A Day at The Range Part 1
Dar Hutson Scally
(December 14,1999)
Blair Sandburg took a sip of his mint tea as he popped his bagel out of the toaster, placing it on the plate in front of him. He grimaced at the thought of eating it, but he knew he needed to force something into his stomach to help settle his nerves. The thought of what he had to do today sent a momentary wave of dizziness through him.
Eight weeks in the Police Academy had done nothing to prepare him for this day, this
test of all tests. He had found everything at the Academy to be relatively easy. He already knew most of the laws and procedures. He knew how to write an effective report, how to testify in court, how to interrogate a suspect. All of these things he had basically learned "on the job" over the last four years working with his Sentinel. In fact, the Academy instructors had suggested he didn't really need to do the full course. He could take tests to demonstrate his knowledge. They would let him know when to show up for the firearms training.
But he hadn't wanted to be set apart. He wanted to show all of the others that he could pass the Academy just like everyone else. And to do that, he had to actually attend.
And when it came to firearms training he had worked harder than he had ever worked on anything in his life. This was the part of police work that he found to be the most difficult. He didn't care how good of a shot he ever got to be. He still didn't really think he'd ever be able to shoot anyone.
He hoped that if he practiced and got to the point that he could actually hit what he was aiming for, maybe he would be able to make those "shoot the weapon out of their hands" shots like Jim was always doing. That had always amazed him. Of course, he wasn't alone. Those kinds of shots amazed everyone. The instructors at the Academy had been very clear about that.
It's not about pinpoint accuracy, they had said. It's about aiming for the chest and hoping that you at least hit somewhere on the body and incapacitate the threat. Heroic shots like you see on tv don't happen in real life. Don't even try it, they had said. You would only end up dead. While you're trying to get off the perfect shot, the bad guy is blasting away at you. He doesn't care about any perfect shot. He just wants to kill you. And if you're too preoccupied with trying 'not' to kill him, you'll be dead before you get a chance to re-think your decision.
Anyway, today was Blair Sandburg's day to "qualify" with his service weapon. This was the final week of the Police Academy. Then it would be off to field training, where everyone would be assigned to a patrol car with an experienced veteran "field training" officer. After two weeks of field training, each new police officer would receive their permanent duty assignment. Of course, his was already pre-determined. At least he wasn't the only one in his Academy class to be going directly into detectives. There were two others, one a former Military MP and one a former Sheriff from a small town in North Carolina. Both of them would be going directly to the Fraud Division as Detectives, just as Blair was going directly to a coveted spot in Major Crimes.
Blair took a bite of the bagel and chewed slowly. Maybe a bagel wasn't the best choice. It gummed up into a ball in his mouth and he swallowed it, washing it down with his now cooling tea. Looking at his watch, he realized that would have to do. He was out of time. It wouldn't do to be late for his time slot at the firing range.
He tossed the bagel in the trash and dumped the tea in the sink. Then, putting on his jacket and taking a deep breath, he walked out the door.
Jim Ellison glanced at the time on his computer. Ten a.m. Blair should be getting ready to shoot right about now. He sent up a little prayer that his soon to be official partner would pass the tests. He knew he would do fine on the indoor target range, and probably the outdoor range as well. The problem for Blair would be with the real scenarios range. This was where an officer had to walk through a mock city street and be ready to shoot at the appropriate targets as they popped out at him. It required split second decisions and it required shooting some very real looking dummy people. It was actually fairly simple. The ones who were pointing a gun at you, you shot. The ones who held up their hands or a cell phone or a radio, or any other innocuous items, you didn't.
Most officers erred on the side of shooting unarmed civilians. There was a tendency to get caught up in firing and shoot at everything that moved. Jim wasn't worried at all that Blair would do that. He was more worried that Blair would hold back on shooting and miss the bad guy dummies.
Jim looked at the empty desk next to his and longed for it to be occupied by Detective Blair Sandburg. He smiled when he thought about the gold plated name plaque they had all chipped in on. It was currently stored in Simon's desk, waiting for Blair's first official day at work in Major Crimes. That would be a day for celebration.
Blair breathed a sigh of relief. Two down. He couldn't believe he had scored 100 on both the indoor and outdoor range. Maybe all that practice really did make a difference. He had thought his hands would have been shaking so badly that he wouldn't have been able to come anywhere near the target, but when it came time to actually shoot he was able to pretend he was just practicing again and that nobody cared how he scored. He had faced worse pressure than this in his life. He wasn't going to let a simple test of shooting skill fluster him.
Now came the most difficult part, at least for him. He walked over to wait for his turn at the city street simulation. This was, for him, the nightmare of all tests. He would have to walk down this block long street, ready to shoot, ready to determine in split-seconds which movements around him were peaceful civilians and which were weapon carrying threats. They had each tried this course during training at least a couple of times. Each time he had done it, he had failed to shoot when he should have shot. If it had been real life, he would either have been shot himself or let an innocent hostage get killed because of his hesitation to shoot.
He was determined that today would be different. He was going to psyche himself up to feel like this was a real situation. He was sure that if it felt real enough to him, he'd be able to react the right way.
"Hey, Sandburg. How's it going?" Bruce Wilkins walked up to get in line behind him. "I heard you scored 100 on the range."
Blair turned and nodded. "Yeah, must have been a fluke."
"No way. I've seen you practicing everyday." Bruce said. "You've gotten to be a good shot."
Blair managed a weak smile. "Maybe so, but that's not going to help me here."
Bruce smiled. He knew this had been the hardest thing for Blair to handle. "Hey, you'll do fine. After shooting so well on the indoor and the outdoor, you only have to score 50 on this to pass."
Blair shook his head. "That might be all they'll require, but if I only score 50 on this, I'll do it over until I get it right."
They stood in line, Blair bouncing on his heels, for another half an hour before it was finally Blair's turn.
"Sandburg, you're up next."
Blair stepped up to the starting line and checked his gun, making sure he was loaded and ready. Then he checked to make sure he had a clip ready to reload in his pocket. You had to be ready on this simulation. Sometimes they set it up so that you had to reload before you were done, sometimes not. Each time you went through the course it was different. They had all of the scenarios numbered and kept track of which ones you had already faced. So, they made sure each officer got a new scenario each time they did the course.
Blair nodded to show he was ready and pulled his gun out, holding it with both hands down low in front of him. The bell rang and he stepped onto the street.
Everything else disappeared for him. He was alone on a city street. It was daylight. He was supposed to be looking for three escaped bank robbers who had just fled the scene of the robbery. They could be anywhere.
He walked carefully along the street, briefly wishing he had sentinel sight or hearing. He could feel the sweat building on his face and wished he could take a moment to wipe his sleeve across it, but he couldn't take a chance that something would happen during that moment. There were normal street noises playing in the background, sounds of traffic and people talking, kids playing. It was strange to hear that, when there was no visual evidence to go with it. No cars on the street and so far, no people.
Suddenly there was movement off to his right and he pulled his gun up, ready to make a shot if necessary. Then a child jumped out from behind a crate and he dropped his gun back and kept walking. Next, a dark figure popped out at him from an alley and within a moment he could see the gun rising in the hands of a masked man. Before the gun could be aimed at him, he called off his warning. "Police, freeze!"
The gun continued to rise toward him. He shot and the bad guy dummy dropped.
He kept walking, feeling a little more confidant now. Next, a woman came out at him, holding up a dark object. He pulled his gun up to a ready position, then dropped it back down as he distinguished the object in her hands to be a large cell phone. He walked on.
There was a car parked on the side of the road. He remembered last time he had walked down this way , there had been a bad guy dummy behind this car. It had jumped out and shot him and he hadn't reacted fast enough. This time, he wasn't going to miss it. As he approached the car, a basketball rolled out into the street from behind the car. He kept his gun at the ready and stepped a little closer, waiting to see if a child followed the ball or someone more sinister.
It was a woman, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, carrying a backpack. He looked at her carefully and was about to drop his gun from the firing position when he saw her arms rise. He was able to shoot fast enough to stop her from blowing his head off with the AK47 she had in her hands.
Blair continued down the street. He was almost done, and none too soon. He was starting to feel shaky, probably from all the stress and not having eaten a decent breakfast. His stomach was churning away. He hoped once this was over with, he could go meet Jim for a nice lunch. Hopefully, a celebratory lunch.
Simulated rain was an interesting surprise. He didn't know they had that. But suddenly this end of the street got dark and rain started falling. Lights started coming on in the building windows and streetlights came on. He hadn't done this in the dark before.
Before he had a chance to wonder if the dark would make any difference, he caught movement coming at him from both sides of the street at the same time. He held his gun ready and crouched to make himself a lesser target, swinging from one side to the other.
The first one to appear was an elderly man with a cane hobbling out from the right. Then, to the left, another man came out, this one pulling a gun up, aiming at the man with the cane. Blair could see that he was about to fire and for a moment he forgot where he was. He just knew he had to protect the old man. He took a shot at the man with the gun and the plastic gun went flying out of the dummy's hands.
Simon walked by Jim's desk, glancing down as he walked. Expecting to see a report being worked on, he stopped short. Jim was sitting there, staring into space while his hand scribbled on a blank sheet of paper. It had obviously started out as a doodle, but was now just a black blob where Jim's pencil had repeatedly scratched at the same spot.
"Jim." Simon called, gently.
No response. Simon stepped beside him behind the desk and put his hand on his shoulder.
"Jim." He called, gently shaking him.
Jim shook, startled out of his thoughts, and looked over at Simon, then around him, as if suddenly realizing where he was.
"Sorry, sir. I guess I just had my mind on something." Jim said.
Simon smiled, remembering what was going on today. "Haven't heard from Sandburg yet?"
"No. He should be just about done by now." Jim said. "I'm taking him out to lunch. Would you like to join us?"
"That sounds good." Simon answered. "Only if he passes, though. I don't think I want to be around a depressed Sandburg today."
Jim smiled. "He'll pass."
Blair walked off the course, putting his gun in its holster on the back of his belt. He walked over to the scoreboard to check his score. He was sure he had passed. He just wanted to see his score.
It would show his total score for his tests today. You had to get a total score of 78 to pass. He looked on the computer screen at the listing, finding his name and followed it across for his scores. 100 on the first test, 100 on the second test, and 100 on the last test. His total score was 100. Nobody got 100 for their total score. For one part or another, yeah, but not for the total. How could this have happened. He was amazed.
"I can't believe I got a hundred." He stammered.
Suddenly, he realized he was feeling a bit light headed and queasy, so he decided maybe he'd better go sit down for a few minutes. He turned to walk over toward the benches, but the world was getting fuzzy on him and dark around the edges. He heard someone calling his name and turned to look at them, but before he could see who it was he felt himself being sucked into a black hole. He didn't even feel the ground hitting him.
Jim grabbed the phone on the first ring, expecting it to be Sandburg calling him to let him know how he scored on the test. He didn't expect to hear the voice of Sgt. Lindeman from the police firing range.
"Ellison, this is Joe Lindeman from the range. Listen, Blair Sandburg has you listed at the top of his notification list."
"What happened?" Jim blurted out anxiously. "Is he all right?"
"Well, he just passed out on us about 20 minutes ago. The medic unit is enroute to Cascade General with him right now." Lindeman said.
"Did anything happen? Why did he pass out?" Jim demanded.
"Nothing happened. He was fine and then he passed out. We don't know why. He was looking really pale there." Lindeman explained. "One of the other rookies, Bruce Wilkins, went along to the hospital with him."
"Okay, thanks for the call." Jim said, standing up, as he hung up the phone.
Simon had glanced up when he heard Jim's phone ring and had been waiting for him to get off the phone. Seeing him hang up, Simon got up from his desk and walked out of his office.
"Well, Jim, how did he do?"
Jim grabbed his jacket off the rack behind his desk and started putting it on. "I don't know. I don't even know if he finished. That was Sgt. Lindeman on the phone. Sandburg passed out and is on the way to the hospital."
"Passed out!" Simon repeated. "Hold up, Jim. I'm coming with you." He said, heading to his office to grab his jacket.
The emergency room was rather busy for midday on a Wednesday. The waiting room was packed with people waiting to be seen and others waiting to see how their family members or friends were doing. Jim walked through the room, hardly noticing anything. His hearing was already tuned into trying to find his partner. Over the years, he had become really adept at picking Blair out of a crowd. It wasn't just his heartbeat. It was even the sounds of his breathing and movements and the smell of his herbal tea on his breath.
Jim followed his senses into the emergency room. Simon followed Jim. They walked to a curtained off area, where a young, muscular black man jeans and a gray t-shirt stood nervously. As they walked up, he looked at them and stepped toward them.
"Detective Ellison?" He asked. Jim nodded.
"I'm Bruce Wilkins. I was at the range with Blair when he passed out."
Jim motioned to Simon. "Captain Banks." Simon and Bruce exchanged greetings.
"What happened?" Simon asked.
