Chapter 95 - High Incident

Cate was in the armory when she heard them arrive. She closed her eyes briefly as the sound of Jon’s voice made her heart throb. Lord, give me strength, she prayed. Just let me get through this lesson.

“Slick!” she heard Danny bark out. Cate steeled herself, then picked up the ammo cans and walked through the armory door, out onto the range floor. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she walked toward Danny and Jon.

Jon’s eyes met Cate’s for a brief moment as she approached, then flicked away. Cate felt her breath catch in her throat, but kept walking. She strode past Jon and Danny, dropping the ammo cans at stations 10 and 12.

She turned back to the men and walked over to Jon, her hand going to the small of her back. She pulled out the Glock she had tucked into her waistband and held it out to him, not looking at his face. He accepted it silently.

Now she had to speak. “Did you bring your vest?’ she asked. Her voice was rough, her tone resigned.

“Yes,” Jon answered, not looking at her.

Cate nodded shortly. “Get your leather gear and ear and eye protection on, and your vest. You’ll need your OC Spray trainer, too.” Her voice cracked slightly.

Jon felt a stab of pain at the break in her voice. This was killing them both. He drew in a deep breath. God, he just wanted to put both of them out of their misery. It would be the most humane thing to do, like putting down a wounded animal.

There was only one way Jon could think of to do that. He had to allow Cate to justify her anger. He had to make her hate him. And if there was one thing he could do well, it was act like a prick.

“Fine,” he answered tartly, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his true emotions. He looked at Cate and saw her gaze snap upward to his face, a hint of surprise in her guarded expression.

Oh, Holy Fuck, here we go! Danny rolled his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I’m gonna go set up,” he announced gruffly, turning on his heel and stomping toward the stairs to the control booth.

Jon and Cate each moved to their positions and silently loaded their magazines while Danny activated the target tracks and flipped the lights on and off a few times. Jon looked up in surprise as the back half of the range, furthest from them, darkened.

Cate noticed. “It’s Night Fire,” she said tersely. “A lot of what we’re gonna do will be in the dark.”

Jon nodded. “Good,” he said coldly. I won’t be have to see the hurt in your eyes….

Cate’s eyes narrowed at Jon’s retort. Fine, Jackass, she thought. Obviously he was pissed off at her, as she had assumed. Cate still couldn’t quite believe Jon had walked out on her earlier, after their fight in the mat room. She had been relieved at first, but her pride had taken a little hit, too. She had known tonight wouldn’t be easy, but she hoped it at least wouldn’t be combative. So much for that idea.

Once they were ready and Cate had Danny set targets at the seven-yard mark, she turned to face Jon. She paused for a moment, summoning her calm. Once she settled into the rhythm of teaching she would be fine. At least she hoped so.

“First thing we’re going to do is close-in firing. That’s why the targets are at seven yards.” Cate’s voice was tightly controlled, her speech cadence clipped. “Many shots-fired incidents occur at close range, when the officer has used lesser levels of force without success. Then he may be forced to use his firearm.”

Jon stood rigidly, his arms crossed over the black body armor that sheathed his chest. He stared at Cate as he listened to her, trying to appear stoic. But his insides were churning as he did his best to summon his acting skills.

Cate’s eyes flicked up to Jon’s face as she continued, explaining that an officer may not have time or distance to fully draw and point a weapon during a fight. She saw him staring coldly at her, almost sneering. She felt a little flare of temper at his demeanor. Yeah, I don’t want to be here either, she thought, her expression darkening to mirror his.

“In this exercise you will perform close-in fire after using an intermediate weapon,” she recited verbatim from the lesson plan. Cate stepped off the firing line platform, out onto the gravel lane of the range. She walked forward until she stood about ten feet in front of her target. Realizing Jon hadn’t followed her, she turned to give him a direct look. “You training tonight or not?” She asked accusingly.

Jon didn’t reply, but stepped off the platform and moved into position in front of his target. He stared silently at her, waiting for her to continue her recitation.

“Now, on my command you will draw your OC canister, discharge it, then drop the canister and draw your weapon. The assumption is that the suspect was not stopped by the use of the spray and is proceeding to attack you.” Cate paused for breath. “Now, if you draw normally…” she unholstered her weapon and pushed it forward to take aim. “You are basically offering the weapon to the bad guy as he approaches you. Saying ‘here, take it’.”

“Not if you fire fast enough,” Jon responded snarkily.

Cate’s eyes widened slightly at Jon’s comment. “Yeah, but if you’re a good cop, and you want to keep your ass out of jail, you’re going to issue a warning first, before you fire.”

Jon snorted in response, but didn’t speak.

Cate shot him a dirty look, then continued. “The officer will attempt to create reactionary space by stepping back while drawing, then if necessary firing from a defensive position.” Cate stepped backward away from her target as she pulled her arm back toward her body, turning her hand outward so that she rested the butt of the Glock’s grip against her right side, near the bottom of her ribcage. “You brace the weapon against your body for stability, since you’ll be firing one-handed.” She again looked at Jon. “Understand?”

“Yeah,” he answered shortly.

Cate’s temper jumped again, and she tried to ignore it. She pointed to a spot behind where Jon stood. “Step back. I’m going to demonstrate,” she ordered.

Jon silently complied, then watched as Cate holstered her Glock and stepped forward to face her target. Pretending the target was a person, Cate addressed it with an order to stop. Then she swiftly drew her OC Spray trainer canister from her belt, aiming it at the silhouette target. She again barked to “stop,” then shouted “Spray!” as she shot a blast of aerosolized water at the target.

Cate flung the canister to the ground and in a fluid movement drew her weapon as she stepped backwards. She again yelled “Stop! Police!” as she braced the Glock against the side of her body armor. A second later she fired off four rounds in rapid succession, all four bullets piercing the target in the middle of the silhouette’s chest.

Jon’s jaw dropped at Cate’s demonstration, but he recovered before she could turn and see his response. After she performed the recovery move and holstered her Glock, she turned to face Jon. “Got it?” she asked. She saw him nod, his expression betraying no emotion. “Okay, your turn.”

Jon stepped forward to face his target. He took a deep breath, then moved his hands to his belt. “Stop!” he ordered his target, his voice hoarse. As Cate had done, he drew his OC canister, discharged and discarded it, then drew his weapon. He automatically started to extend it forward to aim, but he remembered and drew it back to his side as Cate had done. He took two steps back and commanded “Stop! Police!” before opening fire on the target.

“Cease fire! Recover and holster!” Cate ordered. She looked at Jon’s target and saw that he had placed all four rounds on the silhouette, though not all in the center ring. “Good,” she said shortly. “Let’s do it again.”

Jon fixed her with a stern look. “No, I think that’s enough,” he said coolly. “I don’t need to know this tactic for the movie, so there’s no reason to practice it. Move on.”

Cate’s mouth dropped open at Jon’s impudence. How DARE he? This was HER training session, and she was damned well going to follow the plan. “NO, we will conduct this training according to the lesson plan,” she growled through clenched teeth, giving him a glare.

Jon’s jaw tensed and he glared back at her. “NO, we won’t. I’m not doing it again. What’s next?” He did his best to keep his voice level and emotionless.

Cate blinked back at Jon for a moment, not sure how to handle his refusal. It wasn’t like she could threaten to fail him, or send him to see the Course Director. She had no leverage at all in this situation. And it was apparent Jon didn’t want to be here tonight any more than she did.

“FINE.” She snarled. She turned to look up at the control booth and raised her hand, signaling to Danny. “Moving on,” she said with a heavy dose of sarcasm in her tone.

Danny was watching and listening from his perch in the booth. He was baffled by Jon’s behavior. On the drive over the men had spoken little, and they hadn’t mentioned Cate at all. But Danny could see from Jon’s body language how miserable he was. When they had arrived at the range and Cate had come out of the armory, Danny had seen the yearning in Jon’s eyes. He had half-expected Jon to drop to his knees in front of Cate and beg her forgiveness, so intense had been his reaction.

But as soon as the training started, Jon’s demeanor had shifted abruptly. His posture was rigid and defensive, and even through the audio monitor Jon’s voice was cold, almost aggressive when he addressed Cate. But Danny had also seen other contradictory clues in Jon’s behavior. He noticed that Jon drew in and held his breath for a second every time he prepared to speak to Cate, and his shoulders slumped slightly every time she turned away from him. Jon’s behavior was the very model of physical manifestation of emotional conflict. What the Hell is he doing? Danny wondered. Whatever it is, it’s not helping.

“Jon, you dumbshit,” Danny growled to himself as he flipped the switch for the front bank of lights, plunging the range into darkness.

Standing paces apart, Cate and Jon simultaneously breathed sighs of relief as darkness enveloped them. It was easier to hide in the dark, to keep true emotions under wraps. They stood looking toward each other as their eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, silhouettes and shades of gray swimming into focus.

“We’re going to do alternate light source tactics,” Cate’s voice was level and flat in the darkness. Jon’s eyes moved to her face, her features faintly visible in the dark due to the small amount of light emitted from the control booth above them. His heart clenched as his eyes traced the curve of her cheek down to her chin, then lingered on the shadow of her lower lip. He felt his own expression soften as he gazed at her.

“You awake?” Cate asked coldly. “Or have you decided you’re not going to do this either?”

Her voice shook Jon back to the lesson. He drew in another breath, pulling his resolve back together. If he couldn’t give Cate anything else, he was at least going to give her the out, let her get so pissed at him that her hurt would be overshadowed by her anger. “We’ll see how it goes,” he answered acidly. He heard a little growl rumble from her throat as she swore at him under her breath.

Jon saw Cate’s silhouette move away from him, back to her position on the firing line. She stooped over and retrieved something from her bag, then turned back toward him. Suddenly he was blinded by a bright light shining directly in his eyes. He swore and turned away, grimacing as he squinted his eyes closed and raised a hand to shield his face from the light.

“That’s an alternate light source,” Cate said snarkily. “Otherwise known as a flashlight.” She lowered the beam of light from Jon’s face, then stalked over to him. She stopped a pace in front of him, her torch aiming down toward the ground, and handed him a small maglite. “So far so good?” she taunted him.

“For the moment,” Jon snarked back, taking the light.

Cate took a deep breath and willed herself to be calm. As much as she wanted to get this lesson over with, there was still a considerable amount of training to finish so she couldn’t let Jon push her buttons any more than he already had. “Fine. Let’s begin,” she said evenly.

Cate spent the next fifteen minutes showing Jon how to properly use a flashlight as an aid to tactical movement and defensive firing. Jon found her instruction truly interesting, so he didn’t push at her as she drew him into the lesson. In turn, she relaxed slightly as she demonstrated, then coached him through the tactics.

Jon was surprised how hard it was to aim and fire using the flashlight; he wasn’t surprised that he had not done very well in hitting his target. But at this point it didn’t really matter. After all, he wouldn’t be looking at targets in his movie. All that mattered was that it looked like he knew what he was doing on film.

When they finished that task, Cate took the flashlight from Jon and directed him to stay at his position. He silently complied, wondering what she was doing as she strode away from him, to the opposite end of the platform.

Jon saw a rectangle of light as she opened an exterior door and exited the range building into what looked like an illuminated parking lot. The door swung closed behind her, and Jon looked up at the control booth, confused. He saw Danny looking toward the back of the range, and turned his gaze in that direction.

Jon watched in surprise as a large bay door on the side wall began to rise. As it reached the top of its track, Jon saw a vehicle drive through the opening, the beams of its headlights slicing through the darkness of the range.

Jon’s brow furrowed with curiosity as Cate pulled the big Crown Victoria Police Cruiser across the gravel lanes of the range, angling it toward the targets that Danny had moved downrange to the fifteen-yard mark. She put the car in park, cut the headlights, then activated the cruiser’s light bar. The red and blue lights strobed rapidly in the dark, causing Jon to squint as the flashing assaulted his vision and confused his depth perception.

Leaving the engine running, Cate put the car in park and climbed out of the driver’s seat, leaving the door open. She strode around the back of the cruiser and pulled open the front passenger door, then turned to face Jon. “Time to practice stress-incident shooting,” she announced.

“Most of the time this sort of shooting is going to happen during what we call a ‘High Incident,’ or a law enforcement response that escalates into violence, usually a gunfight.” Cate paused, giving Jon a long look. “You need four mags; two on your belt, two in your pockets. Let’s move. I don’t want to be here all night.”

Jon bristled at her comment. “Neither do I,” he responded flatly. He moved to his position and picked up four full magazines, as she instructed, and secured them on his body. He saw Cate move to her position and load her pockets with fresh magazines, then stand and step toward him.

“First things first. You need to understand how to use a vehicle as cover from fire.” Cate again tried to keep her voice even as she started the lesson. “You may think a car is a big damned thing to hide behind, but it really doesn’t afford you that much protection. There’s a lot of empty space, a lot of glass, that can let a bullet pass right through or bounce around inside.”

She gestured for Jon to follow her and strode back out to the cruiser, stopping beside the front passenger-side fender. “The best part of a vehicle to use as cover is the front end. Not much is gonna get through the engine block. There’s the chance that a round could come under the chassis, bouncing off the ground, but it's not likely that that's gonna happen. Ideally, the officer would cover behind the front wheel, then use the hood as a barrier to fire over.”

Jon watched as Cate drew her weapon, then crouched by the front tire of the cruiser. She pushed up, turning toward the target and extending her arms forward as she aimed. She dropped her head downward as her arms rested on the cruiser’s hood, keeping as much of her body as she could behind the vehicle. Cate fired off four quick rounds, then ducked back behind the cruiser and holstered her weapon. Then she stood.

“Alternately, the officer can seek cover in the passenger compartment if the threat is at the front of the vehicle. The engine block is still between the assailant and the officer, but the officer has to remember to stay down; the enclosed compartment and windows can sometimes provide a false sense of security. The officer could then use the door hinge as a port through which to fire.”

Jon watched silently as Cate moved to the passenger door, ducking briefly into the compartment, then leaning out and aiming her Glock forward, extending the gun through the vee formed by the door joining the vehicle’s chassis. Again she kept her head and body low as she fired off four rounds toward the target. She holstered the Glock then stood and looked at Jon. “Got it?”

“Yep,” Jon answered confidently. He strode forward toward the cruiser, ready to show Cate that he could perform the task.

“Okay,” Cate replied, recognizing his cockiness. “Show me what you got,” she dared him, her tone slightly mocking.

Jon shot her a scowl, hoping she could see him in the strobing glow of the light bar. If she did, she ignored him. He stepped forward and crouched beside the cruiser’s front right-side wheel, as Cate had done.

Cate ducked downward, half-sitting in the cruiser’s passenger seat as she peered through the vee of the door joint at Jon. “Go ahead,” she prodded as he glanced at her as if to ask “ready?”

Jon nodded curtly, then pushed himself up and settled his arms on the cruiser’s hood, aiming at the target as he had watched Cate do. Just as he was ready to pull the trigger, Cate reached over to the cruiser’s center console and hit the siren switch. A loud whoop pierced the night just as Jon fired of his first shot. She saw him visibly jump, then she heard him swear loudly.

“GodDAMNIT, Cate!” Jon yelled. “You about gave me a fucking heart attack!!!” Jon shot Cate a furious glare.

She stared back at him. “The name of this exercise is ‘stress-incident shooting’,” she responded with a snarl. “The point is to get you to function while things are going to shit around you.” Kinda like I’m doing right now, she couldn’t help but think. “When you’re in a nighttime shoot out, there are gonna be lights and sirens and gunfire and screaming and yelling. You have to act without thinking, on instinct. Now try again.”

“Fine,” Jon growled back at her, his teeth clenched together. He would be damned if he was going to let Cate get the better of him on this exercise. He would show her.

Jon took a breath, then again pushed up to fire over the hood of the patrol car. This time Cate hit the siren and let it wail for a full rotation as Jon fired. She cut the siren, then yelled out a cease-fire and directed him to reload, which he smugly did.

Good job, she thought. But she didn’t verbalize her praise. Realizing the cruiser was still running, Cate reached over and turned the key in the ignition, killing the engine. “Now from behind the door,” she ordered, stepping away from the passenger compartment.

Jon shot Cate another glare then stepped in front of her, around the door to take up the position she had just vacated. “What do you want me to do here?” he snapped.

“Same thing I did. You paid attention, didn’t you?” Cate answered acidly. She felt her temper rising again, toward the boiling point. She had really had just about enough of Jon’s petulance.

“Yeah,” Jon answered shortly. He lowered his body behind the cover, awaiting her order to begin the exercise. At least she can’t reach the siren this time, he thought smugly.

“Go,” Cate ordered. As Jon pushed up and took his aim, Cate swiftly drew her own weapon and aimed across the top of the cruiser toward the back of the range, away from the direction Jon was aiming. Waiting until she heard Jon fire his first round, Cate pressed the trigger on her Glock, firing in a quick staccato rhythm as she screamed as loud as she could, expending her entire magazine and her breath.

Since she wasn’t aiming, Cate kept one eye on Jon and watched as he jumped sound of her gunfire and at her banshee wail. She couldn’t help but smirk slightly at his reaction, then quickly corrected her expression, fixing a serious look on her face.

“Jesus FUCKING Christ, Cate!” Jon exploded, dropping his Glock to his side and whirling around to face her. “What the FUCK!?!?!”

“I TOLD you this is stress-incident firing!” Cate snapped back. “So stop being such a fucking whiny Candy-Ass and pull it together! You’re just firing at a fucking target, for Christ’s sake!”

Jon shoved his Glock into its holster and stepped toward Cate, moving so close that she could feel his breath on her face as he glared down at her. “I am NOT a Candy-Ass!” he growled. “And you know what? I HAVE it pulled together. Do it again, and I’ll prove it.”

Cate snorted a laugh at Jon’s melodramatic show of testosterone. “Yeah, Okay,” she replied, glaring back up at his shadowed face. “We’ll do it again. And you’ll still jump, Rookie. ‘Cause you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.” She stepped back from Jon and paused, smirking a little at his challenge. You have NO idea what you’re in for, Jonny Boy….

“Oh yeah?” Jon retorted arrogantly. “Well, bring it ON, Cate. You’re not gonna rattle me again.”

Cate couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Oh, WELL, then!” she replied mockingly. “You want me to bring it on? You have NO idea what you’re asking. But by all means, Your Highness, I’ll try to meet your demands,” she sneered sarcastically. “In just one minute, that is.”

She turned and started to stomp toward the armory, intent on retrieving a few items that would wipe that smug look off his face. When she was done with him, Jon wouldn’t just be ducking from the chaos around him. He would be hiding under the fucking cruiser.

“That’s Your ROYAL Highness!” Jon shouted after her, goading her further. He watched her stalk away from him toward the armory. When she disappeared through the door, Jon growled in frustration.

He moved to the front of the cruiser and leaned back against the fender, wiping his forearm across his moist brow. Realizing just how hot and sweaty he was, Jon tore angrily at the Velcro tabs on his protective vest, ripping them open, then pulling the armor off his torso. He leaned over and tossed the vest into the passenger seat of the cruiser. He didn’t really give a fuck what Cate said; he was going to finish this lesson without that uncomfortable damned vest.

Cate stormed into the armory, striding over to the M-16 locker and quickly dialing the combination on the lock. She pulled a rifle from the rack inside, then turned and dumped it on the cleaning table. Realizing she was burning up with anger and adrenaline, she ripped open the Velcro straps on her vest and tossed it on the table beside the rifle. Then she stomped back to the ammo cage.

She quickly opened that lock as well, and stepped inside. She opened the container that held the M-16 blanks, then hesitated. What the fuck am I doing? She asked herself. Her training was kicking in, reminding her that safety was first and foremost. And one of the biggest rules of handling firearms was to remain cool and collected. That she certainly was not. At least not at the moment.

Cate closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, held it to the count of ten, then slowly blew it out. Relax, she told herself. Calm down. You can still show Jon what’s what. You just need to take a minute first. After all, you don’t really want to hurt him, or yourself.

Cate felt her heart squeeze at that thought. Despite what had happened between them today, Cate knew she could never intentionally hurt Jon, either physically or emotionally. So what the fuck are we doing to each other?

Cate felt tears spring to her eyes at the sudden, unexpected question from her heart. She bit her lip as she stood staring at the armory door, pondering that question. What the fuck am I doing?