Chapter 8

Both kids were old enough for school, so we looked into that when fall came around. Billy was now eight-years-old and ready for 3^rd grade. Mary was six and ready for 1^st grade. We got them enrolled with a minimum amount of bother and settled into our new life in Phoenix.

Uh-oh, we got a call one day that Billy was bullying some of the other kids. Liz and I dashed to the school office for clarification of what we considered a serious charge. It turned out that Billy had done nothing directly against any of the other kids, but he had been showing off his unusual strength. That had frightened some of the kids and they had told their parents. The parents had called the school to complain of the "bullying."

I nearly hit the ceiling when I heard this. The principal was embarrassed by the situation, but there was such a strong effort to control bullying at the school that the principal was forced to take some action. The final compromise was that the matter would be dropped if Billy stopped showing off. When he got home that day, I gave Billy a strong lecture about how he had to stop showing off, or he was going to have to stay home and not have any playmates. That shook him to the quick, and we never heard any more complaints about bullying as related to Billy. As it happened, later in the school year, Billy did take on a 6^th grader who was doing some bullying of his own. That made Billy a hero among the other kids, and the whole thing blew over.

One evening shortly after we had moved to Phoenix, we found a babysitter, and Liz and I went for a night of clubbing. We had a very nice time with a few drinks and a lot of dancing. Finally, it was time to go home, so Liz and I were walking to a cab stand. We had reached the most dimly lit portion of the street when we were suddenly accosted by two men who were dressed like the proverbial classic muggers.

They both had guns, probably 9mm, and they were pointed at us. One said, "Okay, Motherfuckers, give us all your money and what else you got worth something!"

Liz had been hanging on to my left arm and laughing at an incident in one of the clubs we had visited. I used this opportunity to sweep her behind me so that I was between her and the guns. It was probably just as well that she lost her balance at this unexpected action by me and fell to the sidewalk. The two muggers were just as surprised as she was, and they both fired their pistols at my gut. I felt the bullets strike me, but that was the extent of their effect.

However, now I was truly enraged, and I attacked the muggers with a fury that I had rarely felt or shown. I followed my usual procedure of slamming my fist into the solar plexus of the nearest man, but he had moved just in time for me to hit him just above his right hip, instead. He fell to the ground, but he was not completely incapacitated. He was still holding his gun, and I was afraid that he might shoot Liz; therefore, I kicked him in the chest, and that broke his breastbone and drove the broken bones into his heart and lungs. I had no further need to be concerned with him.

The other man tried to shoot me, but he was so excited that he missed, even though he was only about four feet away. The bullet ricocheted off the brick wall behind me and went I knew not where. There were other people on the street, so this wild shooting had to be stopped right away! I was a little off balance myself, and I could not use a conventional blow to reach him, so I dove at him and hit him in the chest with my head.

Well, my head was a hard as Liz claimed it was, and he, too, suffered a broken breastbone. Fortunately, this was enough to stop his shooting spree, and he died as he lay on the sidewalk.

Liz was not seriously injured, though she did have a few scrapes and bruises that came from falling to the concrete sidewalk. I asked a witness to call 911 while I made sure of Liz's condition. There were too many witnesses around for us to simply disappear, so I was stuck with talking to the police when they arrived a few minutes later. I gave my story as being an expert in karate and kung fu, and that was how I managed to subdue the muggers. It was obvious that the guns had been fired because witnesses heard them, but I pointed to the mark on the wall where a bullet had struck. I claimed that I just did not know where the other bullets went. I never let the cops see the two bullet holes in my shirt, so I was able to claim that every shot had missed me.

The two muggers were dead, so I promised to come by the police station in the afternoon to fill out some paperwork to certify that I had fought in self-defense. There was no real question about this from the cops' point of view: it was just some more of the red tape that we all had to deal with. They merely had to account for the two dead men. As a kind of reward for ridding the city of a couple of bad guys, one of the cops gave us a ride home in his cruiser. This encounter was no big deal as far as the local news media were concerned. The only difference between this and many other such incidents was that the muggers were dead and not the victims. I had to concede that I had gotten away with one this time!

The only lingering effect of the incident was that Liz had a two sore knees for a few days. However, she was not so anxious to go out for a night on the town for some time after that. This kind of woke me up from my bout of laziness, though. I resolved to do something about the way the muggers were taking over the night life of a great city. It was time for me to return to my duty as a vigilante. Liz was confident that I would not be hurt by even the worst mugger, so she did not object to my activity while she was asleep. Therefore, I returned to the street patrol the next night.

I had to learn my way around Phoenix at night; that is, I had to find the most active spots to patrol. Therefore, my first night was relatively quiet, and I only broke up one mugging. This was a simple affair where one man with a knife was holding up a male tourist as he headed back to his hotel. The mugger did not notice me as I came up behind him, and I broke one of his arms and one of his legs before disappearing. The victim got his money back and called 911 for me. I was gone before a cop showed up.

The next night was good for three muggers caught and the following night gave me two more. Now the news media were beginning to notice because I was doing what the cops had not been able to accomplish. For lack of a better name, I was being called "The Night Stalker." Okay, I admit it, I enjoyed that and went so far as to have business cards printed up on my computer. All the card said was "The Night Stalker." I planned to leave a card with every one of my muggers.

By the end of the month, I had accounted for 23 muggers, and the news media were beginning to try to find out more about me. I don't know if they realized it or not, but they could get me into trouble if they publicized my identity. The cops did not seem to be annoyed with me, but I was afraid that the underworld would move against me or my family if it were known exactly who I was. Therefore, I tried to move with discretion whenever possible, but I did continue to leave my cards.

Billy was now nine-years-old, and beginning to be more interested in my nocturnal adventures. I explained why he could not join me because he still needed to sleep for a minimum of six hours each night. Therefore, he started to try to think of things that he could do for me that did not actually involve his presence. On several occasions, I had been working all the way on the other side of Phoenix and had not gotten home before he had to leave for school. The problem was transportation.