Being at One - Part 2

Being at One
Part 2
by Alisa Joaquin

"Sir?" The Firing Range Officer entered the Dean's office. "I think we may have a problem."

"What is it, Stevenson?"

"Take a look at this."

The Dean took the target sheet from Officer Stevenson. "So, what is it am I supposed to be looking at?"

"That target is supposed to belong to one of the new cadets that started fire arms training today." The officer also handed the Dean a manila folder.

The Dean blue through his teeth, whistling out his amazement, then handed the target back to Officer Stevenson. "I don't see what the problem is, so the student has handled a gun before."

"I spoke with the student, sir. He said it was the first time he's ever fired a gun."

"So, some students are naturals at it."

"But not as good as that. There's more, too. You know I always put one faulty gun in the range at random to see if the students will pick up on it. The first time they don't. A few pick up on the gun the second time around. But this student picked it up the first time and knew the gun was faulty. How do you explain that?"

"That can't be right. Who is this student?"

"His name's Peter Caine, sir. You have his file there."

"Tell him I want to see him in my office."

"Yes, sir."

Fifteen minutes later, a young uniformed cadet nervously entered the Dean's office. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"You're Cadet Caine?"

"Yes, sir?"

The Dean stared at the young man for a moment or so. From what the range officer had said about the man he was expecting someone older, perhaps someone who had been in the military, but this kid looked no more to be 19 or 20. He was still a kid as far as he could see, young enough to be barely out of high school and yet old enough to be called a man. After a moment more, the Dean held up the target sheet for the young man to see. The Dean observed that the young man did not seem surprised by the score that he had made. "Care to explain this?"

"I . . . I . . . just fired and that's how they came out."

"No one does this on the first try. You've had to have some kind of training with a weapon to be able to accomplish this."

Peter found himself thinking about what his father had said to him when he took him out from the temple into the snow with his archery equipment.

"It was as if I was one with my weapon," he replied.

"I don't understand, explain," the Dean demanded, trying to see if the young man was pulling his leg and if he might have a ringer in his midst.

"It was something my father taught me."

Looking down at the young man's records, "Paul Blaisdell? He's the Captain at the 101st Precinct."

"No, sir, I mean yes, sir."

"Well which is it?"

"No, sir he's not my father. He's my foster father and yes, he is the Captain at the 101st."

The Dean frowned at the young cadet's words. "Answer me straight. Have you every shot a gun before?"

"No, sir, but . . . "

"But what?" The Dean was beginning to lose his patience.

"I've shot an arrow, sir."

"An arrow. Do tell Cadet."

Peter blushed with embarrassment at the Dean's scrutiny. He felt like he was back at the orphanage and being examined like a bug under a microscope. If he told the Dean what he knew he wasn't certain he would understand.

"I'm waiting. Please, enlighten me."

Peter took in a deep breath and the words soon poured out. "And my father said if you are always one with your target you will always hit the mark."

The Dean shook his head. He had heard every explanation and excuse in the world, but never like this.

"Sir, am I in trouble?"

"No, young man, but I am certain you're going to wish you had been after this. What you just told me is a little hard to believe, but after seeing this," the Dean pointed to the target, "No one is going to question your abilities again. You better get to your classes."

"Yes, sir."

As the Dean watched the young cadet close the door. He picked up the target and looked at the score the young man had accomplished in so short a time, the first time. "Kid, if you can maintain this throughout the academy, you're going to be one of the finest police officers this city has ever seen."

The End

This story cannot be reprinted or sold in any other form without strict permission from the author. It is being distributed here solely for your enjoyment.

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