Against the Grain

by Ian Daniels

  Everyone unloaded their guns and now gathered around to form a little circle to hear my final thoughts.

  “This is shooting. There is a difference between shooting and fighting. There is even a difference between fighting and killing,” I began.

  “How so?” Andrew asked, speaking for the group.

  “You’ve got to have the mindset to be able to put the sights of your gun on another human being and pull the trigger, knowing full well what the outcome of that action will be. There is no hesitation, there is no second guessing. You need to be grounded in your resolve that you can kill when it is necessary.”

  And how do you teach the will to kill? In most regards it was an unnatural thing for good people to try to kill other people. Even when provoked and with good reason, some people just were not wired to trip the switch and take another’s life. Somehow I had to figure out how to teach it.

  “Like Full Metal Jacket?” Jake supplied.

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “The movie, Full Metal Jacket…”

  “Never saw it.”

  “You never saw it! Well it went something like ‘It’s your killer instinct that will make you survive, your gun is only a tool,’ or something like that,” Jake quoted.

  “Well yeah that’s fairly accurate but honestly, right now, I want everybody to forget everything they ever saw or heard in any movie. All quotes, all jumpy twirlly things, generally all things gun related, forget it all. If you have to shoot, you only do stuff that you have done before, you don’t try something you saw in a movie once. On the other hand, while you do need to be capable with your gun, it doesn't much matter what weapon you have, its all about resolve, intention, and mindset.” I was trying to stay out of falling into lecture mode again but it was easy to do with so many listening that were unfamiliar with the subject matter.

  “And um, do you feel bad about it afterwards?”

  The question came from Andrew, the youngest of all of us up here.

  I looked at Breanne briefly to see if she wanted to add anything to the discussion as she was the most recent one to be going through those first time emotions. I still hadn’t talked to her about it and she hadn’t sought me out, and even now her face was impassive and didn’t show her feelings on the subject one way or another.

  “Not if they deserved it,” I answered bluntly.

  “…playing God,” was all of Paul’s whisper that I caught, and I was ready to do just that with him as the victim, but at the last second I decided on a different tactic to illustrate my point.

  “Everyone is going to go through their own thing afterwards. You can talk to each other about it if it ever comes up, but my job right now is to get you prepared for what happens before all that guilt and doubt comes up that you think you’re supposed to feel. Now who here has been in a fight… punched or been punched?” I asked everyone, but my frank talk and hard core demeanor had scarred everyone from willingly speaking up.

  “David, do you have any old boxing gear laying around?” I asked.

  “Sorry no, why?” he responded.

  “No problem, we’ll go old school,” I pressed on. “Drew, would you please punch Jake in the face as hard as you can?”

  “What? No way!” They both exclaimed at nearly the same time.

  “You don’t like that one? Well then let’s do it Israeli style… Jake, your job is to get to the house; our job is to stop you, no holds barred. Ready?”

  “What the hell man?” Jake said, looking like he was already injured.

  “Look, you guys can shoot, but you need to learn to fight. To teach you to fight I have to get you over the fear of causing physical harm to someone or having someone hurt you,” I explained.

  “Well why doesn’t everybody just punch you instead then?” Paul smirked in an attempt at humor and finding a way of fitting in. He was on my last nerve and we were going to have a very serious conversation, very soon.

  “Because I don’t get in fist fights, but if you keep running your mouth, we might just try that out.” I warned him. “If someone wants to get in a fight with me do you know what I do?” I turned to address the group as a whole, so as to not get sucked in to a one on one debate or dispute with him.

  “Back down?” Paul supplied seriously, displaying his own issues and still not grasping the point that I was getting at.

  “Pffft no,” I dismissed, “it’s simple, I shoot them in the face.”

  “Really? Over something stupid, if someone takes a swing at you, you just murder them right there?” He was too shocked to see my embellishment for what it was.

  “Yup absolutely. In this day and age, even before all this,” I said spinning around with my hands outstretched, “I don’t know who was an amateur boxer or MMA wannabe… or who has a knife, or if they have buddies ready to jump in… how long would you last against that? Ladies, if some guy my size comes up to hurt you, do you try to talk to them or even try to use your fists to stop him?”

  “Hell no, you shoot him in the face.” Megan’s voice answered from behind me.

  Surprised, I turned to look over my shoulder. I was afraid I might see some displeasure in her face at using an example so close to home for her, so to speak, but there was no animosity evident.

  Megan was wearing a simple pair of jeans with a gray tee shirt and blue zip up sweatshirt over top… and she made it look good. The rest and consistent meals here, as compared to what she was getting while out on the road for so long, had gone a long way in her health. Her natural complexion looked healthier and the slight thinning of her cheeks and eyes had recovered and were now back to showing the benefit a proper diet. Her hair was pulled back and the pale white skin of her neck was alluring all on its own. Combined with the still thin but classic shape of her feminine physique, even in jeans and a sweatshirt she was looking great. There was something else in the way she walked and talked that stood out though; she was happy.

  “And what if you don’t have a gun?” Nick offered, sensing my attention shift and coming to my rescue.

  “Well that is fighting up close, and you don’t want to fight up close,” I paused the lesson as Megan told us that Sue had sent her up to tell us that dinner would be ready “whenever we were all done screwing around and making so much noise,” as she had put it.

  “But shouldn’t we at least have an idea of what to do?” Andrew asked, returning us to the conversation. He was right of course, but I was really hesitant to get into much more than just a few steps past the basics until they were ready… and they were not ready yet. I didn’t think that any of us, myself included, really were going to find ourselves in a situation where fighting up close was going to be an issue anymore. Then again I had underestimated things before, which is why we were out here in the first place.

  I drummed my fingers for a second, thinking on the situation and sizing them all up at the same time. I was also trying to figure out if I wanted Megan to witness this or not, and finally decided it would benefit her as well as everyone else. “Megan… why don’t you stick around for this and then we’ll all go get some food together.”

  Then, turning back to the group, “Here’s the deal, close up fights are a soulless, motherless, godless bitch. There are no rules. There is no fighting fair; you cheat or you lose… and then die. It is fast, messy, brutal and merciless. Think real good about that for a second," I paused, letting the words sink in and looking at each person standing here, then finally back to Andrew. “You still want to learn something about it?"

  "Yeah, let’s do it," he said in pitiable ignorance.

  "Okay," I shook my head slightly, "it’s you and me. I’m going to tell you up front for safety’s sake what I am going to do. I am going to push you, piss you off, confuse and frustrate you… and it is going to be controlled. This needs to be done safely. We are getting into some real dangerous territory here, so you need to be in control too. Don’t lash out and don’t be unsafe or I will defend myself, but also keep up and don’t be ti
mid, you’ll learn more if you really go for it, got it?"

  "Yeah I got it," he confirmed, only this time sounding a little less sure of himself.

  "And I want no one else to help or offer any assistance in any way," I raised my voice and made eye contact with both Nick and Jake to make sure that everyone understood.

  "Grab your 930 and bring it to me," I directed Andrew.

  I took the Mossberg shotgun and turning my back, unloaded it until just two rounds were left, one in the chamber, and one in the tube magazine. I clicked the safety on and handed it back to him. "Now put it on the deck please."

  "What?" He asked suspiciously, thinking I was trying to trap him in a word game or play a trick on him already, which I kind of was.

  "Lay your gun in the dirt."

  He put it down at his feet.

  "…and take a couple steps away," I again directed.

  He made it three steps and hadn’t looked up again before I had closed the distance. All it took was a quick and light push and he was off balance.

  "You have a group of people attacking you. You have three guys right there, " I pointed to the target stands, “and me. What do you do?"

  "I..." he started to answer but I slid around and pushed him from the side this time to keep him off balance.

  “Too late, the one you didn’t see is on top of you, what do you do now?”

  I was throwing the questions at him as rapidly as they could come out of my mouth. Talking fast and shoving, grabbing, pulling… I was taking this at a relatively low level to illustrate a point, and to do so, my method was more to pester and confuse rather than just plain beat on him.

  Andrew was on his heels, unsure of what to do with his hands and was getting frustrated as I interrupted his attempts to answer by changing the scenario. Finally he used his hand to block away one of my reaches and with my other hand, I connected an open palmed hit to the side of his head, simultaneously stepping behind him and using my forearm to push him backwards, causing him to trip over my leg. His butt hit the dirt and I saw the snap happen in his eyes… he was there.

  "Three targets, get to your gun and kill them, now!" I stepped back and yelled, directing him towards the Mossberg shotgun lying on the ground.

  It took a couple seconds for him to switch gears, but I didn’t have to say it twice. Next came the part that could completely make or break the lesson.

  He scooped up the shotgun with me moving right along his back, shadowing his movements in case I had to direct his muzzle and keep it pointed in a safe direction, all the while encouraging the next steps. "Smooth shots, stop on each," he was off balance but still had his feet under him. "Go with it!" I directed as he continued to falter but kept the muzzle pointed at the targets.

  As soon as he slid to a stop the shotgun barked once, then twice and then click. Dust was swirling from the shots, but everyone and everything was quiet.

  "One left, shoot all the targets!" I yelled in his ear.

  "I’m out!"

  "Kill all the targets! Do it now!" I pressed.

  "My gun's dry!" he yelled back out of frustration.

  "Kill the last guy!"

  "With what?" He yelled again, looking bewildered to the others.

  Nick began to move but I held up my hand and shook my head, baring anyone from offering assistance.

  "He just shot me, he's lining up on Nick, kill that guy now!" I told him again… but it was over. He stood defeated and indignant as the dust settled around him.

  "Nick, your gun is dry, what do you do?" I asked, keeping the group engaged and an active part of the lesson.

  "Take someone else's gun," Nick answered.

  "No gun sitting around, what now?" I posed.

  "Knife?"

  "You have a knife on your gear that you know how to use?" I countered.

  "Well then what do you do?” Andrew yelled at me, his chest rising and falling heavily as he regained his breath and composure.

  I drew my pistol, dropped the magazine and cleared the chamber. Then locking the slide back I tossed it to Jake’s feet where he picked it up, looking puzzled.

  "Jake, your gun is empty. Kill the last target please," I encouraged him.

  Jake turned and sprinted to the last target and used the empty pistol to hit and slash at the cardboard until he had punched out the bull’s eye hole that the bullets had started.

  "Your gun is not your only tool; it’s just usually your best tool… but you are the weapon. Your gun is dry? You shove the empty mags down the guy’s throat and stomp his head until your boots are a different color. That is fighting up close,” I finished and extended a hand to Andrew as a peace offering. “It is mostly all mindset, the willingness to do what it takes to win. You don’t give up, you don’t take a time out. You go full throttle until you win… or you’ll lose."

  “Mindset,” he repeated solemnly.

  “Yep, tactics can be taught and I can give you tools like guns and knives, but until the mindset is established to win a fight, nothing else matters.”

  We all now had plenty to think about and it was as good a time as any to wrap up for the day.

  Chapter 10

  Even after contacting Nick over the radio and giving him a heads up on what to expect, he seemed surprised when the suburban pulled past the front gate and up to the house.

  It was late in the afternoon and I was riding in the passenger seat, giving directions on where to park to an old, long lost friend from years ago. Although he was three years older than I was and I hadn’t seen him in just as many years, Derek Meehan and I had known each other for a long time. We had met in a class when we got teamed up together for a project and ended up playing on the same team of an after hours basketball league. It wasn’t until we ran into each other again in a beer garden at a rodeo in a little town fifty miles from here that we really became friends though. Funny how that type of thing works out.

  Derek and I had gone fishing and hunting together a few times, and I knew his family well, including his parents and two younger sisters. After a quick stint in the Air Force, he finally found his calling when he became a fire fighter, but he had had to move three states away to find a department that was hiring at the time. Even after all the budget cuts, he had somehow kept working, still supporting his small family of a wife and two kids, up until the public funding for all police and firefighters was entirely cut.

  He and his wife Karen had continued making a living for as long as they could, and in the end they had to face facts that they just couldn’t continue on as they had been going, so they made the hard decision to come back home and try to reconnect with the rest of his family. That was when I came back into the picture again, in what was yet another chance encounter.

  After all the gun training I had spent a couple of days working at my own home site. Then after another nonproductive four days of hunting in the woods, working farther and farther away, I had turned it into an information gathering trip. The last time I had been headed out this direction was when I saw the smoke of a campfire on the side of the road. That was when I had first seen Megan and her two traveling partners and had decided to follow them back towards town.

  This time I had made it quite a bit further North before I again heard commotion on the road. I had been starting to look for a camping spot for the night when the unmistakable sound of vehicles caught my attention. After having not heard a running engine for so long, the noise seemed loud and foreign, but it hadn’t been so long that I couldn’t easily identify it. I made it to the edge of the tree line that overlooked a section of the highway just in time to see a mid 80’s era suburban fly past with a little Subaru in hot pursuit, followed again by a tan SUV that was busy bouncing off a concrete barrier and again on the metal guardrail that bracketed each side of the road.

  The suburban didn’t make it far though as there was a section of road choked with abandoned cars, stalled behind the site of a now ancient two car collision right in their path. I dropped back into the w
oods and quickly made my way towards the spot of the accident and the predictable upcoming showdown.

  The suburban was stopped with no place to go and I could see it was loaded to the gills with boxes, bags and plastic totes. I was pretty sure I could see two people moving around inside but couldn’t really be sure.

  The banged up SUV was now passing me and coming up on the scene. I was hustling through the trees and bushes along the top of the little ridge, that’s when I saw the guy in the Suburban get out of the driver’s side door and pull a child out of the rear door as a woman was doing the same on the other side.

  Damn. There went my nonintervention policy.

  The dad was ushering his kid around the front of their Suburban towards the woman when two skinny looking punks bailed out of the Subaru and started yelling at them. I couldn’t hear all the words, but I easily caught the glint of shinny steel in the suburban Dad’s hand as he checked his revolver’s cylinder. Things were about to get bloody.

  Back at the house, as I came around the back of the suburban. Everyone at the Harris’ had gathered outside the front of the house… and I saw I was walking right into a conversation I really didn’t want to be a part of.

  “… and well, he saved us,” Karen, Derek’s wife was saying.

  “Yeah he does that sometimes,” Breanne said disapprovingly, but with the hint of a smile at Megan standing next to her which belied her tone.

  I was glad to see she was grateful for the new friend she had made in Megan. I also knew I’d be getting an ear full later.

  “Everyone made the introductions?” I walked up.

  “Yes, right before Karen here started telling us their story,” Breanne informed me with enough attitude to get her unspoken point across that I was in trouble… again.

  I should have just got out of the truck, grabbed my pack and started walking.