the Road to Pay Dirt - Chapter 11

   Speedy and Panic looked done…

   "You know your property better than we do, George. Backdrop, is worrying about where the round goes if you don't hit your target, or, it goes through. Some kind of hill is best. Keep an eye on us, keeping backdrop in mind. You'll know better what direction your house or barn is than we will."

   "How far do you guys wanna shoot?"

   Speedy shrugged…

   "A hundred yards, to get warmed up. Figured we could start backing up after that. Not much wind this morning out here… not too hot yet today, I don't think mirage will be more than a light boil. Panic?"

   "Decent day…"

   "You two always run around with a trunk full of long range shooting gear… and night vision?"

   "Well, when we're not investigating? We both like shooting. We only know each other and met, because of a shooting website. If we didn't run across you? We would have found somewhere on the way back to shoot so it wasn't a total wasted trip."

   "You're both gun nuts?"

   They both smiled back.

   Panic wondered…

   "We taking separate vehicles?"

   "George, you wanna take us in your truck? I don't have much clearance in my cruiser."

   George nodded. Speedy and Panic transferred bags and cases from the trunk of Speedy's car to the truck bed. The rifle cases went in the truck with them, however.

   "There's a hill out the back end, behind the barn. Gotta be almost a thousand yards to the hill, I really don't know. Just a hay field, and goes up a hill at the end."

   On the drive out to the barn, Panic observed the grass outside.

   "Speedy? I'm imagining this place, after the first mow. I just know there's groundhogs out there… am I right, George?"

   "Oh yeah. Grandpa had livestock and horses and all that. Animals can break a leg in the holes, you gotta clean 'em out to have animals whether you mind them or not."

   Speedy asked…

   "You mind the groundhogs, George?"

   "I don't have animals like grandpa did, remember the yotes and everything else eats me out of house and home. That said, the wife's garden? Free vegetables? Groundhogs and rabbits and deer and every damn thing else act like its a buffet. I honestly don't care what you guys wanna kill. All the wildlife is eating into my pocketbook."

   "And… wild pigs… don't forget the wild pigs, George."

   "You guys are happy about the wild pigs? Farmers hate the damned things."

   Speedy had to turn his head to see Panic in the back seat, who started rattling off idly…

   "Free pork steaks, free pork chops. Free loin roasts. Free rump roasts. Free whole hog roast on a spit… free whole roasted piglet… free breakfast sausage… free hot sausage… free sweet sausage… free garlic sausage… free ground pork…"

   George laughed…

   "Okay. You guys shoot and hunt, so… you like game meat."

   Speedy countered…

   "You said you do fish, and you Kentucky fried our rabbits very well… you're no slouch…"

   "Aw, it's a bait shop. The locals give me fish if they don't want them. I'm known to hand out a frosty mug of that dark beer and bullshit with them if it's a nice haul for one of my freezers back there. I got more shit than I could ever eat in the freezers. The boys give me deer meat, pig meat, catfish… you name it. I thank them and throw it in the freezer."

   Panic was interested…

   "You… have a lot of catfish?"

   "Why? You like catfish? Eat it till you puke… my one boy likes small ones, the big ones are all yours…"

   Speedy chuckled and Panic continued…

   "What about… the deer and the pig…"

   "…and the squirrels and the rabbits? I even got a big frozen pack of something called barbecued coon. Raccoon, I would guess. Guy acted like it was something special… me? I just smiled all friendly like. Threw it in the freezer."

   "Your wife and kids don't eat it?"

   "The boys like a few things. The wife mainly likes to cook with the deer ground meat. Anything that takes a lot of ground meat? Chili, stroganoff, lasagna… stuff like that."

   "The rest goes to waste?"

   "No… why throw it out? Remember, I wanna be a 'swell guy' with the cops and the hunters… me and the wife will have a BBQ. I bring a keg of beer out, and I hand out packs of the game meat. The boys all go crazy and argue about who's cooking what, what seasoning… then I hand out wine and booze. Everyone just loves me."

   George smiled into the rear view mirror.

   "Plus, I trade everything. Just like grandpa did. Extra eggs? Wife gets a big bag of flour or sugar or bread crumbs or whatever else she needs for home cooking. Me? I need a lot of sugar, some yeast. Old bruised fruits of any kind."

   "One of our shooting boys, makes his own wine. He makes… wine like you get in the store. Has his own labels and all that. You two will get along, I'm sure."

   "Oh yeah… What's his name?"

   "We call him Skykid."

   "I think Skykid will have fun taking a tour of my barn… Okay now, here's the barn coming up… you guys said you wanna head towards the hill, your… backdrop. Right?"

   George made his way to the hill, and stopped a little ways off. Speedy got out, and pulled up a rangefinder…

   "110 yards. Fine…"

   Speedy and Panic hopped out, looked around. Looked back to the barn, which was a good ways off. They smiled at each other.

   Panic asked if there was anything about the location…

   "Elevation? Humidity?"

   Speedy had another handheld electronic gizmo out.

   "Elevation… is pretty close to your house, Panic. Humidity… nothing major. Wind seems… steady. A mile or two. Almost right to left."

   Panic went and flipped his day rifle case open. Speedy did as well. Panic flipped his bipod out, and spread out a thin soft roll-up covered in dark canvas, as did Speedy.

   Panic got out targets, and Speedy took out a metal pole of some kind, and a small hammer. They both walked out, and George tagged along. They both had their bolts out of their guns and into their pockets.

   Panic stopped. Speedy eyed him. Panic said…

   "Range is cold!"

   Speedy and Panic both chuckled and continued walking out lazily to the hill. George seemed idly amused to see Speedy pound the small metal spike into the ground. Flipped out two other smaller metal spikes that had clips on them. Panic's targets fit the clips, and they had targets up. They walked back and once again George tagged along trailing behind.

   "Mind if I ask why you guys have your bolts out of your guns?"

   Speedy replied it was standard safety at a "real range". George nodded. Panic asked if the locals shooting did anything like that, and George shook his head "no". Speedy said no disrespect, but if they wanted to shoot with "his boys", they would start.

   Speedy and Panic both got out electronic ear muffs and put batteries in them. Speedy had an extra pair for George he handed to him. Speedy and Panic were talking a little, and George kept lifting his one ear muff off to hear them.

   Speedy turned the knob on George's pair already on his head with a soft click, and George's face lit up when he realized he could now hear everything clearly.

   Speedy indicated an imaginary line behind the shooting mats…

   "George? Do not cross this line when the range is hot. This is the shooting line… okay?"

   George nodded. Panic announced…

   "Range is HOT!"

   They both dropped down and got into their comfortable shooting positions laying down. George saw they each had vastly different ways of handling their guns. Speedy looked… George thought more traditional. Panic had a weird thing going on. He had his cheek off the gun, and his head pulled back far from the scope. Speedy had a hand around the gun like normal. Panic was only "pinching" the trigger when he got near it. Panic, he realized, had nothing of his own body touching the gun at all, in any way, as compared to Speedy.

   About the only things they did the same? Both used a bipod, and both arranged their free hand in a similar fashion. Everything else about their styles, was completely different.

   Then the firing began. Speedy watched through the scope for Panic, who would "pinch" the trigger with his index finger on the trigger and his thumb behind the trigger guard. Which George found weird.

   Panic adjusted elevation of his gun by fussing with a little bag he moved up and down the angled butt of his stock; Speedy used his forearm to lay on for a bag.

   After five shots, they reversed. Speedy fired while Panic watched through the scope for him, returning the favor. They took their bolts up after Speedy's five shots. They walked out and checked their targets.

   They compared targets and replaced them with new. Panic had a slightly smaller group, but, not by any big margin. A dime covered Panic's 5 shots, and Speedy needed a penny.

   Speedy gave a running intermittent voice-over…

   "Panic shoots more like a benchrester. You see his odd bench style, even though we're shooting prone. He has a wee bit better grouping than me, when we're face to face like this, under 200 yards. After 3 or 4 hundred? My groups tend to be better."

   George asked "why"… Speedy smiled, and Panic answered for him…

   "Because… after that? The wind is enough of a factor. Speedy's way better at reading the wind. Conditions are sweet enough today, it won't be a huge issue for a couple hundred more yards, I get to show off more than usual. But, once things really get going… with any kind of wind? Speedy's the man."

   They got back and moved everything back another 100 yards. At 200 yards, another 5 shots each. Then they changed targets, and hung two empty milk jugs from strings on the far left and right of the target cross braces, one for each.

   At 200, the targets were still in Panic's slight favor.

   At 300 though, the targets were almost even.

   At 400, Two things happened. George offered to drive them out and back each time to change targets. And? Speedy's target took the ever so slight edge by being a hair smaller.

   At 500… things were clearly more in Speedy's favor, and Panic sighed. George smiled, it would be like that the rest of the way out, he figured.

   At 550, Speedy had a much more commanding lead. His margin grew a lot between 500 and 550. Panic was starting to widen his groups out in a thin line left to right.

   "Wind…", was all Speedy said of it when changing targets.

   At 600, Panic took a few shots, and gave up after he finally hit the far left edge of the target. Speedy took his five. Waiting much longer between shots. Looking around.

   "He's reading the wind, George… it's his gift from the shooting gods. I call him the Wind Whisperer."

   Speedy then told Panic…

   "Okay, you're still on paper. I'll call your last three shots…"

   Panic got ready to shoot, but didn't. Speedy watched through his scope, and gave a running commentary…

   "8 inches to the right… hold… hold… fire… hold… fire… fire… fire…"

   Panic finally fired. This went on for the next two shots. He would only pull the trigger when Speedy was saying "fire… fire…" slowly. Any "hold" command, and he waited.

   When they drove out the next time, Speedy commented on Panic's target…

   "These two shots were his own. Here? He held into the wind that wasn't there yet… here? He did the opposite. Almost blown off the paper. These three? Are the three I spotted for him…"

   Those three shots? Looked almost as good as Speedy's group of five he called for himself.

   George looked at both of them.

   "I thought Panic was a slightly better shot…"

   "He is, but only in close. The further we back off, the higher the wind gets, the more the wind switches and gusts… the more trouble he gets into."

   Panic smiled and sighed…

   "After a certain distance? I'm worthless without Speedy calling for me. With him calling for me? I can almost keep up with the big boys. Not quite, but… almost."

   Speedy shot 5 shot groups at 650. Then 700. He was still on paper. Panic had quit shooting.

   They then backed up to what Panic called "the full Monty". Close to the barn was 800 yards. Finally, Speedy announced he was going to try to "call" the milk jugs. He called the milk jug on the right. Took him a minute or two to fire, but when he did, the milk jug reacted and danced. Then, he did the same to the milk jug on the left.

   They drove out. Speedy had nipped the milk jugs barely. But he had hit them.

   "I was pushing it, and conditions are pretty good. At 1000, when I'm practicing or competing? I get a much larger target…"

   Panic observed…

   "Speedy? If George allows, we could make piles of dirt, so the boys can use dirt splashes to get on paper…"

   George shrugged.

   "There's an old wheel loader here that runs decent. A couple gallons of diesel and I can make you as big a pile of dirt as you boys would need… doesn't really cost me anything…"

   Panic was smiling…

   "What do you think, George?"

   George was smiling.

   They had George drive them out to the targets, and all three walked back about 20 yards. They had George stand behind them.

   "Call it, Panic…"

   But nothing happened. George and Panic and Speedy were bullshitting idly, when Panic's voice cut in urgently.

   "GO!"

   Speedy smoothly turned and drew his Glock and started firing. He walked to the target while still firing. When his clip emptied half way to it, he smoothly and without any break simply snapped another clip in so fast it was ridiculous and continued firing until he was a few feet from the target, full of holes, with a definite preference for the middle.

   Speedy held the paper target up to his chest, to demonstrate its effectiveness.

   "I shoot like this for work."

   Panic demonstrated his "speed draw". The way he had his handgun butt forward, tilted down, was way different than Speedy's horizontal behind the back belt rig.

   Panic dangled his hand near his gun. Waiting.

   When Speedy said "go", it was a flash. The gun seemed to almost appear in Panic's hand, and he could fire from the hip.

   Panic almost sheepishly admitted…

   "He's better under pressure. Multiple targets. Me? If someone's standing close, and suddenly there's a problem… I get that first close shot off before they can get their gun up."

   George was still smiling…

   "Why the different shooting styles?"

   Panic admitted…

   "He's a cop. He's an IDPA competitor… me? I'm a delivery driver carrying money. If something were to happen? It would be quick and out of nowhere… so, I got the quick draw for close in and personal where I can't miss."

   Speedy told him…

   "Go on, I just know you're itching to show off your knee drop trick."

   They backed off to about forty yards, which was fairly long for traditional pistol practice.

   Panic on "GO!" signal, would instantly drop to one knee, resting his elbow on the other knee, gun already up. His one shot, was on paper at 40 yards. It looked like he just "fell" into this position.

   He didn't stand up afterwards; he quickly sat down, and used his knee as a rest… the rest of his shots were slow aimed fire that were not great groups, but all on paper.

   Then, he backed up to the full 50 yards, and did the same performance.

   Speedy admitted…

   "He's got that knee drop trick down pat. At 50 yards, he can drop and fire and the first shot is amazingly accurate. Then, sitting and resting off his knee? It's all on a man's chest."

   They had walked back, and Panic held the targets up on his chest to show all the holes were man chest sized. Wiggling his eyebrows to show he was proud of it.

   George wanted to know… why Speedy didn't have those tricks…

   "Because Speedy has it drilled into him, to only shoot properly. Because Speedy has years of footwork, and can maneuver around without worrying about tripping, from experience."

   Panic kept it going…

   "Because Speedy, can only shoot from approved positions. If 'Lightning Ranch' doesn't approve? Speedy doesn't get a gold star."

   "Ha ha, Panic, you know you want a piece of paper saying you passed Lightning Ranch's course number one…"

   "I do… I just don't necessarily wanna re-learn how to shoot, and I like my slow aimed fire at distance, with a handgun."

   Speedy cut back in…

   "Panic has a bolt action pistol, that he can hit a deer or a man from, at 100 yards. It's at his house though. We gotta save something to impress you with next time, George."

   George smiled from ear to ear…

   "I'm impressed. When does your crew get here?"

   Speedy and Panic just smiled, and Panic answered for the both of them…

   "A couple of minutes online? I bet… within a week they start popping in and out, to be honest."