Chapter 6
Blaze arrived for work dressed in a green muscle shirt because of the day’s warmth. His Wranglers weren’t quite as faded as those he’d worn for the class where he’d met Logan, but he wore the same boots because they were broken in and comfortable. His black leather belt was one of several he’d won in rifle competitions. Its gold-plated buckle with a rifle embossed on it indicated he was an expert sharpshooter and had won first place in the contest.
He had always looked forward to the competitions or requalifying in the navy. You shot at pop-up targets, first prone with your rifle supported, prone without support, kneeling, and standing. In twenty years, his scores hadn’t changed much. A marksman score barely qualified you as a rifleman. Sharpshooter scores were next, and expert
