CHRISTMAS SHOOTOUT

Stanley Morganstein First Serial Rights
Copyright 12/5/03 http://www.nvo.com/stanmorgan

Christmas Shootout
By
Stanley Morganstein

          Arresting those Johns on Van Buren as they stop to get a prostitute was becoming a drag. So I went on a hike to Superstition Mountains. After working the evening shift I went to sleep as soon as I crashed in my apartment. Hitting the bed, I thought about my existence. Ten years with vice I still haven't made Lieutenant. Bringing in pros for a little chitchat was getting depressing, so I had to get away.

          As I entered the gate at Lost Dutchman's State Park in Apache Junction Arizona two attractive girls were sitting on the wood entrance. "'Hi, " I greeted them as I entered.

          Definitely not pros, I thought.

          "Hi, " the brunette answered, her slender form appeared agitated. "Some hunters are firing weapons. "

          "This is a hiking site, not a hunting location, " I emphasized.

          "I heard bullets whiz over our heads, " the blond interjected.

         "I'm an off duty police officer. But I wanted to get away from that today, " I angrily replied.

         I had my Glock in my hip holster for general safety, since rattlesnakes are always present, as indicated by the snake holes marking the Superstitions.

         "Maybe you should talk to them officer said the brunette. "

         Pop. pop a rifle reverberated throughout the area, echoing off Siphon Trail spires.

         "I see one of the hunters in orange uniform, crossing Jacob's crosscut, " I observed with teeth clenched. The hunters had ruined my day off!

         "My name is Paula, " the blond offered. "I'm afraid, however, our brother is still on the mountain and we have to wait for him. "

         "I'm Rich, " answering the blond, her ample body drawing me toward her. Welcome change from the pros I see every day.

         "We aren't, " deadpanned the brunette.

         "No my name is Rich. "

         "Just joking, " the brunette interjected with a rye grin, like a skull expression.

         "Cut the joke bull, " rapped the blond, her serious expression juxtaposed with the skull of the brunette.

         "Give me your names and telephone numbers for witnesses, " I ordered although Paula looked like the one of my dreams.

         "Sure Rich, but I would like you to call me for social reasons, " offered the blond. God was on my side.

         I entered their names and telephone numbers in my new handhold device.

         "I'll have a conversation with the hunters, " I warned the girls, as I tried to reassure their anxieties. Confronting men with weapons was a change from busting pros and Johns, who had sex rather than shooting on their minds. I remembered the stories by Hemingway, "The Killers", and the "Snows of Killamenjaro". The two stories merged in my thoughts. I felt a cold chill.

         "Good luck Rich, " the gorgeous blond cried with trepidation in her voice. From graduate school in criminology to pros to tracking hunters with dangerous weapons. I could be shot accidentally, or by intention if one of the hunters were pathological. I recalled the case studies in graduate school at ASU of the multiple personality hunter and banker. He was a banker during the day and hunter on weekends. "Distinct personalities existed alternatively without interaction", the Professor said. The sociopath hunter and the conservative banker!

         I crossed Siphon Trail to Jacob's crosscut, avoiding Prospector's Lookout, since that was in the line of fire. Hikers descended the Lookout as the hunter with a shotgun fired...boom.. .that reverberated throughout the mountain echoing back with a reply...raouoooom. .. I began to pray to my self...please god I don't 't want lo get shot on my day off. Ha does that mean I don't café about being shot while I'm on duty? Clearing my mind of the jailhouse humor, I intersected Jacob's Crosscut trail, approaching the orange hunter. As I approached he froze in his tracks looking at something in the bushes at right angles to my viewpoint. He fired a shotgun blast...boom... at the bushes. At that moment I unholstered by Glock with two-handed downward direction.

         Crackling sounds of branches, and a bird flew up over my head like a bat out of hell. It was a humming bird. The hunter had fired a shotgun blast at a humming bird!

Brooooooooooom... the bird shot away like a jet. I came face to face with the hunter, shocked expression on his face. I put on my game face.

          "What are you doing shooting on a hiking trail? " I growled.

          "My business, not yours, " cracked the hunter, his face shaken by my confrontation.

          The psychopathic Hunter? "This is not a legal hunting area. "

          "Are you a park Ranger? "

          "No, I'm a police officer. "

          "You're out of you jurisdiction. " Starting to move his shotgun in my direction.

          "Drop your weapon, " I ordered noticing he was close to aiming the shotgun at my body.

          "You better have a weapon yourself, " threatening me with impunity.

          I quickly raised by Glock to center-fire postion.

          "Drop the peashooter or I'll blast you with my 12 gauge shotgun, " as the silver barrel twinkled with the glare from the sun.

          "I can get off ten shots before you fire two, " I reacted not confident that ten Glock shots would nullify one point blank shotgun blast. With my poker race I tried to bluff the Hunter.

          "I know from Vietnam that a 9mm is a last resort, Ha Ha... "

          So he was at least middle age, I thought. Vietnam Vet with Hunter's instinct.

          "I was in Desert Storm, " I interrupted his laugh.


          "Over quickly, Ha, " laughed cynically the middle aged man. His closely shaven face displayed his weathered, leathery expression. Was he a Greeny? Those guys I heard were killers in NAM, on missions at night looking for snipers. Never associated with the regular Army. He had black marks on his face. He thinks he is still in NAM!

          "Hold on soldier, your mission is over, " I ordered as an officer in the military.

          "Who are you..."

          "I'm your commanding officer, " using psychology to bring him down to Earth. He was outer body in NAM.

          "Captain Hawkins? "

          "Yes, 1 have come to end you tour. You can go home now soldier. "

          Dropping his shotgun to his side the old soldier switched hands and saluted me as he about faced in the gravel. During the twisting and crackle at the gritty ground, a second hunter approached. He carried a high-powered rifle extended toward me, pointing downward.

          "Who the hell is he? " Asked the second Orange Hunter.

          "My commanding officer Captain Hawkins. "

          "Your crazy Captain Hawkins was killed by a Gook in NAM butt head. It was a child with a grenade. I shot the kid after he fragged Cap Hawk. "

          "He lied to me..."

          "I'm a police officer. I was attempting to cool down your friend..,"

          "Only the Rangers have jurisdiction here, pig. "

          "Alright drop your weapon."

          "How do 1 know you're a cop. You lied to my friend."

          I watched his rifle in its upward rise to aiming position. Without much thought I aimed my Glock at the center-fire position and gave a last warning, "drop your weapon, or I will shoot."

          "For the Orange Men and Irish Protestants! I must exterminate you. "

          Startled by the second Orange Hunter's statement I thought I was standing in a green field with rolling hills the land of my Grandfather, the: Emerald Isle, Ireland. To my side Dan O'Riley stood in his upright 6.5 stature, the biggest Irishmen outside of Dublin.
          He raised a fist above his head. We'll fight till w ' die, kill the bloody English, and take back Ireland our homeland.

          I heard the echo of shot as the Orange Hunter fell to the ground. I felt the recoil of my Glock. Shocked by discharge I dropped my Glock to the ground.

          "You killed him..."

          "He said he was an Orange Man.'"

          "He is here for a visit from Belfast. I met him at the Hunter's United Club, in Deer Valley."

          "I heard of that group. You are militia militants."

          "I only hunt, not explode bombs."

          His rational speech surprised me, given his confusion with NAM and Captain Hawkins. But my objectivity evaporated for a minute transforming Jacob's Crosscut into Ireland. Turning to my side I subconsciously searched for Dan O'Riley as a cold chill caused me to shiver. Was that my imagination, or did I have an outer body experience?

          He dropped his weapon as he fell to the body of his friend. Crying quietly he opened the jacket of the Orange hunter and pulled out a picture. "Look at this. A picture of his mother and him in Belfast."

          I grabbed the picture from his outstretched hand. Happy expressions on the faces of his red headed mother and red headed boy. In the background was a grim scene with soldiers, and a smoke filled road. To the side I noticed a tail man with a grin on his face.

          I moved the photo closer, and gasped. It looked like my Grandfather standing tall with his fist raised in triumph.
          As I approached the gate I noticed the two girls were still waiting. Feeling down concerning the shootout, I spoke to the blond Paula, "I had to shoot one of the hunters!"
          "Don't feel bad...they almost shot us! What about the social date tonight for Christmas Dinner. I will cook!" This picked up my spirits as I followed the girls to their home. During the drive to Paula's I notified the Mesa Police Department about the shooting. The dinner was great and I established a good relationship with Paula!
          Considering the strange circumstances of my encounter at Superstition Mountains with hunters that were from another era or country, I haven't fathomed the apparition of Dan O'Riley or the unfortunate coincidence of meeting a terrorist from Northern Ireland.

          The F.B.I. contacted the Irish Authorities who provided knowledge of the dead member of a splinter terrorist group in Northern Ireland. Completing my report I looked at the name of the dead terrorist, John Riley.

END

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