Taking A Walk 2

I had grown up in a rural part of Kansas. It was a small town typical of the American Midwest complete with a town square and a high school football stadium larger than the town square.

After eighteen years of rural life I chose to attend a college in a big city. For whatever reason city living was more to my liking than the quiet country life. My parents still lived at home and of course I was back there whenever they needed a hand with this or that job on the farm.

I graduated college with a degree in journalism and after bouncing around through various entry level jobs at radio stations, TV stations, and even a You Tube channel I landed a city desk position at one of the last big city newspapers.

It was a great job, really. Covering the various disasters and major events that I would have wanted to see anyway seemed the perfect fit for me. I could follow my 'hobby' and make a living while doing so.

The one shortcoming of my lifestyle and career was that aside from visiting my parents I really didn't know much about the rural side of America. My job and my hobby mostly took me to big cities and especially the great American metropolises.

It was ironic that the spaces between those great cities were literally fly-over country for me. My job would take me to see them once in a while but for the most part they were just something I'd see from far above as I flew between the urban areas.

After seven years on the city desk my publisher offered me a kind of sabbatical. I'd get three months off of my usual job, with pay, and I could do whatever I wanted to do with the caveat that I'd write about it when I was done.

So I decided that it was time to see America. And what better way to see it than by going for a walk? That's right, I planned to walk from one side of America to the other and I would do it without flying. Not even once.

The big day came and I had decided to start in Santa Monica where I would follow Route 66 to Chicago and then more or less follow Interstate 80 to New York City.

Setting out was no problem and I had an uneventful adventure across California and then across Arizona. I met some nice people along the way and got in some interesting content for the story I'd eventually write. I decided not to shave for the balance of the journey, eschewing my usual clean cut yet mild appearance.

Just east of Lupton, Arizona was where I entered New Mexico. And almost immediately I could sense a palpable tension in the air. It wasn't like a special sense or anything like that, no, it was just the glances I'd get from passerby and the intent stares I'd get from law enforcement.

In my usual costume of a suit, glasses, and dress shoes I would have never been the focus of such attention. But having relaxed my look and my hygiene I was encountering a different side of my country. Or perhaps I was just seeing New Mexico in a new way.

Still, I plodded on and made my way to Albuquerque which is where things went astray.

I'd walked into town along the old US 66 figuring to make the downtown by sunset. My plan was to get a nice room for the night, get in some rest, and also tend to my neglected personal hygiene.

Heading for the Old Town neighborhood I was somewhat surprised when two Albuquerque police department cruisers came up behind me with their lights on. One of them went ahead and cut me off with the two officers inside jumping out to stop me. The other car stopped behind me with two more officers coming up to flank me on the rear.

Anyone else would have had a sense of danger.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" said the first cop who looked to be a sergeant.

"New York City." was my simple reply.

"Bullshit." he said, "Let's see some ID." he demanded as he held his fingers in such a way as to simulate holding an ID card. His finger and thumb making a "C".

"Why?" I laughed, "Is walking a crime in this city?"

Sergeant cop wasn't amused. "I told you I wanted your ID so don't fuck with me, boy. Let's see it." He emphasized the f-word.

Suddenly I wasn't feeling so amused myself. "Unless you can tell me why you're bothering me right now I'd like to be on my way."

One of the cops behind me said, "Tell me your name and date of birth."

He didn't really want my name and date of birth. What he wanted was to distract me as the two cops in front of me moved closer.

I steeled myself and said, "Whatever you heroes think you're about to do you're making a big mistake and you should stop."

Sergeant cop laughed out loud. "Your mistake was not cooperating with our investigation and now we're going to arrest you for obstruction."

I felt a tug on my backpack as one of the cops behind me yanked on it in an effort to throw me off balance. I didn't budge. I wasn't in the mood.

When the first attack failed it was Sergeant cop who threw a punch at me. I could have easily dodged it but I figured some justice was in order. His beefy tattooed arm had a ham-sized fist at one end and it connected squarely with my left cheek.

It was a classic right cross. Had it been anyone else he probably would have killed them.

Instead he howled with pain as several of the bones in his hand shattered.

"Get that motherfucker!" he cried to his colleagues.

I don't often get angry but bullies make me angry. In my usual circumstances as a reporter the police would sometimes get pushy but I had never been assaulted before. And in the pursuit of my hobby when I'd run across police they would always defer to me.

Meaning that my relationship with the members of the American law enforcement community was significantly different from what the less powerful people in the country could expect. In this split second I realized that I was right at that moment experiencing a reality that I never would have seen without going on this walk.

While Sergeant cop held onto his smashed hand his three compadres attacked me. The first two were easily brushed aside. The first I tossed into a nearby wall where he crumpled unconscious. The second I put through the windshield of his cruiser.

At that point the third one pulled his pistol and aimed it at me. I caught his eye and I wondered for a moment if he was going to pull the trigger. He had a look of fear and I hoped for that moment that he'd step back from what he was about to do.

Instead his eyes turned to slits and a grimace appeared on his face. He opened fire on me and did what the police call a "mag dump". He fired all ten rounds at me. Point blank, center mass, just like he'd been trained to do.

I looked down at my chest. "Dammit, you ruined my jacket! Now put that damned pistol away or I'm going to start taking this personally."

Nope. He reloaded and dumped another ten rounds at me. Eight, really. Two of the shots went past me and hit the Sergeant. He was still alive but he was going to be out of action for a long time and that suited me just fine.

The fact that the last cop standing had intended to kill me was a bit too much for me.

I snatched his pistol from him and crushed it. Then I took his shooting hand and likewise crushed it. Not enough that it would need to be amputated but enough that he'd never work as a cop again. He fell to the ground screaming in pain.

Naturally, all of this happened in a few seconds and I didn't even break a sweat.

A quick look around and I verified that all four of my assailants were still alive. Damaged, but alive.

I went to walk away when the Sergeant spoke up.

"Who the fuck are you?"

I leaned down and looked him in the eye, "You're one stupid son-of-a-bitch, aren't you? Your friend just shot me eighteen times and it did nothing to me. I threw you and your men around like dolls. And you can't figure out who I am?"

He shook his head. He must have been a special kind of stupid.

It took me less than a second to change into my other outfit. The familiar outfit he'd surely know.

He stared at me. His mouth gaping with realization.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." he said.

I sighed and replied, "You've done this to other people, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, now you can tell everyone how you did this for the last time."

"You're not going to kill us?" he asked.

"Of course not." I said as I started to get myself ready to go. I figured I'd get past New Mexico and pick up my walk in Texas.

Just before I took to the air he says to me, "Thank you, Superman."