Page 8 of Terminal Voyage

Tyson laughed. "You don't need me. Looks like you’re doing just fine on your own.”

I had put a nice grouping in the kill zone.

Then we did a series of double taps. The natural rise of the barrel after the first shot makes the second tap a headshot, if done correctly.

Pop. Pop.

Then we practiced from a low ready position. Then from a holster.

After several of those, Tyson ran me through a series of timed reload drills.

Afterward, we switched to the rifle—an AR 15. He had me fieldstrip and rebuild. He taught me the proper stance, and we went through the same dry fire drills and mag reloads.

We did it so many times it became a fluid movement. Something I didn't have to think about. A reflex action.

“In the moment, you're going to be nervous, heart racing, sweating. A million thoughts will flood your mind. You won’t have time to think. You have to act. Nobody rises to the occasion—we all sink to the level of our training. So train hard and often.”

"I'm not planning on ever getting into a situation like that again."

"We prepare for war, hoping we never go," he replied.

Then it was time for live fire again. Slow rounds at 15 yards. Then 20 rounds of controlled pairs. Twenty more rounds of standing-to-kneeling. We practiced timed reloads and malfunction drills.

Afterward, we cleared and cased the weapons. My hand, my finger, and my shoulder were already sore. I’m sure they’d be more so in the morning.

We left the indoor range and stepped out into the bright Florida sunshine. As we walked back to my car, Tyson said, “Your homework tonight and every night is 50 dry fire reps with snap caps.”

“Aye-aye, sir,” I said with a mock salute.

As former spec-ops, I couldn’t have asked for a better instructor.

“Seriously. This isn’t a one-and-done. I want you at the range weekly, going through these drills.”

“Ammo is expensive.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

I smiled. “Aw, you care.”

He gave me a look. “When was the last time you were at the range?”

I gave a sheepish shrug. “Life gets hectic.”

“It’s non-negotiable.”

We hopped in my car and went to the Coconut Boxing Gym. Tyson knew the owner, Tommy. He managed a couple of professional fighters, and the gym specialized in Muay Thai and Brazilian Jujitsu as well.

"You need to learn how to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat,” Tyson said. “The goal is to never have to use any of these skills. Your best defense is staying out of trouble in the first place. Don’t slack off on situational awareness.”

A guilty cringe wrinkled my face. “I know. I let my guard down.”

“That’s in the past. Learn from it.”

We warmed up by jogging in place and shadowboxing. We did pushups, bodyweight squats, and burpees. We worked on mobility for the neck, wrist, and shoulders.

“You’ve got to stay loose and limber,” he said.

Tyson taught me proper fight mechanics so I wouldn’t break my hand or my wrist. We focused on palm strikes, horizontal elbows, knees to the body and groin. Low kicks to the shins and knees to disrupt mobility.