Free Guns And Dogs by T.A. Uner Page A

wallet to see if he could find any type of identification. He soon found a driver’s license behind a faded social security card. The face matched the old man who he’d seen earlier. Patrice, you’re making this too easy. Johnny hurried back to the bench, but the old man was gone. His heart sank in his chest and he realized that AL wasn’t going to make this easy, no matter how confident he felt about completing this Character Assessment test.
    He heard the neighing of a horse and a helmeted police officer wearing sunglasses approached him on horseback. He gave Johnny a look-over, no doubt wondering why the young man was wearing the outlandish AL Training suit. “Hello officer,” Johnny said.
    The officer continued to eye him suspiciously. “You know, you look kinda familiar; what you got there in your hand there kid?”
    “Ohh, this? I found it.” Johnny extended the wallet to the police officer who leaned over the side of his saddle and plucked it from his hand.
    The officer flipped through the wallet. “This isn’t yours.”
    “I know. Like I said…I found it.”
    “Bull,” the cop said. “You stole it.” He climbed down from his horse. The officer stood at least a foot taller than him but Johnny remained calm. If he panicked, this holographic police officer would detect it. Maybe this was part of the simulation. “Now I think I know where I recognize you from. You’re that punk who’s been lifting wallets from all the park-goers.” He drew his nightstick. “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain…”
    “Hello!”
    Both the officer and Johnny turned around; the old man he’d encountered earlier had returned. He smiled at Johnny. “So you’ve decided to return to keep me company, son?”
    “I was trying to find you,” Johnny said. He tried to keep his voice firm. But a surge of fury rose in his chest. He felt like punching the holographic cop in the face for wrongly accusing him of theft. But he kept his nerve.
    The policeman’s horse snorted and relieved itself on the pavement.
    Great. I even get to smell holographic horse poop.
     
     
    “I caught this kid with your wallet, sir,” the policeman said before handing the wallet over to the old man. “I was just about to arrest him and charge him with a misdemeanor.”
    “That’s not true,” Johnny said. “I found it and gave it to the police officer.”
    The cop grabbed Johnny’s arm. His grip was strong, but Johnny didn’t waver, he yanked his arm away from the police officer who raised his nightstick. Johnny prepared himself for the blow that would surely come.
    “Now hold on there flatfoot,” the old man said. “I can tell you for a fact this is the second time this week I’ve dropped my wallet. The other day I dropped it in my garage before my wife found it. I might even have a hole in my trousers.” He felt his back pocket and smiled. “Yep. It’s just like I thought. The lining in my back pocket has come undone. Now you leave that young feller alone. He’s alright.”
    The cop looked disappointedly at the old man, then, back at Johnny before lowering his nightstick. “But sir, he’s a thief. You want me to let a him walk ?”
    “Did you see this young man lift the wallet from me, officer?” When the policeman didn’t reply the old man smiled. “Last I checked, the law must have proof before accusing someone.”
    The officer looked indignant. “So I take it that you don’t wish to press charges against this punk?” Johnny felt like punching the man in the face for calling him a ‘punk.’ The only punk here was the one carrying the nightstick and firearm.
    “That’s correct officer. But thank you for your concern.”
    The officer climbed atop his horse, mumbled a few incoherent words and rode off.
    “The nerve of that guy,” Johnny said. “I found your wallet and was trying to bring it back to you.”
    The old man patted Johnny on the shoulder. “I know, I know, son. But you handled yourself