005 - Meet The Caplan's part 2

The staccato of gunfire had echoed in the small box canyon all day. Vehicles of various kinds cycled through the parking area of the narrow valley in counterpoint to the shooting. They parked in a rough line at the base of the shorter hill on the south side, facing the larger one to the north. The intervening valley was about the size of a small athletic field, and strewn with mostly biodegradable debris. Several metal targets, and other larger objects, stood in rough order across the valley. Sometimes the gunfire ceased and figures would walk out and add, adjust, or remove things.

As it was, the sun was now behind the high hills to the west, and the shadows were disappearing. There were only three trucks left scattered across the informal line. It had been a good day of shooting, but there were other things to do. Steven had put the long-arms away, while his two kids picked up the loose brass. The targets were still set up, for one last drill.

Diana and Alex stood aside, Diana holding the stopwatch. Steven waited, standing as relaxed as he could. He stood in about the middle of the firing line. The other men were sitting on the tailgate of one of the trucks several yards away, watching while talking to each other. Everybody had earmuffs and safety glasses on. When Diana was ready, she pushed the start button. The beep from the watch was Steven’s cue.

In one movement Steven bent his knees slightly, shoulders dropping, head going forward, right hand going under his jacket to draw his gun. He pushed the gun forward at the targets, left hand wrapping around the right. Starting on the left, Steven squeezed the trigger before he was at full extension. Each steel circle, mounted to its post, rang as the bullet hit. Steven swept to the right as each gong rang once. The cardboard targets were in the middle with the steel silhouette plates, and more gongs to finish.

The last gong rang as the slide locked back. The magazine dropped from the pistol as Steven’s left hand went for the next one on his belt. His focus did not leave the front sight of the gun as it he brought it back to reload. Slamming the magazine home, he thumbed the slide return, his left hand resumed position as the pistol went back forward. Steven swept back across the targets. After reloading a second time, he swept across a third time. When his slide locked back again, he ejected the last magazine.

As soon as the third magazine dropped, Diana stopped the watch. 45 rounds, 2 magazine switches, all swept across ten gongs, three steel plates, and two cardboard targets. All fifteen targets had been hit three times. All in under 25 seconds.

Not his best, but Steven was satisfied. He did not compete, but he practiced regularly. He checked and then holstered his pistol, and picked up his magazines. While Diana and Alex gathered his spent brass, Steven knocked the little bit of grit and dust from the magazines and turned back to the truck.

Looking at the other two guys at the far end of the line, Steven saw that they had removed their earmuffs. He took his own off and put them into his range bag that sat on the tailgate. Pulling out a fresh box of shells, he reloaded the magazines with fresh carry ammo. When full, two magazines went back into his belt. The third reloaded the gun, which was then safed and reholstered. By this point, the kids had put all the brass they could find in a stuff sack, and dragged in a gong each.

Alex climbed into the bed of the truck, as Diana handed up first the gong, and then the stand. Steven took the bag, and put it in the back seat of the cab as they got the second gong into the truck.

“Climb in.” Steven got in as Diana climbed into the bed. He then backed the truck up to the arrayed gongs. Alex and Diana began loading these as Steven walked to the steel plates, and pulled them over to the truck. While Alex stood on the tailgate and held the plate, Steven disassembled the bolt and spring that held it to its post. These were stored away, and then the other plate was likewise disassembled. Diana had the close gongs loaded. They quickly retrieved and loaded the last four gongs and the target stands.

Once everything was loaded and secured, they did one last police of the area picking up the smaller trash, and some of the larger junk and putting it in the truck to be tossed in a convenient dumpster. It was getting dark now. They all climbed into the cab, and left the practice range. Steven drove quickly west back to Sparks, and to the high school where Roxanne’s tournament was being held.

They got there and parked next to Roxanne’s custom ’67 Camero. After securing the guns inside the cab of the truck, they entered the school building. Their reek of gunpowder put a few people off, but Steven’s six-and-a-half-foot height, close cut brown hair, and martial build discouraged anymore than slightly annoyed looks. On the other hand, most of the populace of the area shot, or had friends that did at some point. Steven’s slightly amused and benign expression discouraging any further curiosity. Diana and Alex quickly wended their way out front to watch, while Steven scanned the room, and then moved to sit on one of the upper bleachers.

All attention was on the martial arts tournament. It had been going for some time, but there were a lot of contestants. Three rings filled the gym, with matches going on in each one. As Steven scanned the room, he spotted many familiar people. There was his wife over by the left ring. Steven first spotted the outfit, and knew it was her. Roxanne wore a white gi and black belt, with most likely her usual black spandex top and trunks underneath. The school logo was printed on the left side of her sports-bra, and on the back of her gi. She also wore slippers, until she stepped onto the mat to fight. Her mid-length hair was pulled into a tight, short tail. She kept the front long enough to be even with the back when tied together. And like all the competitors, she had removed all her jewelry, what little she wore.

All the rest of the competitors, students and instructors alike, were similarly dressed. White gi with the school logo on back for those from Rox’s school. Black gi with logo on the left breast for a second school. A tan gi with a logo on back for a third school. A few were in generic gi’s with no logos. Everybody had his or her various colored belts.

Roxanne stood out from the rest on the floor just by her unique build. Her skin was as pale as herself-tailored gi, but always looked a bit blue under stadium lights. At the moment, she stood by as one of her students fought with one from another dojo. Her bright amber eyes did not miss a move. A hesitation, a stutter in movement, an opening. Her open smile showed approval as her student scored a point.

As the tournament had progressed, Roxanne encouraged her students. She also kept notes on what to drill them on. Occasionally she yelled instructions and compliments. Only half of her class entered the tournament, though most were in attendance. Being second level students, she had to be careful not to push them too hard. But more were winning than not. She was pleased with that, compared to the last tournament.

Then her class level was done. One of her girls had fought one of her boys point for point for the final. He was better, but made a mistake, and she won the group. Roxanne’s notebook was full of things to review over the summer when she put it away in her gear bag, next to her towel and water bottle. The instructor of the other school came over and congratulated her. They would meet again in less than half an hour, when they took to the center mat for the top level adult competition.

Everybody took a few moments to mull about as the outer ring mats were folded and the adult contestants introduced. These had drawn for a best-of-three round robin course. As he sat and watched, Steven could see that something was bothering his wife. But he kept his place, as she had previously asked him never to come to her during a tournament. The kids respected this as well, waving from among their friends, but staying put. Roxanne waved back, and then spotted Steven and blew him a kiss. Steven caught it, and blew one back. Then the matches began.

Roxanne’s first match was the third on the mat. The adults went faster than the children, and were more aggressive, fighting without pads. There were also fewer of them. Roxanne lost this match, but won her second and third matches. Steven could see that she was off her concentration. She had won only by reflex.

Roxanne next faced the instructor from the other school. She was taller and faster than her opposite number, but he was stronger, and got inside her guard. She was distracted, not concentrating from the start, so she lost. After her round was done, she sat down off to the side. But she was not overly upset. She had won this tournament twice before.

Steven got up, went down the bleachers, and gathered the kids. Together they went and sat by Roxanne. The tension in her was almost palpable to Steven. He began massaging her hand and arm, working on the bruises, to keep them from getting too black and blue. She sat quietly as he did this, watching the contest. But her mind was obviously somewhere else.

Finally Steven spoke. “What’s wrong?”

Rox shook her head. “I don’t know. I just have a strange feeling that some thing is going to happen, soon.”

“What, when?” He moved her hair over her left shoulder, to massage her neck.

“Something both good and bad, and soon. I haven’t been able to shake it for a while. I’ve had a hard time focusing lately.” She shook her head.

“When it happens, you will know it. Until then, don’t worry.”

“Easy for you to say.”