The Chase

Chapter 2

Wednesday December 21st. Noon.

Three hundred yards down cracked pavement filled with potholes, Wilma parked near the entrance to the Police Athletic Association. Scarlett and Wilma got out to the unfamiliar pop-pop sound of discharging guns and the barking of large K-9 dogs. Scarlett had no idea what she got herself into. All she knew is this is the first time in protecting herself. "Scarlett? Are you coming?" Wilma asked.

Scarlett nodded. Wilma led Scarlett into the concrete building, the office of the Athletic Association. Like some of the shooting ranges, it has narrow drive in an industrial area thirty-five minutes south of downtown Toronto.

The man behind the counter greeted Wilma by her first name, and Wilma made the introduction for Scarlett. "Scarlett, this is Trigger Diaz. She'll need eye and ear protection, and would need a target, a few boxes of ammo, and a roll of tape. This is her first time at a shooting range."

Trigger smiled. "Training to become apart of the police athletic or qualification test?" he said, turning his attention to Scarlett. While waiting on the response he asked, he handed them the eye and ear protection, a few boxes of ammo, and a roll of tape.

Scarlett shook her head, looking down at the wooden beaten up floor with bullet holes. "Learning how to protect myself. If I ever come across danger or be in a situation that I would need to protect myself from."

"Ah, I see. Man, I was wrong. I'll be teaching you how to shoot. You're in good hands, Scarlett," Trigger smiled at Scarlett.

He pulled a box of ammunition and protective glasses off the shelves and hooks behind the counter for himself. "Wilma, are you going to watch or shoot today?" he asked, holding the box of ammunition in one hand and the protective glasses in the other hand. "If you ever need to talk with the captain of the Violent Crime Section, let me or Wilma know and we'll point you to him."

"The captain?"

"Detective Captain Bournet," Trigger said. "Do you need the captain?"

Scarlett shook her head. "No. I was just wondering."

Trigger turned his brown eyes towards Wilma. "You going to shoot or watch today?" He said to Wilma.

"Going to watch," Wilma said, looking out the window and staring at the people discharging their guns against the targets, that was ten feet away from where they stood behind a yellow line, and a wide open field in the back of the torn up and duct taped targets, along with a layer of marine fog that colored the stanchion lights a sickly green.

"Trigger, what's your best qualifying score?" Wilma asked.

"Two ninety."

"Where'd you learn to shoot? That's a perfect score compare to mine, sir."

"At the age of thirteen, I did a lot of shooting competitions. It was a family thing. My brothers and I were judged on speed and accuracy. It's just like anything you do; if you want to do it perfect, have to work at it nonstop. There is a reason for everything people do or wants to do."

"At thirteen? that is impressing to know," Wilma said.

"You ready to learn how to shoot a gun?" Trigger asked to Scarlett.

Scarlett slid the ears protection down to her ears and then slid the eyes protection over eyes, covering her green eyes. "I'm ready."

"Learning how to shoot a gun is like learning how to walk or talk. There are steps to know how to shoot," he said, sliding the ear protections over his ears and the glasses over his eyes for protection.