BIA Ch. 76

“Should I give it to you?”

As he asked, opening the front door, Chester spoke to Manny, who was behind him, instead of answering.

“Don’t come in, go buy us something to eat.”

“Yes? Where should I go… what should I buy?”

Manny asked, looking flustered at the sudden order. Isaiah went inside and explained to Manny.

“When we came in the taxi earlier, there was that big bookstore. The one with the yellow sign.”

“Oh, the one in front of the bus stop?”

“Yeah. Right next to it is a burger place. It’s only a ten-minute walk from here.”

Manny went to buy burgers with a face like he had bitten into a turd, and the two of them went inside.

“How long have you left this place unattended?”

Chester was shocked, looking at the dust piled high on the living room table.

“Well, has it been about a year?”

Isaiah replied nonchalantly, taking off his jacket. He had briefly stopped by three months ago when he went to his adoptive father’s hospital, but even then, he had only grabbed a few clothes. Before that, he had been traveling around for missions.

“Is this black guy, Jacana? Your adoptive father?”

Chester asked, pointing at one of the framed pictures on the living room side table. Isaiah hung his jacket on the coat rack and replied.

“What’s it to you, you white bastard.”

“…Sorry. I misspoke.”

Chester surprisingly admitted his mistake quietly.

“How old were you?”

Only then did Isaiah properly look at the picture Chester was pointing at. It was a picture of himself and his adoptive father standing side by side in front of a beige Humvee^[1], both holding rifles and looking at the camera. Judging by the fact that the rifle was an AX model before it was modified into an AT, it seemed to be from about 7 or 8 years ago.

“Don’t snoop, you fuck.”

He spat out curtly, not wanting to answer, and went to his bedroom.

“It’s not snooping, you brat. I’m trying to get to know you.”

Chester clicked his tongue and followed right after.

“We’ve been on the same team for months. Isn’t it about time we got to know each other?”

“We’re parting ways the day after tomorrow, what nonsense are you talking about?”

The room, where no one had stayed for over a year, had a unique eerie atmosphere, despite being well-organized. The furniture was all expensive and luxurious, but it didn’t feel warm, and it was dark even with the lights on, probably because of the multiple layers of curtains.

Isaiah opened the door to the walk-in closet at the very back of the bedroom. Every compartment of the sturdily built storage units was filled with fishing bags, tennis bags, golf bags, and more.

“You surprisingly have a lot of hobbies… Shit, what is this!”

When Isaiah took out a gun from a rifle case disguised as a fishing bag, Chester screamed in shock.

“Crazy, are these all guns?”

Chester looked somewhat shocked, as if he had finally realized that everything filling this not-so-small space were guns.

“No, you keep guns… like this? Shouldn’t they be hung on the wall in a basement warehouse or something? With deer antlers?”

“Stop watching those stupid movies.”

Isaiah put the rifle he took out of the fishing bag back and opened the zipper of the caddy bag next to it, asking.

“Is the location for the day after tomorrow decided?”

“No, not yet. My father will probably tell me on the day itself.”

“You’re useless.”

“What!”

Chester snapped back, flaring up again.

“Do you even know how hard I tried to change my father’s mind while you were out of your head?”

“So, is Cedric going to hand the organization over to you?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Isaiah pulled out a partially assembled GAP-10G2 rifle from the caddy bag and pointed it threateningly at Chester’s face.

“H-However, I think he’s still thinking about it. Really.”

Chester backed away, making excuses.

“Yeah, he’ll think about it and then name Bran as his successor.”

“Damn it, don’t say such unlucky things!”

Ignoring Chester’s outburst, Isaiah carefully examined the gun in his hand. He pulled the trigger with the magazine empty to check the feel, then pulled it again with the silencer attached to check the change in recoil. After confirming there were no problems, he put it back in the caddy bag. If he didn’t know where the job would be, it was better to take the GAP-10G2 no matter what. There was nothing better for long-range engagement beyond 1100 yards.

Isaiah, who also took two M24s, which had been the US military’s all-rounder before the AX, opened the box containing bullets and said.

“Check the weather in Eloy for the day after tomorrow.”

“Just a moment.”

Chester checked the weather on his smartphone.

“It’s clear. But it looks like there will be some wind in the evening.”

“Tell me the wind speed, even roughly.”

“It says it’ll be 4 m/s from the northeast at 7 PM.”

“Hmm.”

Isaiah fiddled with the bullets in the drawer. The metallic casings clinked against each other in his hand.

Then 11.66g won’t do. But 16.2g is too heavy. No, let’s just use 16.2g and change the barrel of the GAP-10G2 to a 310mm shorter one. Then I can get at least 40 m/s more velocity with that. Or maybe…

The clinking sound stopped. Isaiah’s gaze was fixed on the 8mm magnum bullets, which had been shoved at the very back of the drawer.

Anyway, the M24 could withstand using 200-grain bullets with 4.7g of gunpowder… Of course, the rifling would be worn out after one shot, so I wouldn’t be able to use it twice. If I take it with the intention of using it once and throwing it away… wouldn’t that be okay?

But even after finishing his calculations, Isaiah couldn’t bring himself to pick up the menacing-looking bullets. Magnum was not called magnum for nothing. The recoil was tremendous as the bullets were heavier, and an unskilled person could easily injure not just their wrist but their shoulder as well.

Of course, that wasn’t why Isaiah hesitated. Isaiah had used magnum bullets many times and was used to the recoil. But…

“……”

In the end, Isaiah gave up on the magnum bullets and put a bundle of 308 Winchester bullets into the rifle case. For long-range, he chose 6.5mm PRC bullets.

Even by the time he had chosen three guns, the bullets for each gun, and the scopes, and put them one by one into the case disguised as a caddy bag, Manny hadn’t arrived.

“Why isn’t that guy here yet?”

Chester was getting impatient, probably because he was hungry.

“It’s a place where people wait in line. It’s the busiest time now, so it’ll take some time.”

Isaiah dragged the three cases to the center of the bedroom and then walked to the bed.

“What, are you going to sleep?”

“I’m just going to lie down for a bit.”

Isaiah pulled off the dusty bedspread and lay down on the mattress. He had barely fallen asleep in the early morning, and he had hardly slept because he had to leave for the airport early.

His bed, which he was lying on for the first time in almost a year and a half, wasn’t as comfortable as he thought it would be. Rather, it felt uncomfortable because it was filled with his adoptive father’s touch. It was a space they had created together, but his adoptive father was lonely in the hospital while he was here comfortably. Especially the tapestry hanging on the opposite wall, which was visible when lying on the bed, made him feel uneasy. To be precise, the Bible verse written on it.

His adoptive father seemed to think that he liked the name Isaiah. It must have been because he had said that he wanted to use this name first when they were preparing the adoption papers.

His adoptive father’s name was Joseph, but he didn’t believe in religion and had never been to church in his life. So, he asked him in return.

‘What kind of saint is Isaiah?’

He was someone who couldn’t even distinguish between a prophet and a saint. But it didn’t matter. That wasn’t what was important.

‘Isaiah means Yahweh, it means salvation.’

That meaning was all that mattered. Always.

His adoptive father remembered that and, when they moved into this house, he had personally looked up that verse in the Bible and made the tapestry. And he had hung it in his room as a housewarming gift. In a position that was visible right away when lying on the bed.

It was a little embarrassing, but he didn’t dislike it. Rather, he liked it. Because when he lay down to sleep at night, and when he opened his eyes in the morning, he could naturally think of Bran.

—Isaiah. That’s a good name. Do you know what it means?

When Bran had asked in Mountain Dog, his heart had fluttered for a very brief moment, thinking that maybe he remembered him. But he soon realized it was a futile hope. He remembered that he had said the same thing to the kid who lived next door.

‘Isaiah means Yahweh, it means salvation. I didn’t know it, but Bran told me.’

The young man, revealing his white teeth, said that he had come to like his name even more thanks to Bran. Just like him.

He had been disappointed that it wasn’t something he had said only to him. But that was why he liked it even more. He liked that Bran was that kind of person. Someone who was kind to everyone and who gave unconditional kindness without a second thought. Even the fact that he was an FBI agent who had infiltrated the mafia, not a mafia member, was very Bran-like. That was why he thought it was a relief.

The existence that had given new meaning to his name and life twenty years ago, and had become his salvation, was living on without losing his own unique traits, even if he was a little different from what he had imagined. That was why he was still his salvation, his song, and his strength.

That day, he knew that he could never kill him.