Fugue State by M.C. Adams

this,” he told her. “You don’t fire until the bottle crosses below the top of that pole.”
    Alexa gazed into the distance. She saw a wooden pole with a light at the top about thirty yards in front of them. The pole stood about twenty feet tall.
    “It’s a good thing you didn’t wear those fancy clothes of yours tonight. You’re bound to get a little dirty down there.”
    The ground was covered with dew, and dirt and grass stuck to Alexa’s scrubs. She shuffled into position. He threw a total of twelve bottles into the air, one after another. Some went to the left. Some went to the right. She aimed at neon-green bottles and clear ones. She hit five of twelve, and only one was a clear bottle.
    “All right,” Joe sighed. “You can get up now.” He massaged his right shoulder before taking another swig of whiskey and walking out into the clearing. He set the remaining bottles upright in the field, spaced apart in a line that ran a good thirty yards. Nestled in the short grass, the bottles were visible targets from where Alexa had been shooting.
    “This one was a military drill. It frustrated the hell out of me, but it will be good for you.”
    “Okay,” she agreed, wiping away the wet grass and dirt that clung to her clothes.
    “You run parallel to the bottles and shoot as many of them as you can as you go.” He gestured with his hand the path she would take. “At the end, turn, switch hands, and shoot the remaining bottles as you run back. Continue like that ‘til they’re all gone.” Joe spat at the ground. “It’s harder than it looks. Good thing you’ve got your running shoes on. I’d hate to see you have to do it barefoot.”
    Alexa readied her stance, groaning to herself as she placed the handgun in her non-dominant left hand. She ran and started firing. One, two, three, four shots before she hit a bottle. The fiery explosion that resulted caused her to shuffle her steps. She fired more shots, struggling to steady her hand. Another bottle went up in flames. Alexa stumbled and fell hard onto the moist ground.
    Joe appeared at her side. “You all right? Lord, I didn’t mean for that.”
    “I’m fine,” Alexa spouted back, sucking the blood from her lip. Joe reached out to help her up. She shoved his hand away and stood. “I said I’m fine,” she repeated with an air of defiance.
    “Then start running,” He remarked with authority.
    She took out another bottle before she reached the end and turned around. With the gun now in her right hand, she felt more confident. She took out three bottles in a row. She still had several misses, however, and she had to turn again and shoot with the left hand. She hit another bottle before she had to turn around again.
    Only one bottle remained. She aimed at the bottle and squeezed the trigger several times with no success. Damn . After she passed the bottle, she turned and fired while running backwards. The bottle finally exploded into a ball of flames as Alexa tripped and fell, bumping her head on the soft ground.
    She lay there. Her chest heaved in spasms. Joe’s face hovered above her; looking down, he laughed heartily. This time, Alexa didn’t wait for him to offer assistance. She extended a hand. He grabbed it and hoisted her to a stand.
    “How’d it feel?” he asked.
    “I needed that,” she replied, still catching her breath. The field seemed magical as the sun inched its way over the horizon.
    Joe followed her gaze and nodded. “All right, girl. Let’s get you home.” He coaxed her into a worn-down, thirty-year-old Ford pickup truck so he could take her back to the Four Seasons.
    Alexa drifted off to sleep in the truck. She dreamed she was walking by the library downtown on a beautiful sunny day, with birds chirping and flowers in bloom. But her surroundings turned dark and cold. The flowers withered, and the air turned quiet as death.
    Jamar sprang out of a bush. Kensie appeared at his side. Before Alexa could react, a large piece of