A Tommy Logan Story

by Darren D. Lee

  He shook his head for a moment before he opened his newspaper back up. “Training Agent. Your office is two doors down.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Just get out.”

  I left his office. I wasn’t sure if I had just negotiated some kind of peace between us or made an enemy. It really didn’t matter, I always did things by the book… Mostly. He wouldn’t be able to touch me, or so I thought. Once I reached my office I sat down and logged into the ASA intranet. I pulled up training records. It was unbelievable how incompetent the last training agent was. It had been well over a year since there was weapons qualification. Longer since an actual class on any sort of procedure was performed. The rosters were just signed off on like they attended the class. First thing I decided to do was run the whole agency through weapons qualification.

  It took damn near all day to send out all the e-mails, notifying agents to report to the weapons range. All in a day’s work, I guess. After lighting a smoke in my driveway, I decided to give Sara a call.

  It rang a few times before she answered. “Hey,” she said. “How was your first day?”

  “I’m still a little pissed.”

  “It went that good, huh?”

  I let out a sigh. I wouldn’t say it went as bad as it could have, but she was right – it was pretty bad. “Could have been worse.”

  “From how you sound, I’m not so sure.”

  “He’s not dead.”

  “Good point. I’d hate for them to kill you over some jerk.”

  “Yeah, I’d rather not go out that way.”

  She laughed a bit. “Let me guess, more of the ‘go down in flames’ type.”

  “Absolutely. Got to be exciting.”

  “So, you sent Shey shopping?” she asked.

  This caught me off guard. I hadn’t talked to Sara today and I sure hadn’t told her about Shey going shopping. “What? How—”

  “Shey told me earlier,” she interrupted. “Apparently she stole my number out of your phone while you were asleep. She sent me a couple texts then called me. We talked for a few hours I bet.”

  I could feel my cheeks turning red at that point. There was no telling what Shey had told her. I did have some rather embarrassing stories that I tried to keep buried in the past. “What did she have to say?”

  Sara giggled, then snickered, and finally snorted from laughter. “You sure you want to know?”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so. Not after hearing you laugh like that. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you snort.”

  “Well, she did tell me about a bus trip during your freshman year.”

  “Dammit… I’m going to kick her ass all over this place when she gets home.”

  “Don’t be so hard on her. She’s sweet and I really like her.”

  I took a breath, rolling my eyes. “Yeah she has her moments but most of the time she’s about as sweet as vinegar.”

  “Shut up, she isn’t that bad. I can already tell.”

  I chuckled a bit. I was glad Sara liked her; I had hoped she would. “And how can you tell she isn’t that bad?”

  Sara began speaking in a smug voice, “Well, after our conversation, she texted me saying she approved and wanted little cousins.”

  “Christ.”

  Sara burst out laughing. She gave herself a few moments to get the laughter out of her system. “Yeah, that’s a little too fast for me, but you have to admit we’d make some good looking kids.”

  “Yeah, if they take after me,” I joked.

  “You ass,” she snapped, trying to hold back her laughter.

  Before I could reply, I heard a beep on the line. I looked at the phone and it was Shey calling. “Babe, I’ll call you back. Shey is on the other line.”

  “Alright, miss you!”

  “Miss you too.” I switched to the other line with Shey, a bit agitated at her. “I’m going to beat your ass all over this place when you get home.”

  Shey immediately burst out laughing. “I take it you talked to Sara? I really like her!”

  “So I’ve heard. First, you eavesdrop every chance you get, now your stealing numbers out of my phone?”

  She giggled more. “It’s no big deal. Lighten up.”

  “Freshman year wasn’t a big deal, either.”

  “Shit, I told her not to tell you!”

  “She did.”

  “I don’t like her as much now.” Shey paused for a few moments before her voice exploded with excitement. “Guess what I got!”

  “What?”

  “Well, first I got like seven new outfits. Shoes to go with each one. A lot of awesome makeup. A minifridge. I was going to get that cheap beer you mentioned, but I’m still underage… So, you’ll have to get that for me.”

  I took a deep breath. I couldn’t help but think that those outfits were a couple hundred apiece… But if it made her feel better, no harm. “What else did you get?”

  “Don’t get mad… But I got a TV.”

  “A TV? Why would I get mad about that?”

  “It was seven hundred dollars…”

  “Holy shit… I’m not mad… But how big of a T.V. did you get?”

  “It’s only thirty-two inches.”

  “Why in the hell was it so much, then?”

  Shey took a deep breath, ready to explain her purchase to me. “Well, it’s one of those nifty curved screens that helps with glare. The lighting behind the screen is supposed to reduce eye strain a whole lot and it has all these nifty apps where I can watch everything through the net.”

  “You’re going to be watching enough TV at college to worry about eye strain?”

  “Well, you never know. Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.”

  I shook my head. I was a bit irritated looking back. Now, I wish I could have that conversation over and over. So I could just laugh with her and not care. “Be careful coming home.”

  “I will, I’m in Richlands. Bye, love you!”

  “Love you, too.”

  What I wouldn’t give to go back and maybe walk away from all this. This town, the ASA, pretty much the whole pile of shit I was about to step in.

  August 15th, 2025

  Morning fog lay heavily on the mountain while my baby grumbled up the winding road. It was just past six with weapons qualification slotted for a report time of seven. I figured just more than a half hour would be sufficient to run a check on the equipment. Despite not being used near as often as it should have been, range equipment is pretty durable. The ASA used stuff that was similar to the military’s; it could take some abuse and neglect.

  The range was on Keen Mountain. The site was once a park but had been bought out and repurposed some years ago. I pulled into the parking lot to see that someone had already shown up. It was a grayish-blue Chevy sedan. The Chevy’s door slowly opened to reveal Ron Scott while I parked. I stepped out of my vehicle, looking at him; his eyes full of sleep. “Morning, Ronnie.”

  “Mornin’ Tommy.”

  “You’re early,” I stated.

  Ronnie gave a hesitant and groggy chuckle before he approached me. “Eh, figured you might use a hand checkin’ stuff out. Lord knows ain’t nobody else gonna be eager to help.”

  I laughed. He was right. I had never felt such hostility in a workplace. Hell, I did my best not to speak to anybody but Ronnie. Maybe I deserved it… I did ride in raising hell and undermining everybody in my path. “Yeah, I get the feeling I’m not too well liked.”

  “Don’t sweat them assholes. Been quite a while since we did things by the book and people are just on edge around you.”

  “They should be.”

  “To be quite honest, I’m enjoyin’ watchin’ them squirm.”

  Ronnie always did lighten my mood up. One of my oldest friends. I hate that he had to pick up and leave, but we’ll get to that. I walked past Ronnie and opened the door to the tower. We climbed the metal stairs, Ronnie lagging behind. “Better wake up, Ronnie. You’ll need to be alert if
you’re going to hit those pop-ups.”

  “You worry about makin’ the damn things pop up. I’ll worry about makin’ them fall down, okay?”

  “Did somebody forget their coffee this morning?”

  “Shit, coffee? Ain’t got time for that with a screamin’ baby. Had to get out of there as quick as I could.”

  I laughed at him while unlocking the control room door. We entered the dark room lit only by the dim morning light through the large windows overseeing the range. “I’m guessing your wife just loves you cuttin’ tail and running, huh?”

  “Cuttin’ tail? ‘Bout time you started talkin’ like the rest of us Appalachian Americans.” Ronnie paused for a few, chuckling. He flipped the light switch; then flipped it over and over when nothing happened. “Guess the breaker is kicked.”

  I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight, searching the room for the breaker box. “Really has been a while since you guys used this place.”

  “I reckon so,” he answered.

  “Any idea where the box is?”

  “Not a clue, Tommy. This is the first time I’ve actually been in the tower.”

  “Well, shit.” I looked around the room, finally deducing that the box wasn’t there. “Must be downstairs.”

  Ronnie turned toward the door. “I’ll go find it.”

  I sat down at the control panel. Nothing digital was present, all mechanical. Individual switches for each pop-up, a master switch to pop them all up, and a cycle switch to run through the qualification cycle. A few moments later the lights on the control panel lit up, as well as the overhead light.

  “Found it!” shouted Ronnie.

  “Good job, now get your ass back up here!”

  The sound of his steps echoed up the stairwell. He entered the room to see me sitting at the control panel. “Everything lookin’ good?”

  “We’re about to find out.” I flipped on the loudspeaker. “Testing, check, check, check.” My words could be heard across the range. I looked down range at each berm. The grass was a little high but the targets would easily be visible so no problem. I figured I’d just find a shit bag agent and task him or her a lawn maintenance detail later. “Loudspeaker is good. Let’s see if the targets work.” I flipped the master switch, and sure enough, the targets popped up. To be sure, I grabbed the binoculars and investigated closer. The right fifty-meter target was only half way up. “Fuck.”

  “What is it?” asked Ronnie.

  “Damn fifty-meter is stuck.” I flipped the switch a few times, the target getting stuck each time. “Yep, stuck.”

  “Stay put,” said Ron. “I’ll go check it out.”

  I looked at the range. I was kind of dreading it to be honest. In the military, we had multiple lanes on each range. We could cycle through plenty of people at one time. There were also computers to register hits on each target. Here, I had a light for each target. Since some targets would pop multiple times in a sequence, I couldn’t just wait until the end to record results, had to record them while it was happening. We seriously needed an upgrade. I watched Ron approach the target. He started pulling some weeds loose from behind the berm. Ron waved up at me, so I hit the switch. The target popped up fully.

  After a sigh of relief, I descended the tower. Ron caught up with me about the time I reached the trunk of my car. “Good job,” I said.

  “Damn weeds thick as all hell back there.”

  “Bunch of shit,” I grumbled, popping my trunk. Inside lay an ammo crate with thirty magazines. Three for each agent going through qualifying. One mag had twenty rounds, and the following two had ten each. I lifted up the crate and made my way to the range. “Agents should start showing up soon. Do me a favor?”

  “What’s that, Tommy?”

  “Go up in the tower and run through each cycle. The switches are labeled cycle one, two, and three. The first cycle should have twenty targets pop, the second and third will have ten.”

  “Easy enough,” replied Ronnie.

  I walked over to the bleachers, a table was laying on the ground underneath just for this occasion. The legs creaked into position as I set the table up and wiped the dirt and grime off its surface. I made three stacks of magazines. One for the twenty count, and two for each ten count. I could hear the targets popping up and laying down a few seconds later as Ronnie ran through each cycle. I retrieved a box of ear protection from my passenger seat. Agents were required to bring their own, but some jackasses always forgot their shit or thought they were badasses and feared no hearing damage. I didn’t let that fly on my watch.

  Ten ‘til seven. That’s what my phone read. I sat down on the rickety bleachers, Ron approaching me and sitting beside me. The fog was lifted from the range and the sun pierced through the tree line. “Where the hell is everybody?” I asked.

  “Probably gonna be late.”

  “And why would they be late?”

  “They ain’t takin’ this, or you serious.”

  I took a deep breath. Frustrated. “And why the hell not?”

  “Ain’t nobody cares about trainin’ and such I don’t guess.”

  “Well, they’re about to.”

  A few moments later the clack of a diesel engine approached. I turned to see a lifted Ford truck. Every piece of trim on this thing was covered in chrome. It had huge mud tires and obviously expensive chrome wheels. “Who’s that?”

  “That’d be Agent James Ratliff.”

  I thought for a few moments about the Agent roster and who he was. The name was familiar but I had difficulty remembering his details. “What’s his rank?”

  “Senior Agent. Like me.”

  “Senior Agent? So he makes around fifty grand a year, huh?”

  “Give or take.”

  “Then how does he afford a truck that costs more than what he makes in a year? Without the modifications.”

  Ronnie shrugged. “Beats me, priorities and debt I guess. His kids probably wear rags. Wife probably hates him. But he is one of Robins’ favorites, so nobody even asks probably.”

  That didn’t sit well with me. If this guy had a wife and kids, how could he afford that thing? Maybe he got some kind of inheritance… Maybe he won the lottery or some shit. I shook it off as he approached, his rifle in hand. “Good morning, Agent.”

  “You must be Logan,” replied Ratliff.

  I studied him for a few moments. His hair was neat and face clean shaven. His black fatigues were neat and fit for duty. Ratliff was a bit out of shape though… Well, he was fat. Double chin and all. God forbid he’d have to chase somebody because he wouldn’t get too far. “I am,” I answered.

  “With all due respect,” he said. “I’ve got to say this is a bit ridiculous. Dragging us out here at seven in the mornin’.”

  I chuckled a bit. He was going to be a handful; I could already tell. Ratliff wouldn’t get any sort of favoritism from me. “Well, Agent. The only shame I see is the lack of lighting here. If we had some lights down range, I would’ve had us out here at four am sharp.”

  “I guess that is a shame,” grumbled Ratliff.

  “Have a seat. We’ll begin the brief once everyone decides to show up.”

  Ratliff walked off, grumbling to himself. He sat down on the opposite ends of the bleachers from Ronnie and I. Ronnie tugged at my shirt, leaning towards my ear. “He’s just pissy that this is his day off. Lucky bastard gets every Friday off,” he whispered.

  “Because he’s a favorite?” I quietly asked.

  “Probably. Just be glad Wilson ain’t gonna be here. They’re big buddies and would probably give you a world of shit.”

  “What’s his rank?”

  “He’s a Sergeant… Favorite also.”

  “That shit isn’t going to fly very far with me,” I replied, lightly smirking. I enjoyed putting complacent fucks back in their place.

  “Robins give you any info on your sister’s case yet?”

  “Not yet. I’m getting impatient.”

  Ronnie slowly sh
ook his head, letting out a sigh. “I would be too. Something just don’t feel right about all this. I got a pretty good bullshit detector.”

  “Me too…” I paused for a moment, not sure what else to say. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle him.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for him, I’ll tell you that much.”

  About that time, I could hear more vehicles approaching. “Here they come, and only ten minutes late. Guess I better get started.”

  Fifteen or so minutes later, everybody had shown up. Mostly male, but a couple females were on the roster for today. I looked at everybody chatting and conversing, each with their weapons in hand. “Fall in!” I commanded. Some rushed to form up, others took their time… Which was annoying. They finally formed one rank. I stood there, inspecting them. Their weapon’s stocks resting on the ground at their right side, the muzzle held by their right hand. At least they hadn’t forgotten basic drill and ceremony. “Today we will be performing weapons qualification. You are required to hit twenty-eight of the forty targets to be considered proficient with your rifle.”

  “Sir?” spoke a female Agent. “Why aren’t we qualifying with our pistols?”

  This irritated me. They were at the order arms position and could only speak when directly addressed. I approached the agent, looking down into her eyes. She was a good deal shorter than I. “Why did you speak?”

  “Sir? I don’t—”

  “You are at the position of order arms. That is the same as the position of attention!” I bellowed at her. After taking a breath, I returned to the front and center of the formation. “Surely you all haven’t forgotten basic drill and ceremony? Or maybe you have?” I turned my gaze towards the female that had spoken out of turn. Her brunette hair was tied back neatly in regulation, so no need to tear her down any farther. “Name and Rank.”

  “Sells, Agent,” she shouted loudly.

  “Agent Sells, I am Lieutenant-Commander Logan. I am your training officer. You will follow all procedure to the letter when I am present. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir!” she replied.

  I gazed at the rest of the formation. “That goes for the rest of you as well. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir!” they all shouted in unison.