Manuel poured the rest of the mason jar into his glass and took a sip. "When you manufacture something you might mill it down to .01 inches in a commercial effort. Milspec means manufacturing to a higher specification, often to .003 inches instead.
"It means less friction and wear on moving parts which means breakdowns are less common and long life for machinery. It's the same concept behind why a big diesel rig will drive for three million miles, and an American car will start to break down much sooner. They're built to a higher specification. Same reason Toyotas run forever."
"I buy American whenever I can."
"American car companies don't want cars that stay on the road forever," Lambert said. "They make their money off repairs, spare parts, and replacing older cars with newer cars. Americans are just being capitalists. They don't intend to make cars that wear out and break down."
"This is all very interesting, but I could be training."
Manuel downed the last of his liquor in one gulp. "By all means, train to your heart's content."
Training by myself was like masturbating in the dark in juvenile hall. Not something I found very compelling under either circumstance.
Chapter 5
A week passed, and I barely even saw the others. I simply practiced forms and shadow boxed in the basement. Lambert would cook sometimes. The menu was highly limited. I swear I might as well have been in a detention center. We were having lunch, and I was beginning to go a bit stir crazy. I looked at Manuel until I caught his eyes and said, "I think my training would move along quicker if I had a sparring partner."
"Perhaps it would," Manuel said. "But whoever sparred you would pick up bad habits, and bad habits get slayers killed."
"You're really going to make we wait a year?"
"Maybe in six months, you can spar Lambert again, maybe."
I set down a half eaten hot dog. "When will my armor be in? I'd like to get a look around town, maybe try out some of the restaurants. My bank accounts have been restored, and I'd like some hot food that hasn't been boiled."
"Hey, fuck you," Lambert said. "You cook!"
"We only go out as a group, and there aren't many restaurants left in Dayton," Manuel said. "In another week, your gear will be here, and you can start going to the grocery store with us."
I was slowly starting to develop a devilishly simple master plan, and I needed to go to the grocery store to pull it off. I went back down to the basement and practiced.
A week later, I was chilling in my hammock when I heard the craziest noise. It sounded like a machine throwing thunder, and it got louder and louder. I ran downstairs to the loading dock. Ben, Lambert, and Manuel all had full gear on and ski masks. Manuel said, "Stay out of sight."
I hid.
They went outside and returned carrying boxes. Then they went outside again and came back in carrying more boxes. This went on for a good ten minutes. Finally, Manuel closed the dock bay door, and they all stripped off their ski masks. Manuel pointed to a box marked armor. "That's yours, Sidney."
I grinned. "Was that a helicopter?"
"Whenever we have anything shipped in it has to go through the Air Force base," Ben said. "And then they lift it to us via helicopter. We can't just let somebody ship a box to us without dogs checking for explosives."
I ripped open the box. On top sat three ski masks. I tried one on, and it fit perfectly. Next, wrapped in paper was the top half of my body armor. I tried that, and it fit. I tried the leggings next then the boots and gloves. The Kevlar helmet fit too. Manuel said, "Go and look in the mirror."
I went upstairs. I looked in the mirror and just stared for the longest time. Looked like a slayer. Like Death. I smiled. I walked back downstairs. Manuel held out a pistol to me. "It's loaded."
I took it.
Manuel grabbed three aluminum cans out of the recycle bin. "We can shoot in the basement. The range is thirty yards. You hit all three cans, one shot each, and you can go out with us. Otherwise, you have to wait."
I smiled. I wanted out of that stinking warehouse so badly even if it was just to make a trip to the grocery store to pick up food. Madness was creeping into my very soul as the place reminded me so much of juvenile hall without guards.
Manuel set up the cans and walked back towards me. I pulled the slide back on the gun, and it indeed had a round in the chamber. Ben and Lambert had followed us, and all three of them were just looking at me. I cocked the pistol. Manuel said, "You don't have to cock it; just squeeze the trigger."
I took aim at the right most can and "BAM!" it went flying. I didn't hesitate; I locked onto the second can and "BAM!" I turned to the third can within a split second and "BAM!"
Manuel said, "Good."
"Nice shooting," Ben said.
I said, "Less kick than my .45."
"Heck yeah," Lambert said. "Who would want a .45?"
"Does this mean I get my Colt back?"
"No," Manuel said. "And we'll keep your 9mm locked in the armory."
Bastards, they should trust me: I’m trusting them. "When do we go grocery shopping?"
Ben said, "Tomorrow."
I smiled.
The next day, "Gear up!" sounded across the intercom. I donned my armor and ski mask. I went to the loading dock. Manuel handed me a holstered 9mm and a sword with a belt. He said, "Do you want a knife?"
I pondered that question for a moment. Would I ever answer it with a no? "Yeah."
He handed me a knife that clipped onto the sword belt. Manuel pointed to a van I'd never really noticed before. "Hop in."
I got in the van, and Lambert and Ben climbed in as well in full gear. Manuel got into the driver's side and pushed a button for the garage door.
Manuel hit another remote, and the gate opened to the outside. The sun nearly blinded me it'd been so long since I'd seen it. We made our way to the grocery store. They had fresh corn on the cob, and I grabbed eight ears. I grabbed a bag of frozen wedge fries and a bag of dinner rolls. We made it to the meat department, and I started eyeing the steaks. The rib-eye looked good, but I wanted to start slowly. I looked at the New York strip steaks when a butcher approached me with a wide toothy grin. He said, "Can I help you?"
I looked at the strip steaks again, and there were some nicer than others. "I'd like a few of these strip steaks. I want the second, third, and fourth ones from you, and the one closest to me."
The butcher said, "Good choice."
He fished them out and weighed them. Then he wrapped them up in paper and handed them to me. I grabbed a salt grinder and a pepper grinder. I grabbed a bottle of A-One, not that a good steak needs it, but I know some people can't eat a steak without it.
I grabbed some cereal and milk too. I picked up a pound of thick cut bacon and some granola bars. A pound of real butter found its way into my cart.
I approached the checkout lines, and Lambert, Ben, and Manuel were already in line. I queued up behind them and waited. Ben said, "Is that enough corn on the cob?"
"I was going to cook dinner," I said. "I got two ears for each of us."
Manuel started fishing stuff out of his cart onto the conveyor belt. "Nice."
"There's a grill on the roof, right?"
Ben's eyes went wide. "You're going to grill?"
"I could broil the steaks in the oven I guess, but I prefer to grill them."
"That grill is old, and it sucks," Lambert said.
"Worth a try."
Ben said, "You're making steak?"
I patted the package of dead cow and gently placed it on the check out's conveyor.
Ben said, "You're kidding, right?"
Do I ever kid? I shook my head no.
We made it back to base, and I started simply by putting a stick of butter on a plate to let it warm up to room temperature. I put the rest of the butter in the fridge. I hit the intercom. "Is the roof locked?"
"No," Manuel said. "The lighter for the grill is in a drawer in the kitchen."
"Thank you. How do you wan
t your steaks?"
"Medium well," Ben said. "Burn it, no red in the middle."
"Medium well has just a shade of pink left in the middle."
"That's fine!"
"I want mine rare, and when I say rare I mean bloody," Manuel said. "I want it cold in the center. I do not fear microorganisms."
"Medium for me," Lambert said. "That grill sucks."
I shucked the corn. I went up to the roof and eyed the grill. It looked like an old second-hand grill, but I grinned when I saw the word, CHARBROIL. I lifted the lid. It hadn't been cleaned in ages. I looked at the bottom of it, and it had a natural gas line feeding right to it. I lit it, and a yellow and blue flame ignited. I went back downstairs and got some paper towels and vegetable oil.
There was a scraper hanging on a hook on the grill, and I started scraping the ancient layers of crud off. Finally when it looked fairly clean, I wiped it down with the vegetable oil. It was hot and singed the hair on my fingers. I just grinned.
I went back downstairs and put the wedge fries in the oven. Put a big pot of water on to boil. I ground a good amount of salt and pepper on the steaks and took them to the roof. Put two on the grill and took the dirty plate downstairs for a fresh one. I was beginning to see why Lambert didn't use the grill. There were a lot of stairs.
I grabbed some tongs and headed back to the roof. I checked the steaks. The one on the right was charred nicely, and the one on the left was barely cooked. I traded their spots around and gave them a ninety-degree turn. The lid came down on the grill and waited. The tongs flipped the steaks over and tossed Lambert's on in the center. Waiting, I flipped Lambert's, turned mine and Ben's and plopped Manuel's on the hot half of the grill.
I waited a bit and then flipped Manuel's to the cold side. Pausing a few more minutes, I piled the medium well steaks on the plate and then put Lambert's and Manuel's on top. I went downstairs and put the corn in the boiling water. My spatula flipped the wedge fries over and put them back in the oven. The dinner rolls ended up in a basket. Setting the table with a quickness, I put the dinner rolls and butter out.
I hit the intercom and shouted, "Dinner!"
Footsteps thundered. I fished the wedge fries out of the oven. Everybody got their steak, wedge fries, and an ear of corn.
We all sat down at the table, and they dove into the food like a pack of wild dogs that hadn't eaten in weeks. The first person to make a sound was Manuel, and he just went, "Mmmmm…"
I grinned for the trap was set and baited.
As they slowed down, I said, "Did I get them right?"
Lambert said, "Is there more corn?"
"Yeah, four more ears. I'll go get them."
I grabbed the still hot corn out of the kitchen and set it in the center of the table. Manuel, Ben, and Lambert all took an ear. I sat down and waited while they crunched on the sweet corn.
"Did I get them right?" I asked. "The grill looks like it might be older than you guys."
Manuel set his finished corn of cob on his plate and got this far away look in his eyes. "Mine was perfect. Best I've had in all the steak dinners I can remember. No restaurant would ever serve it that rare."
"A little too much pepper on mine," Lambert said. "But otherwise very nice."
"Utter perfection," Ben said. "Juicy but hot inside. What else can you cook?"
"I know how to make Kung Pao Chicken…"
Ben pushed his chair back and fell to his knees in front of me. He clasped his hands together as if in prayer. "Will you marry me?"
"Shut up," I said.
Ben sighed. He got off his knees and back into his chair.
Manuel said, "You'll make Kung Pao for us?"
"Can you make it spicy?" Ben asked. "Restaurants always say they can spice it to taste, but they never make it spicy."
"I make it plenty hot," I said.
"Will you?"
I can make it hot enough that he’ll bleed from the eyes, but I doubt that is what he’s asking of me. "Sure. Why not?"
Ben said, "Groovy."
"Don't worry about the kitchen," Manuel said. "We'll see to it."
I said, "OK."
They cleared the dishes, and I went to the basement to practice with renewed vigor.
The next day they were heading out to go on a raid. I approached Manuel and asked, "What if you guys don't come back? How will I get out of the warehouse?"
"Give us at least 24 hours," Manuel said. "Then, there's a sledgehammer in the basement workshop. Go upstairs to the armory and knock the door or wall down. Inside the armory are door blasting charges, and they're easy to use. Use about six of them on the main door. That'll get you out."
"Good luck today."
Lambert said, "We don't need luck."
I waved them on their way and went to practice. Within a few days, it was time to go to the store again, and I got the fixings for Kung Pao chicken. Manuel saw me grab two pounds of chicken breast. "Get more, so there are leftovers."
I grabbed an extra pound.
I worked my magic. The others sat at the table and waited. I brought them a big bowl of Kung Pao and rice. Manuel said, "No egg rolls?"
"I don't know how to cook egg rolls. Stay away from the red peppers," I said. "You don't want to eat them."
"How can you make Chinese food without egg rolls?"
"I don't know how."
Ben grinned and picked up one of the scorched cayenne peppers with his fork. He grinned and ate it. Tears started to streak down his cheeks.
I said, "I warned you."
"These aren't tears of pain, my friend," Ben said. "These are tears of joy."
Manuel sighed, but he grabbed a spoonful of the chicken.
They started to eat like starved animals for the second time. I asked, "Why is it that you guys don't cook more often."
Lambert said, "I cook all the time!"
"I joined the church when I was eleven," Ben said as he grabbed two red cayenne peppers and ate them both at once. "They don't teach us how to cook. They keep us busy with other things."
Manuel nodded.
About halfway through, Lambert said, "It's really hot."
"Just eat the vegetables and rice for a few bites," I said. "The chicken sucks up all the heat."
Lambert wiped sweat from his brow and ran for a fresh glass of water.
Manuel caught my eye. "You'll cook for us again."
"I don't know," I said. "It's a lot of work."
"We're protecting you. It's only fair."
"It's not like I'm actually on the team. If I was on the team, you guys would be bringing me up to speed as quickly as possible."
The room fell silent.
Ben said, "I'll train you."
Manuel shouted, "Ben!"
Ben looked down at the food and whimpered.
"It's my decision to make," Manuel said.
"I want real food, boss," Ben said. "I'm so sick of cold sandwiches and boiled hot dogs. I can train him."
Manuel looked me in the eye. "You'll make egg rolls?"
"I could give it a try I guess," I said. "Likely find a recipe on the internet."
"You'll cook steak again?"
"Steak is easier than Kung Pao. Even with that clunky old grill."
There wasn't a sound in the room except Lambert eating.
Ben said, "Please, boss."
Manuel said, "What else can you cook?"
"A few simple things like eggs, bacon, and pancakes," I said. "I can read a cookbook."
He pointed his fork at Ben. "You'll pick up bad habits."
"I won't! I don't care!" Ben howled.
Manuel took another bite of chicken and grinned. "Train him. Push him hard."
Chapter 6
The next morning I woke to a loud banging on my door just before 6 AM. I growled and opened the door. Ben stood there grinning in full armor. "Get your armor on! Let's go!"
I pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt. Then I donned the leggings and top. I sprinted after Ben to the basemen
t. Ben had all the lights on and stood there with two practice swords in his hand. I walked up to him.
Ben looked me dead in the eyes and almost chanted the words. "When you come out of that first year alone in a cave, you're ready to eat glass. You're ready to chew nails. You're ready to catch bullets with your teeth."
I interrupted, "Do you really do those things?"
"What?"
"Eat glass, chew nails, and catch bullets with your teeth? Do you guys really do those things?"
Ben paused. "No! You're just ready mentally. You're ready to kill."
He held out a practice sword for me. "Strike for the kill! Stay on the offensive. If you have to, catch my blade on your armor. But stay on the offense. Don't go for anything less than a killshot!"
I took his words to heart and grabbed the sword from his hand. I went on the offensive aiming for his neck. He blocked it and pierced forward for my heart. I dodged to the right and aimed another chop at his neck. He turned and caught my sword with his. I spun around backward aiming for the neck again, and he blocked it deftly. I flipped the sword downward and aimed for his knee. It would have been a nice slice had it not been a wooden sword.
Ben hissed.
He charged me like a raging bull with a sword point aimed at my chest. I pushed his sword out of the way with mine, and he ran past me. He aimed a slash at my neck, and I ducked under it. I stabbed out at his stomach. He was quick and blocked it. He attacked again aiming for my heart. I didn't block it in time, and he planted the sword point on my chest. I batted it out of the way and started raining blows on his head and neck. I pushed him backward until he was up against a wall.
He tried to strike back in between my blows. I caught the wooden sword on my forearm and planted the edge of my sword on Ben's neck. He grabbed me by the lapel and pushed me back. He started to circle away from the wall. Once he had room to maneuver, he advanced on me.
We kept at it until noon. Ben refused to be backed up to another wall, and I couldn't seem to land another hit on him.
Ben said, "Break."
I stepped away from him and lowered my guard.
"What's for lunch?" He asked.
"I haven't had breakfast yet!"
"What's for breakfast?"
I winked, not at Ben, but at a pinup girl that was taped to one wall. "There's eggs and bacon."
Bullets Will Work: A Vampire Slayer Novel Page 5