it can. Don't think I'll make as much as you though." Taryn said with a laugh.

"Tell me about it." Sylvie groaned. "I keep thinking that I could never get any lesson to be worth as much as people are paying me, but somehow they pay it, and come back for more. I had one guy come back five times! Don't know where he got the money to do that, but he did." She shook her head. "I just can't believe some people, you know?"

"Yeah." Taryn agreed. "I know. It is weird, but I guess we have something to offer, right?"

"Yeah." Sylvie nodded. "I guess so, but it's really weird, you know? Here we are, just a hair over our eighteenth birthdays, just out of high school, and we're already famous."

Taryn nodded.

"Yeah, I've often wondered how those movie stars can handle it. Being famous, I mean."

Sylvie found herself rudely interrupted by a commotion in the store. A burly fellow in a leather jacket had pushed his way past a group of young giggling school girls and rushed to the exit, a snarl stretching his scarred features as he clutched a pair of purses, the girls behind him screaming in fright.

Sylvie reacted without thinking, whipping her rifle from its sheath and pointing it at the man.

"Stop!" she yelled.

The man raced faster, trying desperately to get out the door, where people had already thrown themselves out of his way. In seconds he would be clear.

ShhhhTHUNK! The tough went sideways as Sylvie watched and landed painfully against the door frame, pinned to the door by Taryn's spear through his jacket collar.

Sylvie cocked her rifle, the sound loud enough to be heard over the dryers.

"That's far enough, buddy." She said coldly. "You'll have to wait for the sheriff."

Taryn stood beside her, looking equally severe as they stared at the man who was looking over his shoulder at them.

His eyes glittered with malice and hate while from his mouth spilled invectives to turn the air blue. He strained against the spear holding him while not letting go of the purse, trying to tear his way out.

A siren started up out on the street and red and blue lights flashed. In a few minutes a pair of Ben's patrol officers had cuffed the man, relieved him of his purse, and placed him in their cruiser.

While the police took statements, the store buzzed with excitement. Everyone seemed to have their own account of the adventure and all of them wanted to share it with their neighbor.

Sylvie and Taryn stayed aloof from this affair, simply watching the police go about their business and waited for their turn to be interviewed.

One of the officers took pictures of Taryn's spear and then tried to pull it out. A frown crossed his features as the spear remained lodged solidly in the frame. He tried again, to no avail.

"May I help?" asked Taryn.

The officer nodded slowly and stepped away while Taryn grasped her spear solidly on the handle and tugged. With the sound of splintering wood, she pulled free her spear and checked it critically for damage.

"I'm sorry miss, but I've got to take that in for evidence." The man said.

Taryn made to protect the spear, but shook her head and handed it over.

"I know." She said sadly. "Just…take care of it, will you? That spear is one of a kind; it's my spear, if you know what I mean."

The man shrugged, but placed an evidence tag on it.

"Don't worry Taryn." Ben said, stepping past his officers and scanning the store quickly. "We'll take good care of it."

"Thanks Chief." Taryn said with some relief.

"Yes, thank you." Taryn's mother looked relieved. She held her daughter's hand tightly.

"You were so brave, honey." She whispered to her.

"Actually, I was just operating on instinct." Taryn whispered back. "I didn't feel afraid at all until after the guy was in handcuffs."

Sylvie nodded, but noticed Ben looking right at her with a hard glint in his eye.

"Sylvie, did you use your rifle?" he asked.

"No chief." Sylvie replied. "I drew it out and pointed it at him, but I didn't discharge my weapon."

Ben sighed. "But that still means it was used in a crime, Sylvie."

"Was Taryn's purse used in a crime?" Sylvie demanded. "Mom's makeup? Melinda's shears? I don't think so. So why should I hand my rifle over?"

Ben grunted. "It needs to be checked. I trust you," he held up his hand to forestall her hot retort, "But for the records, I need to prove that you didn't fire it."

"You have witness statements." Sylvie pointed out.

"I do, but that's not concrete evidence. It won't take long, I promise."

Sylvie chewed her lip. "All right, but only if I can come with." She said, as she passed it to Ben.

"What's the big deal, honey?" her mom asked, a trifle concerned. "It's just…"

"It's my rifle." Sylvie said hotly. "Like Taryn said, it's important to me." She deflated a little. "But I suppose you're right chief." She said at last. "I should have it tested to prove I didn't use it. But here's the thing." She said. "I've been using it nearly every day out at the range, either trick shooting for folks or teaching them how to shoot straight. I've cleaned it regularly, but all you're going to be able to prove is that I've used it. How can you tell I haven't fired it this time by swabbing the barrel?"

Ben nodded, acknowledging her point as he handed it to another officer who placed a tag on it.  

"You're right on that, and my boys will go over the place with a fine tooth comb making sure no bullet's been fired. Between that and the video from the store proving beyond a doubt that you didn't use the piece, I don't see why you can't have it back tomorrow."

Sylvie nodded in relief.

"What about my spear?" Taryn asked tentatively. "I mean, I feel almost as strongly about it as Sylvie does her rifle."

Ben looked at her with a frown. "I don't see why they are so important to you." He said slowly. "They're very fine weapons, but they're, well…"

"They're more than that." Taryn and Sylvie said together. Everyone was looking at them now, and Sylvie could feel their gaze on her.

"Look chief," she said quietly. "Can you picture spending your workdays without your badge?"

Ben shrugged, but looked uneasy.

"Right." Taryn nodded. "Your badge is a part of you now. The same thing goes for my spear and her rifle. Halls…she was very strict with our training."

"Keep your weapons clean, keep them sharp, keep them ready." They said in unison.

"Exactly," Sylvie agreed. "Halls would whip us if we failed. So we learned very quickly that we kept our weapons near us, and to trust no one with their care."

Ben's stare took on a note of baffled rage while the rest of the salon stayed very quiet.

Sylvie glanced around, feeling more than a little angry. Hadn't they heard her story before? Hadn't they been told exactly what had happened to them over and over? Hadn't their videos and interviews been aired time and time again?

"Look," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "I can't begin to count how many times we've given interviews, reports and chats. Halls was our jailor and teacher. She gave us very important lessons, lessons that we made sure to learn. Part of that is what's going on with our weapons. Yeah, it sucks, but what else can we do about it? These items are ours, bought and paid for with our blood. It's not something that can be taken away, not something that someone can understand easily. And many of you just. Don't. Get. It." She emphasized, looking at her mom, her friends, the complete strangers that surrounded her.

She spun abruptly around and dropped her jacket, lifting her shirt before anyone could stop her. She heard gasps of surprise, whether at her actions or the faded scars on her back, she wasn't sure.

"See?" she said. "They're there still. Taryn and I have advanced healing, we don't scar easily, and those that do are usually faint and unnoticeable. The Docs are amazed at how fast I heal, but some things," she dropped her shirt and turned back around to face everyone, "just don't heal up right. I'm told these will go away soon. Perhaps in a few months, but the ones that count?" she drilled a finger to her temple. "The ones that you can't see? They're there. They always will be, and I don't care what you think, or how you view it, I will carry them forever. They are a part of me, and part of me," she pointed at her Winchester, "is in that gun now."

Sylvie stopped, uncomfortably aware that their moms were both starting to cry. She looked helplessly at Taryn, unsure now what to say.

Taryn stepped forward a little, taking most of the attention onto herself.

"This isn't easy on any of us." Her words were soft, and incredibly gentle, though her gaze was on her mother. "There isn't any hand book on this that we can read and make everything right again. We don't have anyone to guide us on this road because, as far as I know, we are the first people to be changed into centaurs, and then kidnapped, trained and put on display. We have no choice but to fumble our way through things, acting out of instinct to come to grips with our new reality."

"We aren't victims." She continued, taking her mom's hands. "So please put that thought out of your heads. We might have been at one point, but now we are just people. A little more different then some," she gibed with a smile, "but still, we are people. Many of you know us; you've gone to school with us or watched us grow up. Mary, I see you in the corner; we had AP Calculus together, remember? You and I spent hours on those trigonometry equations. Cindy, remember the swim meet where we both tore our suits on that hook in the bathroom hall? We were so embarrassed we almost didn't come out, but we still competed and won."

"Mom," she looked her in the eyes. "Remember how you and I were always talking with one another, every late night session where you gave me advice on everything, from dresses to boys?"

She stood apart again, scanning the crowd that silently stared back. "Am I a completely different girl than the one you used to know?" she shook her head. "Maybe a little older, a little wiser, a little different, but deep down, where it matters? I'm still me, Sylvie's still Sylvie, and we are your friends and daughters." She added to her parents.

"Please don't think you've failed us." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she clenched tight at the hand in hers, "I promise you, you haven't. People may say otherwise, but they are wrong. We're fine, and no amount of discussion with someone else is going to change that." She laughed, rich and pure in the air. "Believe me, if all the talks and descriptions I've given of my life to people hasn't changed me, haven't helped me, then telling it over and over to someone else isn't going to do it either."

Sylvie nodded slowly. Taryn had managed to diffuse the situation again, she thought warmly. She was a good herd-mate, a great friend, a good negotiator.

One of the officers stepped inside and touched the chief on the arm, making him jump slightly.

"What is it, Connelly?" he growled.

"I'm going to take the perp back chief." He said quietly. "But there's something about him I thought you'd like to know; he's got another one of those strange symbols tatted on his arm."

Ben frowned uneasily, looking back at the squad car outside as if he could see through the tinted windows.

"What's wrong chief?" Sylvie heard her mother ask.

"Nothing." Ben immediately replied, his face losing all expression. "Nothing at all.