A cry of foul curses went up again, marking his shot even more loudly than the pronounced twang that had initially heralded his arrow's arrival at its destination.
"Kid, I'm not exactly sure how you're doing this, but something tells me you made some kind of deal with some kind of demon. This shit ain't natural."
You got that right.
"Kid? I'm a grown man, and you owe me $50. That's what we're up to, now, right?"
The older man sighed. "Yeah, we're up to $50."
He watched the aged man's eyes run over him, seemingly looking for some explanation as to the events of the last hour.
"And you can double it again if you hit it from further, this time."
Got'cha now, old man.
"I'll take that bet. What's the distance?"
"70 meters."
"No problem."
The young man walked away from the archery target that had been set up for this test, eventually reaching a spot he instinctively knew to be 70 meters. It was the standard of his day, after all. He'd done it countless times.
"If you can hit this one, it's $100."
I heard you the first time.
He went through the motion he'd gone through since he was almost too young to hold a bow. His breath did as it always did, and his muscles seemed to both tense and relax. He let go.
Another twang. More cursing.
"Ok, ok. Look, I'll give you your $100, but you gotta tell me true... how are you making these hits, son? A bulls eye at 70 meters, first try?"
The younger of the two looked at the older, contemplating an answer that wouldn't cause a heart attack or stroke.
"I... made the bow myself, and have practiced with it endlessly. It's simply a matter of practice."
"Bullshit. They're setting up 50 meter targets in St Louis this summer, and they don't even expect Olympic athletes the hit 'em like you have."
Let it go.
"That's my answer, so take it or leave it."
He felt odd in his clothes. The finery of 1902 was ill-suited for archery, or for anything mildly athletic.
Geez, couldn't we have invented track suits a little earlier?
"I guess it doesn't matter, anyways. Here's your money. I'd be more angry, but I just saw a hell of a show. That's a real head-scratcher, son."
"Glad we could do business."
He turned to leave the old man to his life.
"Wait, kid, just hold on!"
He came to a stop near the target and began pulling the arrows free.
"You shoot like nobody I've ever seen. You could take the gold in St Louis! Think about that!"
I have.
"Sorry. Not interested. Thanks for the offer, though."
The look on the old man's face suggested that he might, in fact, have that heart attack the younger man had been trying to avoid.
"I'm serious! You're a shoe-in for 1st place! Those other guys aren't even close to you!"
Yeah, I know.
"Listen to me, old man. I'm. Not. Interested. Thank you for your time, and thank you for your money, but that's all. Goodbye."
Having finished gathering his arrows, he turned to leave the field. It wasn't easy. He knew that the old man was right. He'd be able to take that gold medal so easily...
He walked off the campus into the forest surrounding it. A few minutes into the foliage, he heard the crack of a twig snapping underfoot, and not his own.
"How'd it go? Blow his socks off?"
A thin man, every bit the scientist, his voice nasally to the point of being almost annoying.
"Yeah, doc. Blew his socks off. Looked like he might've dropped dead with every shot."
"Well, he's not due for that for..." he looked at his watch, a silver contraption that served as another outward symbol that he was indeed a science geek.
"36 minutes, I know. I've been counting down the minutes. You tend to do that when you know a person is going to die," sighed the young man.
He looked at his own watch, a tasteful gold implement that wouldn't raise any suspicions as to the year of its origin.
35 minutes, now.
"Ready to go?"
Not really.
"Yeah."
They turned and walked together, falling into step.
"He said I could take gold in the games."
The scientist craned his neck as they walked, thinking about that.
"Yeah, I'm sure you could. You know the rules, though, man."
The young man glanced back at the direction of the archery field, where somewhere there was an old man with only minutes to live. Not enough time to truly spread the news of the feat he'd just witnessed.
Yeah, I know the rules.
"Let's get out of here, doc."
