MORAL DILEMMA, Ron Feasel [i am reading a book .txt] 📗

retired, why didn’t you stay on?”
“Offered a desk job and I’m not cut out for that, so I took my disability.”
“I could use a man like you, I read from your history where you were a squad leader.”
“Yeah, I’ll miss those guys.”
“I think you would make an excellent detective.”
“Even with my disability?”
“I think your disability would be an advantage.”
“How’s that?”
“For surveillance you would not be suspect, plus with your seal training you would be perfect for the agency.”
“Finally a man with some common sense.”
“A handicap doesn’t necessarily mean a person can’t do a job, it depends on the person.”
“I like your thinking Ron.”
“I want you to meet someone.” Ron called Angie to the office. She was a beautiful blonde, well built, and carried herself with confidence. “Meet my assistant and top notch detective, Angela Papasinsky.”
“Glad to meet you, is this your daughter?”
“Yes.”
As Jack shook her hand it felt strange and her grip was extremely firm. “You have an unusually firm grip.”
She grinned as she pulled off her latex fake covering over her right hand. Underneath was a shiny stainless steel appendage that resembled a well engineered mechanical hand. Jack was mesmerized as he stared at her fascinating hand; it looked like the hand of the terminator in the movie. She wiggled her fingers and then reached and picked up a pen on the desk and wrote her name with the terminator hand.
“Wow!”
“This hand is flexible.”
“I understand now why you’re dad is not inhibited by a disability.”
“Angie is my top associate and supervisor over the other detectives on my staff, and she works in the field.”
“Now I’m impressed,” as he winked at Angie.
“Your wheel chair seems to have some extra attachments and I noticed that the steel caps on the end of your legs have some kind of wheels for mobility.”
“Do you have a gym or workout room in this building?”
“Yes, we have a racquet ball court, weight room, and firing range for the staff in the basement.”
“Lead me to the racquet ball court and I will demonstrate this altered wheel chair.”



The three went downstairs where; they entered the racquet ball court. Jack wheeled to the center of the court and faced Ron and Angie. He pushed a lever, quickly four collapsible stainless steel rods extended at thirty five degree angles from the chair; they rested firmly on the floor creating a solid base to prevent the wheel chair from being toppled.
“Ron, you’re a big man, try to knock me over from all four sides.” Ron tried to but Jack was firmly set.
“Who designed this for you, Jack?”
“I designed and built it.”
“Where did you learn these skills?”
“Before I became a seal I had three years of mechanical engineering in college.”
“That would explain your wheelchair.”
“I love to tinker so I rigged this up.”
“What about those wheels on the end of those caps?”
Jack grinned then pushed himself off the wheel chair and hit the floor roller skating around the court like a kid. Ron and Angie were awed by this ingenuity. “Where did you get the idea to build these?” Ron asked.
“I saw kids with small wheels on the bottom of their running shoes and so I made my own.”
“Why don’t you just forget the wheel chair then?”
“Two reasons, one I’m a tad lazy, and two, I modified this wheel chair so that it can move as fast as kid running.” Jack floored the wheel chair and sped around the court like a demon on fire. “Damn, you’re full of surprises.”
“You want more?”
“By all means”
“You mentioned a firing range, lead me there.”
Ron had installed a one hundred and fifty foot firing range for his detectives too keep them sharp with their handguns. Jack placed himself at the front of the range, there was a paper target at the end of the range, and it was fifty feet from Jack.
Jack reached to his belt on the left side and pushed one of two buttons and a slight click could be heard. He raised his right leg aligning it with the target and pushed a second button four times in rapid succession---bang, bang, bang, bang. The end of his right cap released four nine millimeter bullets creating a neat hole in the head of the target.
The cap was smoking and Jack was grinning. Ron and Christy were stunned at this display and Ron quickly yelled. “Wooweee, show us that device.”
Jack pushed the first button again on his belt, “that’s the safety button on the Sig Saur in the cap.” He wheeled around and reached down and removed the cap revealing the Sig Saur built into the cap with a rod like structure located where the hammer of the pistol normally was located, the rod had a thin wire running up Jack`s leg to the buttons embedded in his belt.
“You’re a dangerous man in that wheelchair.”
“I love to design and build.”
“When can you start?”
Jack hesitated for a moment, this guy is serious and this job might be fun, at least I can use my training; I’ll take it and see how it goes. When do I start?”
“Today if you can?”

“Sure, my wheelchair needs the action.”


CH. 5 JACK AND ANGIE
Jack was hired and he asked Angie out to dinner to get acquainted. They were at a nice restaurant discussing their disabilities.
“I enjoyed that today, watching you was fun.”
“You were handy too.” Jack joked.
They both laughed at the pun.
“How did you lose your legs, if I may ask?”
“It`s ok, I’ll tell you.”
“I was on a night recon with two other seals in Iraq. We were sneaking up on an Iraqi command post at three am Iraqi time.”
The moon cascaded over the dunes and a slight wind would cause sand to spiral up like a mini tornado. It was an ocean of sand stretching forever. The moon made the sand look like grey water rolling in high swells,
“There was a lone guard checking the southern perimeter and I quietly took him out. Then we were moving slowly toward the command post when a squad of six Iraqis appeared over a ridge in the dunes.
We all three hit the sand and lay perfectly still. They didn’t see us but we were about thirty yards in front of them and they were moving toward us. We had to do something quick, I gave the hand command for a pyramid move and then I sprang up and ran horizontally to them to divert their attention. I sprinted for a good seventy five feet as they started firing at me.
They riddled my lower legs with rapid fire and I hit the sand and started firing back. My legs burned from the bullets but the Iraqis had my attention. We now had them in our pyramid formation and my two buddies’ commenced firing. We surprised them in our crossfire and between the three of us we wiped them out. We had radioed in a copter and were rescued and returned to base, my legs were demolished.”
“That was close, but your legs.”
“Shit happens, what about you? Tell me about your hand.”
“We were chasing a bail bond jumper in a dark alley when I tripped and I put out my hands to catch my fall, my left hand hit a broken beer bottle that was sitting upright with the jagged edges; I sliced my left hand and cut my wrist so bad my hand was just dangling. My partner rushed me to the emergency room, they tried to reattach it but it didn’t take.
So I lost my left hand and after the stump healed a friend of dad designed an artificial hand. Not as life threatening as your story, I’ll hand you that.”
“What about your family?”Angie said.
“Lost my parents in a car wreck, then shortly after that I joined the Navy.”
“Any siblings?”
“No, just me.”
“You miss the action in the Navy?”
“Yeah, it’s in my blood.”
“Do you think you`ll like this type of work?”
“Better than a regular job, for sure.”
“Do your legs ever hurt?”
“Yes, sometimes they get to itching and ache.”
“My wrist aches sometimes but it goes away.”
“At least we both function well, a lot of people with our disabilities aren’t as fortunate.”
“Have you met the other two associates with us?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll introduce you tomorrow, there’s Will Farrow and Andrew Clemmer, both good men. Will is a retired detective and Andy is learning the ropes like you. Will retired from the San Francisco Police Department and Andy wants to be a crime fighter, both are good associates and can be trusted.”

“Tomorrow then.”


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Publication Date: 12-21-2009

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