Gun Shy

by Lori L. Lake

  Tim said, “No big deal. We’ll just get her a longer cord.” Glad to have something useful to do, Tim stood and with enthusiasm said, “We’ll go home and switch things, won’t we, Jay?” He looked at her for confirmation and when she nodded, he said, “A new room coming up in a jiffy.”

  “One more thing,” Sara said. “We’ve got to do something about those downstairs windows.”

  By the time Mrs. Wright brought her daughter back to the house, Jaylynn and Tim were finished switching Sara’s and Jaylynn’s rooms. Jaylynn’s queen-sized bed, dresser, bookcase, PC, and computer desk went in the master bedroom with plenty of room to spare. Sara’s twin beds fit in the smaller room with no problem, but the couch couldn’t go, so Jaylynn became the proud possessor of a solid orange, over-stuffed sleeper sofa.

  Sara’s mother stayed for an hour or so helping her daughter get settled and then left, saying she would be back later that night. Jaylynn slipped into a sweatshirt and shorts and fell onto her bed exhausted. She slept through the afternoon and into the early evening, and when she finally did awaken, it was only because of hunger pangs. She shuffled downstairs to the warm kitchen and ate two bowls of Wheaties as the final light of the day faded away and the cricket noises of the night began. She put the milk and cereal away and went back to her room.

  As she lay down on her bed in the dim light, a muffled scream rang out. She was up and across the room in an instant. “Sara!” Jaylynn took three strides down the hall and breathlessly smacked open the closed bedroom door.

  She found Sara sitting up in bed, a sheet tangled around her legs and her eyes wide. Tears ran down her face. Jaylynn moved over to the bed and wrapped her arms around her friend. “What is it? Bad dream?”

  Sara nodded. Jaylynn pulled her shaking friend closer and stroked her hair. “Shh. It’ll be okay. You’re safe now.”

  “I don’t feel real safe.”

  “That’ll pass. It’ll take a while. It hasn’t even been a day yet. Here, roll over on your stomach. Good God, it’s hot in here.” She rose and opened the window to allow the slight breeze into the stuffy room. Sara turned over and put her head on her arms. Jaylynn came away from the window and slid down on her side next to Sara. With her left arm supporting her own head, Jaylynn used her right hand to rub soothing circles on Sara’s back. Gradually Sara’s tears subsided, and she lay quietly, facing Jaylynn.

  “When I was a little girl,” Jaylynn said, “I used to have a lot of bad dreams. Remember that movie Alien with Sigourney Weaver in it? I still remember her—Ripley, I mean. She was the main character stuck on a spaceship with those awful aliens from the pods. I watched it on TV when I was about nine. Big mistake. I dreamed of those horrible devouring monsters every night after that. Drove my parents crazy. My dad was so mad that I’d watched the show. I bet I woke up at least twice nightly, night after night after night for a couple of years. Then my dad’s sister, Auntie Lynn—she and my dad are who I’m named for—anyway, she came to stay with us one summer a short while after my Dad died. She slept in my room right across from me every night for three months. The first time I woke up screaming, she crawled into my twin bed—pretty much just like this.”

  Sara gave an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m sorry to be such a coward.”

  “Oh, no. You’re not at all.” Jaylynn smiled warmly at Sara and smoothed the hair out of her friend’s face. “That’s funny because what you just said is exactly the same thing I told Auntie Lynn. Here’s what she told me. You are a willing participant in your dreams. They come from you and they come to you. She asked me what I was dreaming about that was so scary.”

  “Do you remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. I have several varieties.”

  “Have?” Sara asked incredulously. “You still have them?”

  “All the time. I think I can remember three main kinds. In the first one, I am running and running, and every time I look back I see those terrible alien pod monsters chasing me and getting closer and closer. The faster I run, the heavier I feel until I can’t run any more. I scream, but they just keep coming until I’m surrounded, and they try to rip me to shreds.”

  “Gross. Like zombies. I’d hate having nightmares like that!”

  “Wait, there’s more. I have this other horrible one where I’m trapped in a really tall building and I can’t get out. I’m way up high in the penthouse, and it’s a hundred stories down. The door is locked, the only way out is the window, and the fire keeps burning closer and closer. I scream and scream for help, but nobody comes. I crouch in the window, but I can’t jump because I know I’ll fall a couple hundred feet and be dashed on the pavement below.”

  Jaylynn stopped rubbing her friend’s back and closed her eyes. “In the third dream, I am falling. I’ve almost always been pushed off the side of a tall skyscraper. One of the alien monsters waits below, jaws dripping with blood and guts. I grab for a ledge, a post, anything. But I can’t avoid falling off the edge of the damn building, which I have no idea why I was near since I am so totally scared of heights. I scream my head off, and luckily I always wake up just before I hit the bottom. Ew! I have to say that’s about my least favorite dream.” She shuddered.

  “So how come you aren’t waking up screaming every night?”

  “Auntie Lynn taught me something. She told me to think of a hero, someone to protect me, and then while I’m dreaming, call for help and they’ll come. We spent half the night listing out all the qualities I’d have in a hero, and she had me visualize her.”

  “Her?”

  Jaylynn laughed. “What can I say? Even at ten I wanted a woman hero.”

  Sara rolled onto her back and scooted over a bit. Jaylynn did the same and the two roommates lay shoulder to shoulder on the twin bed, sides touching. Sara reached down and took Jaylynn’s hand. “If I was gay, I swear you would be exactly my type, Jaylynn. Sometimes I wish I was.”

  “Oh, but Mr. Bill would be so very disappointed. Have you called him yet?”

  “No. I will. I’m too tired right now. He’ll be upset. It’s the middle of the night in Germany anyway. I’ll wait until the regular time we talk tomorrow.” She gave Jaylynn’s hand a squeeze. “Tell me, after you created this wonderful woman, what did you do with her?”

  Jaylynn laughed. “I let her save me pretty much every night. My hero was tall—or taller—than most men, broad-shouldered, strong, fierce, and definitely resourceful. Pretty much the opposite of me at ten. She wore an entire suit of black leather, kind of like Arnold did in Terminator II, and she rode a lightning fast silver motorcycle. Under her helmet, she had long beautiful black hair that I could comb, and she had so many space guns and knives and martial arts weapons that nobody crossed her. She’d kick their ass from here to eternity.”

  Giving Sara’s hand a squeeze, Jaylynn went on. “When I was eleven, my mom even made me the parts for a little spacesuit out of sheet metal. Mom sewed the metal parts on black sweatpants and a black sweatshirt. Made it really cool. I wore it for Halloween. I should get out the pictures for you. I was pretty tiny then, so people thought I was cute. I wanted so bad to have a Space Invaders B.B. gun, but she was afraid I’d shoot some neighbor kid’s eye out. I tried to swipe some paring knives from the kitchen, but my mother almost had a heart attack. I was forced to use a cardboard gun she made and I colored.”

  “You wanted to be an alien chaser like Ripley?”

  “Hmm, no. I wanted to be prepared when those aliens showed up and tried to eat me.”

  “What was the point of the Ripley character then? Just for kicks on the side?” Sara giggled, then flinched when Jaylynn poked her in the ribs.

  “Very funny, Sara!” Jaylynn paused and her voice took on a soft, dreamy quality. “She wasn’t really Ripley. She didn’t even look like Sigourney Weaver at all. I don’t know how to explain. I wanted to be an equal with My Hero, be as brave and strong and true as she was. I spent a lot of time at night thinking about her.”

  “What was the point of this little
exercise,” Sara asked as she grinned and elbowed Jaylynn back, “besides giving you something—or should I say someone—to fantasize about?”

  Elbowing her friend again, Jaylynn shook her head and bit back a smile. “It took many nights, but every time I had a bad dream, Auntie Lynn would get in bed with me, have me close my eyes, and ask me to tell her what happened. As I told her about the scary parts, she’d ask me to imagine My Hero and how she could save me. So I’d lay there and visualize all these fantastic feats she would do. Auntie Lynn would listen, maybe add a few suggestions, and then say, ‘Good. Now go back to sleep and dream that same dream again—only this time, call on your Hero. She’s a part of you. Use her.’ And Sara, it worked. It really works, even today.”

  “Hmm. Interesting,” Sara said. “You still do this, even now?”

  “Cross my heart—maybe once or twice a week. Even though the dreams are scary, I don’t mind them so much any more because she always appears. She always rescues me. My dreams have truly become odd little adventures. Weird, but exciting, too.” Jaylynn paused for a moment. “And there’s one more thing,” she said thoughtfully. “And anybody but you would think I’m crazy, but—that officer from last night, you know? Reilly? She fits the bill. Give her a giant Uzi and dress her up in a spacesuit—I’m telling you, she could be My Hero.”

  Sara turned over on her side and leaned up onto her elbow. “How convenient,” she said dryly and tried to hide her smile.

  “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “How convenient for you. But I can tell you for a fact, I would not be imagining some six-foot kick-ass police woman. I’d go more for the Antonio Banderas type. He could have a sword all right, and an Uzi, too, for all I care, along with that sexy Zorro costume.”

  Skeptically, Jaylynn said, “Are you serious? You sure you wouldn’t rather have the incredibly beautiful brunette Zorro fell in love with? Catherine Zeta-Jones?”

  “Oh, no, no, no. Not my type at all. Antonio—now he would fit my bill.”

  “You’d pick him as a hero?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay, Sara. If you’re serious, let’s talk through this.”

  “You mean talk about what happened last night?” When Jaylynn nodded, Sara swallowed, took a deep breath, and said, “I’m not sure I can.”

  “Yes, you can. I’ll stick with you. Let’s go over it step by step, and let’s rewrite it with Antonio coming in at every step to save the day. Trust me, this works. I’ll be right here for you. Will you try?”

  Sara nodded, a grave expression on her bruised face.

  “Okay then, how did it start?”

  Jaylynn sat on the couch cross-legged and barefoot in shorts and a T-shirt. At Sara’s request she hadn’t opened the main floor windows, but she turned the oscillating floor fan to high. She munched on a bowl of salty popcorn as she watched a Star Trek: Voyager rerun. Sara crept into the house after midnight, and Jaylynn was waiting for her. She leapt up from her position on the couch and greeted her friend enthusiastically. She reached down to pick up the remote and flick the TV off. “How was your first night back at the video store?”

  Sara double-checked the lock on the front door and said, “Okay, I guess. They were all really nice. One of the guys stuck by me at the register a lot.” She plopped down on the couch and Jaylynn re-seated herself sitting sideways on the couch facing her roommate. The bruises on Sara’s face had mostly faded, with the exception of two bluish half-moon circles under her eyes, which continued to fade a little more as each day went by.

  Jaylynn held out the popcorn bowl. “Want some?”

  Sara said, “Nah—I’m not up for it right now. Maybe later.” She ran her hands through her hair and lifted it off the back of her neck. “I’ve never missed a whole week of work. It’s hard to get back in the routine.” She sighed and gave Jaylynn a puzzled look. “Something’s up. What’s your news?”

  Exasperated, Jaylynn asked, “How can you always tell?”

  “I don’t know—I just can. You get this gleeful look about you, Jay, like something really cool happened.”

  “Something cool did happen. You are looking at a proud—and probably successful—applicant to the Saint Paul Police Academy.” Jaylynn couldn’t help but laugh uproariously when she saw the look of disbelief and surprise on her friend’s face. “I know, I know it sounds incredible, but I went down to the Police Department today and talked to one of the lieutenant commanders, and he called the POST Board right from there.”

  “What’s the POST Board?”

  “The Peace Officer Standards and Training Board. I guess they’ve had a tough time filling the last few classes of officers, and by the end of the year, they’ll have almost a third of the police force retire. And right now, employers including the police are begging for workers. Since I have a college degree with solid law and psychology majors, I’ll probably get in. They’re starting background checks tomorrow.”

  “But you were accepted to law school. I thought you wanted to be a lawyer?”

  “I still may. But I think this will be great experience. And the surprising thing is if they do expedite the paperwork like they said they would, I’ll start the week after next! And after the initial orientation and screening, I’ll even get paid.”

  Sara looked at her thoughtfully. “I have a hunch your mother will be very surprised. Are you sure about this?”

  “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

  “Jay, it’s not like you to be quite so impulsive. I—I guess—I’m surprised, that’s all. You sure you want to jump right into something like this?”

  “Sure, why not?” She gave her friend a puzzled look. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

  “No,” Sara said forcefully. “I didn’t say that. I just wondered if you’d thought it through. What possessed you to go down to the Police Department anyway?”

  Jaylynn felt sheepish to admit it, but she told her friend the truth. “Actually, I wanted to talk to Officer Reilly.”

  “Oh, I see.” A smile crossed Sara’s face, which she quickly stifled.

  Jaylynn got a fierce look on her face and picked up the popcorn bowl from her lap and smacked it onto the coffee table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “Then get that smirk off your face!” Sara giggled, and Jaylynn turned red. “It’s not what you think. She tried to talk me out of it, too. She even held up her cast and told me broken limbs were run-of-the-mill experiences.”

  “And you didn’t believe her—or what?”

  “Sara, I want to learn all about police work. After last week—well, it’s fascinating to me, that’s all. I think it’s a career I’d enjoy. There’s excitement, but also structure. And if I find it isn’t perfect for me, then I’ve always got my deferred acceptance to law school. Plus, it’d be a good job to have if I do go after a law degree. Either way, it’s a perfect solution, don’t you think? I was going to have to get a job sooner or later anyhow.”

  “Gimme some of that popcorn.” Sara snagged the bowl when Jaylynn slid it down the coffee table. “If your heart is set on this, then that’s great. I was curious. At least you look good in light blue.” When Jaylynn gave her a puzzled look, Sara went on, “You know—police blue? It’s a good color on you.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The fall class of Police Academy recruits milled around the track and field oval awaiting the arrival of their instructor. They started with sixteen in the class, but already three had dropped.

  The breezy and sunny autumn weather made it a perfect day for footraces. Jaylynn and her fellow rookies were told to warm up by jogging the three blocks to the high school track, and they arrived in a pack. After running wind sprints in the center of the oval, Jaylynn sat on the grass and did some hurdler’s stretches.

  “Hey, Savage,” Dwayne Neilsen said, “you gonna stop to stretch out when you chase after the bad guys?” He sneered at her, his rugged face affecting a look of sup
eriority.

  The three other young men who had become his buddies in the first three weeks laughed along with him, and one of them said, “Sure hope you never have to lift anything heavy on duty. Probably have to stretch those pecs, huh?”

  Jaylynn smiled sweetly at the four men whom she called the Four Stooges behind their backs. They were all a bit above average in height and had indeed excelled at the weight-lifting component of the physical fitness tests. But here, on the track, she knew she was in her element. Paula Marshall came to sit nearby and stretched her legs out, too. She rolled her eyes at Jaylynn when the Four Stooges weren’t looking.

  Of the eleven men and two women, Jaylynn was the smallest. At five foot five, she was at least three inches shorter than everyone else, including Marshall, but as she stretched her legs, she looked around and appraised the fitness of her cohorts. She decided some of them were likely to be fleet of foot, especially Mahoney and Schmidt. But none of the Four Stooges worried her. She just hoped Marshall would be able to keep up.

  Their instructor, Sergeant Vernon Slade, finally strolled out on the field. Like the rest of them, he wore navy blue shorts and a gray sweatshirt that read SPPD on the front. Slade was a lean man in his late twenties, with a gaunt face and piercing brown eyes. His brown hair was cut short on the sides, but longer on top and puffed to the side in the wind. In one hand he held a stopwatch. In the other he held a silver whistle, which he used to blow one short, sharp shriek. “Okay,” he said. “Listen up. I’m setting a pace, and all of you will follow. This is not a race, but you all have to keep up. I’ll line you up, and each of you is to follow three yards from the person in front of you. Not four yards. Not two yards. How many yards?”

  “Three, sir!” they said in unison.

  “When I blow the whistle, the person at the end of the line sprints to the front and falls in behind me. Got it?” When everyone nodded, he called off the thirteen names. Jaylynn was sixth in the pack with Marshall two behind her.