Paint or be painted
by
Jason Watson
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Jason Watson on Smashwords
Copyright © 2010 by Jason Watson
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Paint or be painted
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James
knew it was 'do or die'. The enraged animal was circling around to
gore him. It was either make this shot or be trampled to death by
1000 kilograms of angry bull. He gently slid the safety to the 'off'
position and sighted the menacing animal along the barrel of the gun.
He exhaled and mentally tried to relax as much as possible, his
trigger finger slowly taking up the slack around the small piece of
metal that would send the bullet hurtling towards its hapless victim.
Consciously holding his breath as not to spoil the shot, he
consistently and steadily pulled back the trigger. Spitting forth its
fury the rifle fired; no fan fare, no ceremony, just the cold
certainty that what was once resting in the chamber of the gun was
now unstoppable as it crossed the divide between hunter and hunted;
several times faster than the speed of sound, mere nano-seconds away
from exploding into the beast's heart.
Itching to verify that
the kill-shot had gone to the precise spot he had aimed; out of the
corner of his eye he noticed a large, dark shape charging him at
great speed. "Shit”! He exclaimed at his lapse in situational
awareness, turning to attempt to fend off the surprise attack. He
tried, but there was no point; there was absolutely nothing that he
could do as this animal was his “Achilles heel”. After first
trying to push the German shepherd away, James resigned himself and
instead released his paintball gun, rolled over and wrestled the
agile young dog. Effortlessly slipping out of the boy's flimsy
headlock the alert young canine sprang backwards just out of the
boy’s reach, the dog's wagging tail revealing the lie behind its
mock growl. Enveloped by the warmth of the day, James rolled over on
his back; lying on his favorite beach towel he watched a single
fluffy white cloud drift casually a small distance across the clear
blue sky. Sensing the end of the short-lived play session, Wolf
resignedly walked over and stood next to the boy. James reached up
and gently ruffled the dog's silky ear. Catching a glimpse of his
paintball gun his former "mission" dragged itself back into
James’ memory.
In one deft movement he sprang to his feet, picked up the casually discarded gun and headed down towards his dead prey that had morphed into a 44 gallon drum with a circle drawn on the outside. In the mind of James, the circle represented the spot where the heart of this beast was. Standing next to his prey, there was a bright splotch of fluorescent green in the dead-center of the circle where the paintball had hit the metal drum, its iridescent contents coating the immediate area of the "wound". With a satisfied grin James let his finger gently slide through the bright green "blood". James had read that American Apache Indians would often draw a line on their cheek with the heart-blood of their kill; he did that now too. His kill confirmed, he walked back to his previous “Sniper’s position”. In his mind’s eye he was walking in the same slow-motion he had seen countless movie stars re-create as they walked away from their triumph.
No
sooner had he reached his beach towel, er, firing position, when a
familiar voice called out "JIMMY", he instantly knew it
was his mother, she was the only one who ever called him Jimmy,
everyone else called him Jim or James (although he had recently
decided that "James" sounded more mature and worldly). "I'm
over here Mum". Knowing it was about mid-day he added, "I'll
be in for lunch in a minute". She continued, "Keep Wolfie
over there, I don't want him to stir up dust around my washing".
Wolf had started walking over to where James' mum at the clothes
line. James called to the dog and it came bounding playfully back in
the hopes of another round of wrestling. Realising there was to be no
re-match; the eternally optimistic dog fell in beside the boy, now
walking towards the kitchen.
Watching the boy take his
gumboots off, Wolf headed over to his water bowl.
Inside the
house James said to his mother, "What's for lunch? What time
will Dad get home"? Looking slightly more serious she said,
"Well, first things first, sandwiches and juice for lunch,
secondly your father will be late, he's got to see the site’s
foreman". James' Dad was an architect and often had to stop by a
worksite to sort out an issue. James just nodded, "He knows that
tomorrow is my birthday, eh”? His mother smiled and said, "Yes
Jimmy, we both remember, now go and put that old paintball gun in
your room and wash that green stuff off your face and don’t forget
to wash your hands too, they’re filthy, when you're finished lunch
will be ready"
His bedroom was nothing more than a place to put his stuff, his Mum had this weird idea that cleaning out the thing was fun (especially the wardrobe it seemed) … not in James’ book it wasn’t! On the opposite wall from his bed was a large bookshelf; even though he was only twelve James loved reading and read at a much higher level than his age (a fact his mother often reminded other people of at every available opportunity it seemed). But for James, the “coolest’ thing about this room was that it had windows that went down to the floor. In other words you could walk right outside onto the veranda (although his Dad kept reminding James to shut and lock them, “Anyone could walk in”, he would say).
After quickly closing the valve to the gun’s “pistol grip” that had a hose which fed into the CO2 canister, James casually threw it on the bed, spinning on the spot to go back down the hallway to the bathroom where he could wash his face and hands (experience had taught James that if he showed up at the kitchen table with dirty hands, his mother would just send him back until they were cleaned to her standard so he did a passable job). Returning to the kitchen, he showed his cleaned hands to his mother and sat down for lunch. Since they had all had a bad tummy-bug the year before, his mother had started being a real Nazi about hygiene.
Barely stopping for air he stuffed his sandwiches, one-by-one into his mouth, using the orange juice to speed up the chewing process. Just as he finished he noticed that his mother had been speaking to him. Feeling a little guilty for not listening he murmured, “A-ha”., which had an outcome young James didn’t quite anticipate. Looking up expectantly his mother said, “Great, I’ll just get it ready for you then”. Correctly reading her son’s blank expression she added, “Honestly Jimmy, are your ears just painted on”! “Duh, um, what was that again Mum, what did you want me to do”? Asked the boy, trying to pretend he just misheard her (but fooling no-one). His mother repeated, “I said… (Pausing momentarily to signify her exasperation) Your father forgot his lunch today and he would like you to take it down for him to his office. Noticing the brown paper bag in the center of the table, James said, “No probs, I’ll take Wolf with me”. Picking her ‘battles’, James’ mother had long-ago called a cease-fire over the issue of the Dog’s name; When they first got it they had all agreed on the cute name “Wolfie-lugs”, but over the last year or so James had insisted on calling it “Wolf”. She hadn’t totally given up on the “Wolfie” moniker, but no longer told off James when he called it “Wolf”. Anyway, at the mere mention of its name, any name beginning with “Wolf”, the dog sat at the back door, its paw gently scratching the fly-stop screen.
James got up and ran back to his room; and absolute devastation confronted him. For some reason the hose that went from the gun’s CO2 canister to the gun had come loose and was thrashing around like a wounded snake (James had never seen a wounded snake, but if he had, he bet that’s what it would look like). But that wasn’t the worst part; the worst part was that the gun had a rather large hole in the pistol grip where the hose used to be attached. Disappointment soaking his face, James turned off the gas at the cylinder. He picked up the broken gun and walked, as if carrying a lifeless body of a fallen comrade-in-arms, back out to the kitchen. When he turned the corner, his mother looked down at the obviously broken toy and said, “Oh dear… it’s a good thing it’s your birthday tomorrow”. She always seemed to know just the right thing to say and the vague hint of a new paintball gun cheered James almost immediately. His mother added, “Tell your father about it when you drop off his lunch, then we’ll decide what to do about it this evening”. With all the care of a mother gently placing her sleeping baby in a cot, James placed the “lifeless” gun on the table and headed over to where they kept the dog leash.
Maybe sensing the mood of his “owner” and wanting to cheer him up, maybe just the excitement of hearing the “clink-clink” of the leash, Wolf went into “ballistic” mode. Either-way this amusing little skit also helped to brighten James’ mood somewhat. Kissing James on the forehead (lucky for her no-one was around to witness it) his mother handed him the brown paper-bag. Sitting down on the back porch step, he preformed his well practiced maneuver of fending off the ever-excitable Wolf while he put on his gumboots. Slipping the chain around the dog’s neck, James was pulled to the street where they set off, James half pulled by Wolf and Wolf half led by James.
It was a great summer day, school had ended for the year, he had slept in till 9am and not even the thought of his favorite toy, er… gun, breaking could faze him. As he was walking towards the town center, a brown haired boy called out to him, “Jim, hey Jim… slow down”! He turned to see his best friend, Richard Tui (The Tui is a native New Zealand bird, hence his best friend’s nickname of “Dicky bird”; the kind of double entandre that boys love). James stopped and turned to face the slightly out-of-breath boy. Dicky said, “So, you going into town too”? It was the kind of question that didn’t really need to be answered but all the same James nodded and held up the paper bag, “Got to take the old man his lunch”. Dicky reached down and gave Wolf a pat then fell in beside his friend and they walked on. Carefully hiding his disappointment Dicky said, “Your dad told my dad that he is going to apply for a job down in Wellington”. James looked a little startled so continuing Dicky said, “You didn’t know”? James didn’t but it wouldn’t be the first time they moved. They drifted around the country but always seemed to end up back here in Waihi. “No I didn’t… Oh yeah, my gun broke”. Dicky instantly knew what gun James was referring to, they really enjoyed going “paintballing” so Dicky said, “Oh shit… I’ll lend you my old one”. “Na, it’s all good”, said James trying to sound non-chalante, “I’m pretty sure Mum & Dad are going to buy me a new one for my birthday”. They were in the center of town now and Dicky nodded in the direction of James’ Dad’s office and said, “Well if you ever need to borrow it feel free, anyway, catch ya later”.
James walked over the fairly quiet street, tying Wolf up to a lamp-post directly outside the office, they had been here before, many times, so Wolf knew the “deal’ and lay down on the concrete without so much as a whimper. Going in through the big double doors like he was entering a western saloon, he was greeted by Darlene the secretary and sitting on her desk was Greg; Darlene’s lanky boyfriend, who never seemed to do anything but sit on her desk and flirt with her. “Oh hey little man” he said to James, but James couldn’t be bothered with this distraction today, he just nodded his greetings and continued on into the main office. His father’s desk faced the doorway so he saw James as soon as the boy entered. “Hey Jim, that my lunch”? he said, pointing at the bag, nodding James put the bag on his father’s desk and without a pause burst out with, “Are we moving again”? Looking a little caught-off-guard his father said, “I was going to tell you about it tonight, but yep, we’re off down to Wellington”. James asked, “When”? His Dad look at him frankly and said, “very soon but I need to tie-up some loose ends here first, probably a week”. James nodded, he didn’t mind going down to Wellington, he had heard they had this really awesome paintball arena. Seeing an opportunity to milk it for some sympathy out of his father James said, “My paintball gun broke today” Knowing his son so well (and more than a little relieved that he had taken the news of the shift so well), his father looked down coyly and said, “We’ll see what we see shall we…” (In one of those strange coincidences, his parents had decided to get him a new paintball gun and they had figured he would be keen on trying Wellington’s paintball arena)
Over the dinner table that evening the talk was flowing about the move. His Dad’s business had already found and was going to pay for them to lease a house down in Wellington. Then with out any drama, his father turned to James and said, “For your birthday, tomorrow we’ll go to the sports shop and buy a new paintball gun”. James was barely able to contain his excitement.
The next day in the shop, the salesman showed them to a wall with half a dozen variously coloured paintball guns hung on it. To James there was only one gun; the sign below it said it was a replica of a Heckler-Koch HK G36C assault rifle (apart from the hopper where the paintballs were stored & the CO2 cylinder). It was a work of art, it even had a 1.5X magnification sight. He could see himself proudly walking on the Wellington paintball arena with this gun. The only problem was the price; it was $500.00, $300.00 more than the price of the next gun. James new his father would never go for it, but he wasn’t about to give up! To his surprise, his father’s expression was more open than James thought it would be. What James didn’t know is that his father had been given a really large end-of-year bonus from the business.
His father looked at the price, feigning shock he said, “Phew, that’s far more than the rest”. Then a few seconds he added a little more quietly, “But I think we can do it”.
But James never heard a word after the exasperation at the price; instead he was busy composing an argument in his mind. After settling on what he thought would be his best angle, James began, “If you combine my birthday and Christmas presents, would you consider it”?
Surprised that his son didn’t hear him agree to buy it, his father thought he’d have a bit of fun, so said, “Hm, but $500 is a lot of money”!
So James tried to sweeten the deal and added, “I’ll get a paper or milk run - or something”
Trying hard to keep a serious face his father said, “Ok then, here’s the deal, I’ll buy the gun but you’ll have to pay back $100”. He wasn’t being mean; he just wanted to teach his son the value of money.
James could hardly believe his luck, it was so easy! The salesman took down the paintball gun and handed it to the boy, it was bigger than his other gun but because it was mostly made of fiber-glass and Kevlar, it was about the same weight as it.
The gun came with a CO2 canister and a free hopper full of paintballs. As his father went and paid for the gun, James practiced using it. It was, without a doubt, his best present ever.
James and his father walked home from the sports store; the boy steadfastly cradled the wrapped-up gun. Stopping and turning to his son with a serious look in his eyes; his father said, “Jim there’s one more thing about when we shift down to Wellington. We won’t be able to take Wolf with us. He’ll stay up here with Grand-dad & Nana. When we move back up here, he’ll be here waiting for us.
The revelation was like an explosion in the boy’s mind, they had moved around a lot before and taking Wolf had never been a problem, but he knew that at least his Grandparents loved Wolf almost as much as he did.
Trying hard to be pragmatic and not appear like a little kid, James paused then asked, “For how long “?
With the merest hint of an apology in his eye, his father said, “Probably the school year”.
They had left Wolf with his Grand-parents before but never for longer than a week.
Looking down and with absolutely genuine sadness all James could say was, “That’s a real shame Dad, but I understand”.
They walked the rest of the way home in silence.
When they arrived home, Wolf greeted them at the gate. James glanced awkwardly at his father but knealt down and gave Wolf a big hug. James’ grandparents were there too and when they were all back in the house, James noticed a look between his mother and father; it was pretty obvious that she was asking him if he had told James about Wolf, to which he had nodded his yes.
After James’ favorite dinner (Lamb roast with mint sauce), his mum brought out a banana cake covered with rich dark chocolate icing and chocolate buttons on the icing. Having to sit through an obligatory round of “Happy birthday to you” a few ‘lesser’ gifts were handed to the boy and gratefully, if not hurriedly, opened. One gift from his grandparents was cool, it was a camouflaged jumpsuit and a set of new plastic body-armor and knee & elbow pads (James already had a set of body-armor, but he was a growing lad and it didn’t fit his frame very well anymore but the pads were new). Turning his attention to the gun; it was still light outside and as nice as the dinner and things were, he was jumping out of his skin to try it out. Holding it in his hands, he was amazed at how realistic it looked and it fealt solid like a real gun too (or at least; what he thought a real gun would feel like). After reading the manual from cover to cover (albeit quickly) he discovered that it was modeled on a real military assault rifle in active use by several armies around the world. It’s “coolness factor’ went up off the scale!
He changed his clothes and put on the new body-armor and jumpsuit Donning his paintball face protector & goggles (those little suckers could really sting when they hit), James walked into the lounge, for the benefit of the ‘grown ups’ he modeled his new ensemble. Turning to his mother he said, “mmm mm mm mm mm m mmmm”, realising he still had his mask & goggles on much to the amusement of all those in the room. Snatching them off he repeated; grinning a little sheepishly, ”Mum, is it ok if I ring Dicky and invite him over to try the gun out”? Looking at her watch she said, “Ok, but only if his parents don’t mind him coming out this late”. James knew she was just trying to be polite; they had played “Spotlight” well past this time.
Ten minutes later Dicky stood next to James admiring the new gun. He weighed it in his arms, held it like he was going to shoot it & looked through the sight. Finally he said, “Phew, it’s excellent, I want one too”! James looked like the proverbial cat that had swallowed the cannery. Taking the gun back from his friend he said, “Right, now let’s go see how it shoots”. Without any need for further encouragement, they walked to the “Shooting range”, a spare piece of land which had the 44 gallon drum and a few other targets/obstacles in it. Dicky had his gun too so they decided to play paintball ‘tag’. In their version of the game they would toss a coin, the winner would then go and hide while the loser would close his eyes and count down from one hundred., when he had finished he would turn around and ‘hunt’ the other player then shoot him. Dicky reached 100 then turned around, he scanned the area but couldn’t see anything, he started walking slowly down the field. He thought he saw a glint of light about 100 feet down the field, well outside of the range of his gun, no sooner had he thought that thought when three thuds hit his chest almost simultaneously. Had he not had his grey paintball overalls on he would have had three bright-blue splotches grouped on his sweatshirt. James stood up from another clump of grass (Dicky had just seen the sun glinting off a leaf) and walked over to his “kill”. He was smiling and Dicky looked down at the tightly group impacts. Dicky couldn’t believe it, James had always been a good shot, but he had never been so accurate before from such a distance.
They swapped rolls and James went to the beginning of the course & started his countdown from 100. Once he had completed the countdown he spun around and squatted down. Looking through his gun’s sight he scanned the “arena”, nothing, wait a minute, even though the light was fading he saw a faint movement. He lay down on the ground and kept looking where he had seen the movement. It took him a while to make out but eventually he made out the shape of his friend squatting beside the 44 gallon drum. Keeping his eyes on the “target” he rose to his feet, and not taking his sights from it, he walked slowly down the field. Then he fired a burst and he saw the impact of the blue pellets
The plastic “body armor’ beneath Dicky’s grey overalls stopped the paintball pellets in their tracks and they harmlessly burst on impact, spilling their contents on the innocent grey fabric. But it hadn’t hurt at all which allowed the victim to admire the tight grouping of the paintballs. Walking to James he said “How do you fire so many so quickly and so far”? James smiled knowing he was about to reveal a secret that he had been keeping ever since Dicky had gotten there. “Well I haven’t told you everything my gun can do. With your gun, every time you press the trigger a paintball is fired. With mine, it can fire one each time (semi-automatic) like yours, three at one time (burst mode) or it just keeps firing as long as you hold down the trigger (full automatic mode). This selector here, James pointed to the switch, is where you switch between the three different fire modes. The hopper (the “magazine” where the paintballs go) powered by a battery, which also powers the rest of the features in the gun, ‘feeds’ the paintballs down into the barrel and a high-speed trigger. Then there’s this sight. It’s 1.5X magnification which lets me see you more clearly than you can see me”. Lastly: the reason I can shoot so far is that my barrel is longer than average and the paintballs are just the right size for it; not too tight or not too loose.
Dicky looked down at his gun then back at James and said, “Well give me a go then”. A little reluctantly James agreed but cautioned his friend to be careful not to damage it. They swapped guns and Dicky went to the start of the field and started counting down. James ran in the opposite direction and lay in the long grass behind a tree and waited silently for his “Prey”.
Finishing his countdown, Dicky mimicked how his friend had started and dropped to his knee and used the sight to scan the field, nothing. Sprinting to the first object (a tree stump) he slid to a stop his back resting against it. After catching his breath, he turned and rested the gun on the top of the stump, scanning the field, “Where is that pain in the bum hiding”, he said to himself as he found nothing. He left the shelter of the tree stump and ran over to the 44 gallon drum, crouching below the rusted metal container. Peering around the side of the drum he scanned the field from his new position. To his disappointment, once again he saw nothing. Spotting a clump of bushes, he decided that’s where Jim must be hiding. Sneaking around wide he started to “flank” the bushes. But he needn’t have bothered because what he was looking for wasn’t there. James was actually about twenty feet away in the long grass, patiently waiting for his “prey” to come within range.
With his back turned to James, Dicky continued his flanking maneuver on the bushes. Dicky fealt the impact of the paintballs on his back, once more the plastic of his body armor absorbing most of the impact
James stood up; his mask hid the huge grin on his face
Dicky sighed, “I even had the new gun, when did you get so good”? James smiled at the compliment, removing his mask he said, “I got a book out from the mobile library”. The mobile library was a big bus that came around once a week. It was set up with shelves and boxes full of books. James really enjoyed it. He continued, “I’ve been reading it for a week or so, it has lots of great tips”.
By now the light was really low and although part of him was keen on playing, the other part of him was a bit tired, it had been a pretty busy day and he wanted to relax a bit, so he said to Dicky, “Come inside to my room, I’ll show you the book”. They went into the house and true to his word James showed Dicky the book adding, “You should get it out after me”. Agreeing, his friend sat down on the bed and flicked through the pages. James thought about it for a few seconds then decided that now was the best time to tell Dicky about his family’s imminent move down to Wellington and that they would be gone for a year.
After James told him the news, the first words out of Dicky’s mouth were, “You’ll be able to play at the Wellington paintball arena”. Although James knew that too he hadn’t spent much time thinking about it, but now he did, the thought of it cheered him up considerably.
Then he told his friend that they wouldn’t be taking Wolf and that he would be staying up here with Grandad and Nana. Seeming to read his mind Dicky chirped up, “Oh Ok, but at least I’ll be able to take him for walks for you. I know your grandparents are kind-of old, don’t worry about that”.
The day of the move came around quickly enough; James had been both dreading and looking forward to it. His grandparents were there to see them off and Wolf was sitting beside them (James could tell he knew something was happening that didn’t include him). His mother had gone down the day before in the large furniture truck that his dad’s firm had hired. No-one in the family was big on long goodbyes, so with the handshake through the window, the car drove off. A second later it stopped again and James got out and ran over to Wolf and gave him a big hug. James then got up and ran back to the car, yelling out his goodbyes to his Grandparents.
The four hour drive down to their new house wasn’t too bad either, it was a hot day but the car had air conditioning and they made several stops to get fuel, food and drinks or go to the toilet. When they were close to the new house, his father pulled over and called his mum, the spot they were in was a bit bad for cell-phone reception, so after a lot of shouting and repeating they eventually passed along the message that they would be home soon and to put the kettle on.
When they finally arrived, James’ Mum greeted them in the driveway. He hadn’t known what to expect but the house was quite a bit bigger than their old one and it was two stories. They went into the kitchen where his mum had three hot drinks and a plate of biscuits waiting for them. She looked at James and said, “After we’ve finished these I’ll take you up stairs and show you your new room, I’ve unpacked most of your things but there’s still a few boxes for you to unpack; you’ve got a lot more wardrobe space than the other house”, to this revelation he mentally rolled his eyes!
James lowered his eyes to his drink, the hot chocolate beckoned enticingly, but his mind was more drawn to the new adventure that waited for him up the stairs. He knew that his mother wouldn’t take him to it until he had drunk his drink and eaten at least one biscuit. Fortunately his father stepped in and said, “We had plenty of food and drink on the way down here, I bet Jim’s beside himself to see his new room, put him out of his misery dear”. Rolling her eyes, James’ mother said, “Ok James, this way”, and pointed to a doorway behind him. He didn’t need to be told twice and he was bounding up the stairs when he heard his mother say, “Slow down, this isn’t a race you know”. But James could tell from the tone of her voice that she wasn’t really angry. All the same, James dropped from a sprint down to a fast walk. At the top of the stairs there was only one way to go, so he proceed down the hallway. His was the first door on the left; he knew it was his because he could recognize most of his stuff. True to her word, his mother had unpacked nearly everything, with just three or four boxes stacked neatly beside his bed. The most striking feature of the room to James was the way the ceiling slanted down towards the outside wall, with a small alcove built into it with a single round window; he fealt almost drawn to it. Before he could have a good look out the window, his mum finally entered the room and said, “Well, what do you think”? Straight away and without having to think about it he said, “It’s excellent”. Looking pleased with herself (the company had paid for it but she found it listed on the Internet), she went on, “the bathroom is just down the hall, but I’ll leave you so you can unpack now. Once his mother had left, James threw himself on his bed and gazed up at the ceiling. It fealt a little strange, here he was laying on his old familiar bed but in a new room, weird! Then he had a thought, he sat up, placing the first of the boxes beside him on the bed. He opened it up and was greeted with the thing he was looking for, his gun, the jumpsuit and the armor, cool. His mind wandered to the paintball arena. He picked it up and carried it over to the window, sitting on the bench seat. Looking down he could the backyard of the house and just beside it was an alleyway. The only thing between the alleyway and the backyard was a small, knee height, hedge-row. He saw his father outside too, looking at the same thing he was looking at. Placing the gun on the other side of the bench seat; he got up and went outside to see what his father was doing. Distractedly, his father glanced at James and said, “Hi son, I was just looking at this hedge and the alleyway. It’s not too good is it? We need to build a fence I think”. James said, yeah, I saw it from my room; it looks even smaller up there.
His father sighed, “Well nothing else to do really, I guess we’re going to have to put a fence up.
Then he paused for a moment, obviously deep in though and added, “How would you like to pick one, then we can build it. You design it, I’ll draw it up, it’ll be our summer project”. James had been around building sites for most of his life and he had a pretty good eye for construction, so he said, “Cool, when do we get started”? “Right away”, his father said, adding, “You can research it on the ‘net, we’re all hooked up here already”. James thought about it for a minute then remembered a question that builders always asked, “What kind of budget are we looking at”? James’ father was so impressed that his young son had thought to ask such a mature question that half of him wanted to run inside and tell his wife. But remaining in control he looked at his, to his mind, genius son and replied, “Well, nothing too flash, standard pine, six feet high, concrete foundations, treated wood of course. But it has to be done fairly quickly, I have two weeks off from work and I want to get it done before I start back”. James thought for a moment then said, “No probs, I’ll have the design for you to draw up before the end of the day”.
True to his word, that evening over dinner James handed his father a print-out of the fence. It was quite impressive; it had the length, the amount of materials, a rough estimate of the costs and even the shop where they could buy it. His father looked down at it and said, “Very impressive Jim, I’ll hardly have to do anything”, which was exactly what James wanted to hear. “Ok, we’ll go down and pick up the materials tomorrow”. What his father didn’t tell his young son was that he had already measured up where the fence would go and calculated all the materials needed, a few of his sons calculations were a little ‘out’ but on the whole they were close to ‘spot-on’. Rather than wanting to sound negative he said, “There’s a guy coming in tomorrow to take out that existing hedge-row, he’s going to have back hoe, he’ll also help us lay the foundations”. James, who loved machinery said, “Oh Cool”.
Now the ‘shop talk’ was out of the way they settled down for dinner. Unseen by James, his mother and father exchanged a warm glance. They had planned the whole thing well before they had left Waihi to distract their son from the move, but more importantly a year without Wolfie.
James could hardly get to sleep and when he finally did, he woke just as dawn broke. He lay in bed and watched the way the light played over his ceiling of his new room.
He decided to get up and he went over to the window and sat on the bench seat. Even though it was only early morning, there was enough light for James to make out the shapes of two people standing under a tree in the alley-way. Every now and then he saw the orange glow as they puffed on their cigarettes. Watching them for a few minutes, he saw them flick their finished cigarettes on the ground. The light was growing stronger and James could see that they were wearing black ‘hoodies’. They walked off down the alleyway, away from the house and got into a blue Subaru Imprezza (They were a popular and distinctive car, there were quite a few of them in Waihi).
James heard the toilet flushing, looking out the door he saw his father padding down the hallway to their new room. Wanting to let his parents know that he was awake, James poked his head around the doorway and called out, “Morning Dad”. His father turned, half yawning and rubbing the morning stubble on his chin he said, “Morning Jim”, then sleepily added, “Ready for your big day”? Pleased that his father thought it was important too, James said, “Looking forward to it, what time are we going”? Not having his watch on his father replied, “Well I need to have a shower and shave then some breakfast, but we should be there just as the yard opens. The guy with the back-hoe is getting here at 10am”. Wearing a dressing gown, his mother came out of their room, walking past her husband she said, “Morning Jimmy, did you sleep well in the new room”? “Yip, fine”, he said flippantly. “Put your dressing gown on and come down, I’ll make you a cup of drinking chocolate”, she said as she went past James. Not needing to be told twice, James ducked into his room to get the dressing gown, not such an easytask in a strange new room. Walking down the stairs, his mother called out, “It’s in your wardrobe”. A minute or so later he came out the room wearing his navy blue dressing gown, he trotted down the hallway and down the stairs into the kitchen, making his way over to the kitchen table and sat down. Without looking up his mother said, “Well, you have a busy day to day, better have a good breakfast”. She got no argument from James, it was going to take a while until his father was ready, so why not kill a bit of time by having a big breakfast? A few minutes later his mother brought over the mug of hot chocolate and James got up and walked over to the cupboards to get a bowl and spoon. When he turned around his mother had put his favorite cereal on the table. “A bowl of cornflakes with some sugar sprinkled on the top – yum”! He thought. By the time his father arrived at the table, James was busy making his way through his third piece of blackberry jam on toast. Finishing his piece of toast, James dashed back up stairs to have a shower while his father had some breakfast.
After what was quite possibly the quickest shower he had ever had, James got changed and headed back down to the kitchen. Noticing an untouched plate of bacon and eggs beside his father who was reading the paper, James very audibly sighed, looking down from his paper his father said, :Is something wrong Jim”? The boy just tapped his wrist and his father said, “Oh right, the fence”. He grinned like a Cheshire cat and said, “Just teasing, this is your mother’s breakfast; I’ve already had mine”. Rolling his eyes in mock disdain (familiar with his Dad’s practical jokes), James smiled. Getting up from the table, his father picked up the car keys and gave his wife a peck on the cheek. Turning to his son he smiled and said (still amused by his little prank), “I suppose you want to drive too”? James didn’t say anything; but smiling too; he poked his tongue out.
The building supply yard was a huge place with rows and rows of various building materials. First they needed some concrete and reinforcing wire for the foundations. Next they needed some sturdy wooden posts, then the wood for the fence itself, along with plenty of nails.
They got back to the house at 11am, just as the workman was digging out the last section of the hedge-row. James noticed that he had also brought with him a well-used looking cement-mixer and a post digger with its long helical screw.
The machine made short work of clearing the hedge and the workman, obviously quite skilled at using it started digging out where the roots had been to lay the new foundation. Once the digging was finished, using the post digger, he dug the deep holes for the fence posts
Placing the posts in the holes he used supports to keep them standing exactly straight. First he nailed the support to the post, then nailed the other end of the support to a stake hammered into the ground, then he got to work mixing concrete to pout into the post holes. A few hours later the concrete had dried enough to begin laying the rest of the foundations. Placing the wide steel mesh into the trench he had dug, he began filling it with the concrete mixture. James was amazed at how quickly it was all going.
The workman finished up and said, “Give it 24 hours to set properly then start on the rest of the fence”. His father helped guide the workman to put the back hoe on the truck and to hook-up the concrete mixer (it was on wheels, it just needed a tow-bar). After a brief chat they shook hands and the workman drove off.
Well that was that, all they had to do now was wait for the wood to be dropped of tomorrow at 9am.
Every half hour or so James would jog out to check ‘his’ foundations, delicately checking the surface of the concrete to see how well it had set. By about 5pm it was rock hard, but his father reminded him that it was too late in the afternoon to start construction on the fence, “Best to leave it overnight, it’ll set even more too”, he added.
Again James laid in bed, not being able to get asleep, but eventually his lack of sleep from the night before caught up and he feel into a pretty deep sleep. He woke a bit later, dawn had just broken and he looked at the pattern of light on the ceiling (at first he was ambivalent, but now he decided he liked it).
His mind coming into focus, he jumped out of bed and ran over to the window. He looked down at the long concrete snake. Now that the concrete foundations were set, they could start building his fence.
He put on his work clothes (an overall his father bought him especially for today) and ran down the stairs into the kitchen. His parents were down there and sensing his impatience to get outside his mother said, “Slow down Bob-the-builder, before you get started I want you to have a good breakfast”. But James was just itching to get outside and said he’d just like a cup of hot chocolate for breakfast. Ignoring her stern glance, he turned, pleadingly, to his father. But his father sided with his wife (big surprise thought James), looking up from his own breakfast he said, “Sit down James, you’ll need a lot more in you than just a cup of hot chocolate”. Frustrated by his father’s logic (and the rumbles in his stomach) the boy slumped, resignedly, into a chair.
As they were just about finished with breakfast, they heard the “Beep Beep Beep…” of a truck reversing down the driveway.
That was it, nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stop him from abandoning the remains of his breakfast (most of it was gone anyway) and going outside now.
Talking to the driver of the truck, James’ Father directed him over to a tarpaulin staked-out on the ground close to the foundations. The truck had a small hydraulic crane attached to it and after about 30 minutes the driver had all the wood neatly stacked on the tarp’. After his father had signed the receipt form, the driver shook hands with both “workmen” then he got into the truck’s cab and drove carefully along the driveway out onto the road.
His father looked at the pile of wood and after a brief pause said, “Well Jim, you know that $100 for the paintball gun”? After reflecting for a moment James said,”Oh yeah, I remember, I almost forgot”! His father continued,”Well build this fence with me and we’ll call it even and you won’t have to pay it back”. James was delighted; he had anticipated helping his father to build the fence anyway, this was just the Icing-on-the-cake that made the deal even sweeter. Not letting on his true feelings, he simply said, “Ok then”.
It took 2 full days, but finally the fence was finished, to James’ mind he had never seen something so beautiful. It was exactly how it looked in the photograph he had seen on the ‘Net! His father was as pleased-as-punch too, even if he had planned it himself, he had given his son a task and the boy had stuck with it through to completion!
At the kitchen table over afternoon tea (a few biscuits and a mug of hot chocolate), discussion once again shifted back onto the topic of the fence. James’ mother said, “It’s a great looking fence, tell me, are you going to leave the wood plain or are you going to paint or stain it a different colour”? Until that point James hadn’t thought about changing the colour of the fence, so he said, “Dunno, hadn’t thought about it, um, stain it I guess”. Then he turned to his father and said, “Can you take me to the hardware store so we can buy some stain”? “Ok”, said his father, “I just need to do some stuff upstairs, then we’ll go”.
An hour later they were back at home standing in front of the fence, in their overalls. His father said, “Ok James, you paint this side, I’ll paint around the other side”, after a brief pause he added, “Don’t forget to put down the drop-sheet on the ground to catch any drips of stain”. With that he took a paint brush, a can of stain and headed around to the alleyway. Carefully placing the drop-sheet over the concrete, James began painting the fence. It really wasn’t that difficult and two after their discussion around the kitchen table, the whole fence, both sides, was drying out in the late morning sun. James was incredible proud of his achievement and from the beaming expressions on his parent’s faces, they were too.
Back inside the house, his mother said that as a reward, they’d go and see a movie tomorrow. There was only one that James wanted to see, it was a new digital 3D “spectacular” called “Chilli-dogs”, it was an animated feature about a dog team in the Artic. His mother didn’t really want to take him to a movie that would remind him of Wolfie, but a deal was a deal.
The next day was as beautiful as summer always brings. James slept; the work yesterday did tire him out a little.
There was a big Mall in Wellington that seemed to have more shops in it than every shop in Waihi, Plus a cinema complex with ten different cinemas in it. One of the posters was for a movie called “Kill or be killed 2” which was about a US Army Marine Corp sniper unit. Because of the book he’d gotten out of the mobile library, he really wanted to go to that movie. He tried to talk his mother into taking him to that one, but she said, “No, sorry son, you have to be at least sixteen to see that movie.
Just then the movie got out and he saw a group of older boys walking out chatting excitedly about the movie.
He wasn’t really very interested in “Chilli-Dogs” now but he sat through it, even managing to enjoy parts of it.
In the car on the way home his mother said, “I could tell you didn’t really enjoy that, so maybe this will cheer you up”. She handed him a brochure all about the Wellington paintball Arena. She was, as usual, spot-on because it did cheer James up a lot. Then she added, it’s a good thing I bought all your paintball gear with us, look where we are”. The car was turning into the Arenas’ carparking area.
This was so cool James could barely speak, but his mother correctly interpreted the half-squeak half “urgg” sound as being the excitement her son was feeling.
The arena was huge, James quickly found out that it was actually two arenas, one for ‘Speedball” one for “Woodsball”. Speedball was large field with objects in it to provide shelter, while “Woodsball” was an actual wooded area. There were several different variants of the game, but the most common one was “capture the flag”, where the team had to, obviously, capture the other team’s flag.
There were lots of other boys there but before they could play their first game the staff instructed them on the rules, there was the usual safety stuff which made sense. Then they selected teams at random. Then the teams decided who would be in what position, James was the first boy to be asked what position he wanted to play, “Sniper”, he replied without thinking, two other boys moaned at “their” position being picked. Waving to his Mum, the teams were led out onto the Woodsball arena. One referee took a team to their “base”, the other referee took the other team to their base. The referee quickly went to each boy and described their role. When the ref got to James he said, “As a sniper I recommend you hide in the bushes, with your camo gear you’ll blend right in. If you have to move make it low and slow, when you make a shot, it’s best to move to a different spot”. With that, he blew his whistle and waited to hear the other refs whistle blast. Once he heard it, he motioned to the boys to begin and James first, proper, game of paintball began.
James ran to a clump of bushes and lying down, crawled between them. Having read the book on Sniper’s, he knew he just had to wait until his enemy strayed into his target path. He didn’t have to wait long. After about two minutes’ one of the enemy soldiers came creeping along. Seeing the enemy’s flag he started to run towards it.
It wasn’t really a hard shot for James and the “enemy soldier” fealt the impact of the three paintballs. Looking around for the shooter, James had to resist the temptation to stand up and reveal his location, he didn’t know if there were others watching. The referee ran up to the boy and told him to point his marker up to the sky and to leave the field.
James slowly crawled to a nearby set of bushes, again waiting for another enemy soldier to stroll onto “his field”. Scanning the scene, James eventually picked out the shape of an enemy soldier kneeling beside a small tree, directly opposite his hidden position. James decided to have a bit of fun; the book had said that the best snipers take one shot at the head only. Slowly moving his hand to the fire selector switch he changed his “rate-of-fire” to one shot only. Carefully aiming for the soldier’s goggles, controlling his breath as the book had said, he fired, watching through the sight as the bright blue splotch appeared on the transparent plastic directly in front of his opponent’s eye.
One by one the opponents came past his locations and one by one he shot them, never once being spotted. It was a lot of fun for him, less so for them, he was sure, but he had a fantastic time.
After the game the referee came up to him and said, “Nice shooting. Once a week my team trains here for a monthly tournament, here’s my card, check out our website, drop us an email”.
In the car on the way home James was jabbering away excitably. He couldn’t describe how much fun he had had and his success made it even sweeter. His mother was so glad that her son was happy, even though he had put up a brave face she could tell that he was missing Wolfie.
When they got home, James father came out to the car and James told him, in minute detail, how the day had gone and how the paintball match went (blow by blow).
That evening, over the dinner his father said to James, “The All Blacks are playing England tonight, but it’s not on till 1am, want to stay up with your old man and watch it”?
James and his father had this little ritual of staying up late to watch the Rugby matches live (if they were on late). More often than not he fell asleep but his father always made sure he got to bed after the game.
With a bowl of chippies and a cup of drinking chocolate, both “men” settled in at the start of the game. True to form, by half time James was fast asleep on the couch. After the match (England won by 1 try – 5 points) James’ dad picked-up his sleeping son and carried him carefully up the stairs into his room. After tucking the boy in, he was walking out of the room, past the window, when he spotted a small orange glow down in the alleyway. Walking over to the window he peered down. After his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the scene, he made out to shapes, standing close to the alleyway side of the new fence. Having seen spray-paint on other fences near their home, he was weary that these two shapes might be “Taggers” “Tagging” on the new canvas they had found.
Anger coursed through his veins and seeing his son’s paintball gun he grinned at the poetic irony; picking up the “Marker”. Checking to see that it was all loaded and everything was connected he headed out of the room, changing it to “burst mode” (his son wasn’t the only one who could read a manual).
Sneaking downstairs and out the front door, he quietly crept around to the alleyway and saw the Taggers in action. Keeping to the shadows, he crept slowly towards them, when he was about twenty feet away he briefly watched as they sprayed their “Tags”. Having more than enough evidence of their vandalism he took aim at the back of the nearest youth and fired a burst of paintballs at him, watching as each one found its target on the back of the youths white hoodie. With a yelp of surprise the former tagging youth looked around like a startled rabbit, seeing the “Gun wielding” man appear from the shadows, the tagger took to his heels running down the alleyway like an Olympic champion. Seeing his mate run of down the alleyway, the second youth didn’t wait to look for the reason, he just turned and started to run. Sadly for this youth, a paintball fired by CO2 gas travels at a tad over a hundred and seventy miles per hour, so mere seconds after he had turned, three bright blue splotches appeared on the back of his red hoodie. Giving chase, James’ dad (in pretty good physical shape at only thirty five years old) sprinted down the alleyway after the youths heading for their car. His father made it to the end of the alleyway just as the car started moving. The alleyway came out into a cul-de-sac, so in order to drive away, they first had to circle around the cul-de-sac. Switching the gun to full automatic, James’ dad took aim at the noisy vehicle, at least forty paintballs peppered both sides and rear of the car as it turned around the curved road, roaring onto the main street but not before hitting a letterbox on the way out of the cul-de-sac. (it seems his Dad had the “sniper gene” too)
After sighing with at least a little satisfaction, James’ father turned around and walked back down towards their fence. Using the light of his cellular telephone, he could easily see the ugly black spray-paint on the nice new wood of the fence. At that moment James, digital camcorder in-hand, came running down the alleyway in his dressing gown grinning and said, “I filmed the whole thing from my room. By way of an explanation he added, “I woke just after you put me to bed and then when heard the front door opening then quietly closing I got up. I saw you at the beginning of the alley-way, saw the other two, saw my gun missing and put two and two together, I know I’m supposed to ask first, but I was playing around with the video camera (I filmed the new fence). Anyway, I filmed the whole thing, in night-vision mode too, so I didn’t miss a thing.
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