in·quire

verb

ask for information from someone.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The calculated gun shots rung in the air, the noise startling to anyone who wasn't used to being around such loud objects. There was no music playing, nothing to calm someone who was nervous about shooting a gun for the first time. The outdoor range was shabby, but Hopper told her she would have more privacy here in this cold September than at the indoor range. They signed their names in and carried on through the little building, out back where there were separate spots for each shooter, and targets out in the distance.

Little metal ducks and chickens were set up in the distance for the more experienced and sharp shooters. There were some that hung, swinging lightly in the wind. Emilia followed Hopper to the spot he selected, and watched as he laid out the gun, open and exposed, empty chamber, on the table. The only other person at the range was wrapping up, waving a friendly and familiar hello to Hopper as he departed.

Hopper went through the basics, again and again, over the last few nights. He covered the basics again here, explaining the parts of the weapons, but more importantly, the safeguards. How to stand, how to place the gun back down, how to show that the chamber was empty.

Emilia nodded, muttered "yes" and "uh huh" every time he explained another thing she had to remember. She felt bogged down, to say the least. When he finally had her load the clip and put it in the gun, her hands were sweaty. The gun was heavier than she expected. Hopper stood behind and beside her. She planted her feet firmly and looked out at the targets in the distance; her mind replaced the boring circular image with a Demogorgon. Her finger squeezed the trigger hard, it took a lot of force to pull it back, and the recoil startled her, but she kept her eyes on the target the entire time.

She missed, entirely.

"Well, not everyone is born to shoot," Hopper said, "Let's go."

"Ha-ha," Emilia replied to his mockery, then focused on the target again. Pulling the trigger, it released another bullet and this time it did hit the target. She grinned, feeling a slight euphoria spread through her fingers.

Her shooting improved over the hour that they were there, but she found it rather boring after some time. The hype about guns didn't really reach out to her, they existed but she didn't feel the need to have one. They were winding down at the range when Emilia remembered something she had read in the library; an article she'd dug up out of curiousity.

"Hey, Hop," she wavered back and forth from heel to toe as he packed up the weapons.

"Mm?" He mumbled, focused on the task before him.

"This is a small town..."

"What have you done now?" He glanced at her and grinned.

She laughed, but it felt weak. The topic she was about to bring up was serious, and she felt more nervous about that than holding the gun. She ran her sweaty hands through her hair, which was a mess since it had been pulled back in a ponytail for the shooting. She inhaled sharply, then mumbled, "Did you, uhm, know Lindsay O'Brien?"

The name hung in the air.

She had never said his name before.

"Yeah, I'd seen him around from time to time." Hopper turned and leaned against the table, all the guns packed away neatly. His hands clutched the end of the table, a sort of support for what questions might come next from Emilia. She was bound to ask sometime, he figured, about the man who had killed her mother. The very fact that it was a small town and everyone knew everyone else. Hopper remembered the trial, he remembered Emilia was too banged up to go, she was still in the hospital. He remembered that William Roth was drunk, looking dishevelled. No one had said anything about it, but everyone hoped he would leave town, knowing he would be a downhill spiral after that trial.

Lindsay O'Brien had pled guilty on all charges, the guilt forcing his hand. He was a good person, at heart, and he never intended to hurt anyone. He'd accepted his charges, accepted his sentence, and was currently carrying it out one town over where the prison was. His family fell apart, and the O'Brien's weren't spoken of again.

Hopper didn't want that knowledge on Emilia's shoulders.

"What was he like...?"

"Uhm," Hopper rubbed the back of his head, then put his hat on. "Your average guy, not a bad person, Emilia, if that's what you were asking. He drank a lot, but a lot of us are guilty of that."

"I was hoping, I don't know, that I could meet him. Talk to him."

"Are you looking for closure?" Hopper asked, "Kid, I don't think you'll get it that way."

Emilia sighed, then inquired, "I just want to understand, why he left the bar that drunk..."

"He did it all the time."

A cold feeling seeped into Emilia, a shock to her system. Like touching something that was so hot it felt ice cold at first. Her cheeks reddened, a twisted feeling made her want to throw up breakfast. She looked at Hopper, who realized what he had just said.

"Kid..."

"He drove home drunk all the time and he still..." She covered her mouth, taking a few steps back, "He still had a license?!"

"I-"

"How many times did you pull him over for drunk driving, Hopper?!"

"Emilia-"

"How many?!"

"I don't know!" He yelled. "I don't have the power to simply take away licenses, okay? The court system isn't perfect!"

"I can't believe this," she growled, then grabbed her bag and stormed out of the range. She had no idea where she was going or even how to get home from this place, but she wasn't going to sit in the truck with Hopper after what she had learned. If he had done as much as fine him, impound his car, maybe -just maybe- her mother would still be alive. If the law had just been stricter, her mother might still be alive. She knew her anger was unwarranted, and that it wasn't entirely Hopper's fault, but she knew that people who drove drunk around here got a smack on the hand at the worst.

"Emilia, where are you going?" Hopper yelled after her -she was well beyond the truck.

"I'll walk!" She shouted back.

"It's ten miles out of town, Emilia, just get in the truck."

"Go home, Hopper!" Emilia shouted back, not turning to look at him because tears were spilling from her blue eyes, warping her vision. She didn't care how far it was from town, she had walked that distance before. She just needed some time to clear her head, to figure out how she might be able to change the system, and how it failed so many people.

You guys were awesome last post, so many great comments! I cranked out a few chapters, really happy with some upcoming stuff. Involving Billy, and involving Steve!

Question of the day: Do you think Emilia had the right to be upset?