Radical Read Online Free Page A

Bex,” Randy says, not very convincingly.
    Carl just smiles and dips his chin.
    “Are you all set to start?” Riggs asks, looking around for someone.
    “Yes,” Randy says, “but we can hold off a few minutes.”
    “Great.” Riggs turns, and somehow I’m turned with him. “Ladies,” he calls out. Some girls who are hanging near the far end of the range look at each other. The redhead from the parking lot is in the middle of the group. Riggs waves and they start toward us, reluctantly, as if only because they have been ordered to do so.
    “Ladies,” Riggs says again, waving them close, his hand between my shoulder blades so I can’t bolt, “I want you all to meet Bex Mullin. Bex, these are some of our core girls. Karen Severnsen.” A tall girl with a dark-blond mullet clenches my hand in a hard shake.
    “Hi, Bex,” Karen says. Her arms are defined, strong, and her hand crushes mine, but her smile is real.
    “Trinny and Rhonda,” he says. A girl with pigtails and a short, soft girl both say hi.
    “And Delia.” A girl with dark skin and braids smiles and says hey. It’s good to see her here; it means they’re not into all that racial-purity crap.
    “Stacy,” says a girl with a long brown ponytail, offering her own name when Riggs doesn’t immediately come up with it. Then he acts like he knew it all along. I can’t tell if her sour look is for me or Riggs.
    The redhead is the only one left, and she hasn’t moved.
    “Cammie,” Riggs says, like it’s her rank more than her name.
    She walks forward and extends her hand.
    The queen. Or maybe lieutenant. Maybe lieutenant of the Apron Brigade — that’s what some of the guys on the forums say, as if women would only need to use the guns in their apron pockets if their men fell. Is that what this is? Because if Riggs felt the need to introduce me to “the ladies,” his “core girls,” then he sees us as different from all the guys he’s not bothering to introduce.
    “Welcome,” Cammie says, but her look is a challenge. Her nails are short but still sharp. One pinches into my wrist as we shake hands, like she’s daring me to squirm or pull away.
    “Hi,” I say. My voice sounds funny.
    Cammie doesn’t let go of my hand.
    “I’ll leave you all to get acquainted before the training starts.” Riggs walks, brisk and formal, back the way we came, all that easy looseness gone. “Come on, David,” he says, gathering my father without breaking stride. “The girls will take care of her.”
    Sure they will. I refuse to rub at the stinging indentation on my wrist. The girls are already moving back to the end of the range where they left their stuff, all of them together, separate from the guys.
    “Okay, everyone,” Randy says. I turn to watch and find myself near Mark, who is glaring again.
    “Wasn’t my idea,” I whisper.
    He just mumbles, “Whatever.” But it’s clear he’s blaming me.
    “Basic weapon handling,” Randy says, staring at a few still talking in back, “takes a lot more than hold, point, and shoot. I know most of you have been shooting for years, but since we don’t know you all personally, we’re going to start slow, checking the basics. Today, in small groups, you’ll take turns shooting. That way we can monitor everyone, make sure everyone is handling their firearm safely, and focus on perfecting the building blocks, so that once we are working with higher-caliber weapons, moving from the ranges to tactical maneuvers, we can be sure a sound foundation is in place.”
    “And we
will
be moving toward tactical maneuvers,” Carl says, maybe seeing that Randy has lost some of the older guys. “Holding positions. Attack and retreat. Flanking. Defensive positioning. Maybe even some squad work, if all goes well,” he says, glancing at Randy.
    Squad work. Tactical maneuvers. Holy crap. Thank God Dad left already — this stuff would freak him out.
    “Right,” Randy says, “but we’re going to start with range rules and