Kelly's Nightmare - Narration (by me) and Dramatic Video

Roll-call

1

March 21, 14:40 hours

"Kelly, my brother, today is the day," said Keegs. "It's the baby-boot day. What color will you be rocking, blue or pink?"

I was already tired, which made the beginning of another watch a struggle. I was on the tail end of three sleepless nights, my mind haunted by relentless nightmares.

My smile wouldn't suffice for long as my peppy friend was persistent.

"I'm hoping pink because blue looks disastrous."

I pulled my sweater over my vest and bloused it near my duty belt. Taking my .40 caliber pistol from the top locker shelf, I sighed.

"Jesus, I hope it's pink. I can't handle another limp-tard. That last boot almost killed me." I inserted the magazine into the frame with a satisfying click and then used my thumb to pull back the top-notch of the slide, loading a round. "Yeah, pink," I said. I holstered it, closed my locker, and took a tobacco pouch from my back pocket.

Keegs smiled with pursed lips and squinted eyes.

"Especially because the ass on pink is a freaking masterpiece. You'd get to stare at that all day, my man."

"Roll call the bullpen, roll call the bullpen." Lieutenant Chaney boomed over the intercom.

"Hey, Marcello," yelled Keegs. "You owe me for that chicken parm, bro. Where's my money?"

His voice trailed off as he slammed shut his locker door, triggering a grim and macabre dance of death. My body trembled, and my fingers shook. My mind flashed with strange and morbid images so grotesque that I shut my eyes to unsee them.

Last night's dream? Why won't you leave me alone?

I was sinking in the muck of rotting body parts with fires burning from tar and flesh in front of me. The treetops were devoid of leaves, resembling severed heads that hung in nets from branches soaked in blood. As I pushed through the mire, the rotten ash and decay filled the air, intensifying my fear of drowning.

Cries of torment and wickedness screamed from behind the trees.

My fathom, my depth. And among the cacophony of voices, one stood out, raging and dominating the others: My kill, my flesh, will I feed. Together, they melded into a twisted chorus that echoed with every step and struggle I took.

The muck transformed into a pool, its surface adorned with ravaged corpses. The haunting sound of a guttural moan intensified the struggle to keep me from sinking. And that's when I saw Maxine.

She stood at the pool's edge, her foot sinking into the tar intermingled with a repulsive mixture of entrails and ash. She wore a forest green cable-knit long-sleeve sweater dress that hugged her curves. The hem of the garment sloped downward at an angle, giving it an asymmetrical look. As she walked toward the pool's edge, the sound of her black thigh-high laced-up boots demanded my attention.

Her beauty was striking, her flawless figure proportioned, and her voice carried the sweet sound of my name. Stepping into the foulness of decomposed flesh and bone, she stretched out her hand and called for me.

2

Despite being covered in sweat upon waking up, her presence felt like a meaningful portent. Maybe she was the salve that could heal the wounds of my past.

From the moment I laid eyes on her, she captivated me, leaving a beauty mark etched in my mind. But her appearance in my night terror made me wonder if she was safe.

"See your ass inside," said Keegs. I smiled and snapped my triple retention holster shut.

3

I took a deep breath and sighed as I put my tobacco pouch in my blue clip-box, anxious at anticipating my new assignment. And to be honest, I wanted to get Maxine's file jacket.

Desiring a stunning and beautiful pre-schooler as your boot was taboo. It caused many divorces, heartaches, locker room brawls, and taunting. Primal lust brought together with the evils of man, could lead to illicit affairs and destroy careers, but I couldn't resist my attraction. Since that day in Claire Woods, I'd caught glimpses of her a few times. In our brief encounters, I offered polite smiles and occasional nods. Deep down, though, I guarded my true feelings.

Walking through the doorway into the crowded bullpen, I caught sight of her and felt my heart skip a beat. Maxine was in the front row, starboard, and aisle seat.

With a smile, she sat and talked with the two other newbies. She pulled her hair tight in a ponytail, strands framing her face. Her kevlar couldn't mask her well-endowed physique. But those gentle, brown eyes and that radiant smile filled me with joy and distress. And I say distress because the yearning I felt for her was a torment I couldn't escape.

Oh, dear Jesus, please assign her to me. I need something good in my life. Please let it be her.

I walked down the aisle, passing three rows, trying not to be so obvious about how I felt. Still unnerved and shaking from the terror-stricken flashback, I had to focus.

"Yo Kelly. What the hell?" said Keegs as he banged on the table. I put my clip box beside him and dropped into the chair. "What took you so long?" Keegs paused, his gaze locked onto my eyes and face. He leaned over and whispered. "Are you okay? Another flashback?" I nodded and forced a smile, playing it off. But he knew better. "You're safe, Kelly. Take a deep breath. You'll be fine."

Sergeant Guldbrandsen made his way from table to table, the sound of shuffling papers following in his wake. Handing out today's briefing packet hinted at an impending event or situation. With tasks, Lieutenant Chaney had a talent for prioritizing the important ones and delegating the mundane ones to us. But this was different.

Guldbrandsen handed me mine and slid Keegs his.

"You squared away, Corporal?" he asked, pausing. "You look distracted.

I took the tobacco pouch from my clip-box and unzipped the seal. I grabbed and rolled a wad, and put it straight into my mouth.

"Good, now, Staff Sergeant," I said. I shot him a smile and winked, and he moved on.

I skimmed through the bullet points to see what was new and exciting in the world of the Six-three.

"Mounted Patrols are back," I said. I elbowed Keegs, getting his attention. "Walking patrols begin this weekend." I took Keegs' cup and spat, ensuring the loose leaves cleared my lips. "Oh, shit, bro. They identified the DB from the other day. Check it out."

I showed him her picture.

"That's a freaking shame, dude," he said. He took his packet from the table, shuffled through the pages to her picture, and sighed. "Casey DeLorre, twenty. From here in the Heights."

"Yeah, and since when do they put the pic of a DB in a patrol briefing?" He took back his cup and spat.

"What do you think, Kelly? What's that shadow sense telling you?"

I thought for a moment, and a heavy darkness settled over my mind, casting a shadow on my thoughts. And when I looked up at Maxine, I felt frightened.

This is absurd. I'm going insane, and I don't know why.

"Alright, people, settle in. We've got a big sit-rep, so shut it down and give me your attention," said Chaney.

He walked down the aisle to the podium and put a huge manilla folder on the table next to him. He loaded it with reports, pictures affixed with staples, and an enigmatic assortment of other items.

"First, our new mayor passed a law mandating that all precincts hire and use Special Law Enforcement Officers with a Class II status."

"Come on, Lieu," shouted Keegs. Others followed as Training Officer Celia Martinez, our Precinct Rep, shushed the room.

"The union is in contact with our lawyers about drafting a cease and desist order. We won't let them come after our COLA and—"

"Enough!" Lieutenant Chaney slammed his fist on the podium. His eyes narrowed as he squinted, his face turning a shade of red. "There's too much going on for this right now, so cut it out and shut up."

Silence quickened the room when Keegan ripped ass, and the room howled in laughter.

"Sorry, Lieu. Burritos for lunch."

"Did you try the new roach coach on the corner?" I asked, hiding behind my clip box.

"Keegan," snapped Guldbrandsen. "See me after."

Taking a moment to collect himself, Chaney reached for the folder on the desk, ensuring a secure grip, and then unfolded it onto the podium.

"Front row are our new boots. They've graduated from prekindergarten, so as of this moment, they're no longer preschoolers. Stand up."

The tone of Chaney's voice was stern and direct, leaving no room for ambiguity. And when the two guy boots stood up, we met them with teasing and laughter.

As Maxine pushed back her chair and presented herself, she turned her body towards the aisle, concealing her backside from everyone in the room. Only two females were present among everyone in the bullpen. And only FTO Celia Martinez said anything to Max.

"Come on, beauty queen Barbie. Show us that sweet ass of yours. Let these losers know what's for sale."

It caught my attention how Maxine remained composed and unaffected by the cat-calls and whistles. However, Martinez took charge, causing a noticeable change in Maxine's expression as they pressed on. Her eyebrows knitted together, and her lips tightened, showing her anger. Ignoring Martinez's request, she stood firm, her back away from the mob, and waited to know her assignment.

She attempted to divert her gaze and compose herself after being pestered, but I caught her eyes as soon as she glanced back. Contrary to my actions in the field that day, I didn't look away and was no longer shy. And in that moment, with that one glance, I told her everything she wanted to know about me without once opening my mouth.

"Bro, ten packs of Redman says she's Martinez's. That's why she called her out. She's icing her," said Keegs in a whisper.

"No," I said, empowered by a sudden burst of confidence. "You're on, and she's mine."

With a swift motion, Chaney pulled the red files, also known as the jackets, from the massive folder resting on the podium. He meticulously sorted and opened each document, ensuring that he signed their official transcripts and that they were married to their new FTOs.

"From right to left, Officer Jeremy Hwang," said Chaney.

"That's the guy who looks like the before picture of anal sex," whispered Keegs.

"Officer Garry Fessendon," said Chaney

"The last time I saw him, I flushed," whispered Keegs. To which I stood my clip-box on the table and hid my mouth behind it, fighting the laughter.

"And Officer Maxine McMenamin."

Keegs said nothing, and my laughter fell away. Chaney went back to the red file jackets and opened the first.

"Fessenden, your FTO is Patrolman First Class, Roger Fletcher." Chaney held out the Jacket as Fletcher got up, shook his head, and walked to the podium.

"There'll be no donut stops for that guy," said Keegs.

"Nope, Fletcher's a good dude. He's squared away," I said.

Chaney returned to the jackets, took the next one, and opened it. He squinted and stared at Martinez and then at me. He looked at the two remaining boots and cleared his throat.

"Hwang, your FTO is Patrolman First Class, Celia Martinez. That leaves McMenamin, assigned to Corporal William Kelly."

"Shit," said Keegs. "Ten packs of Redman are on their way, asshole."

I pushed back the chair and stood. Our eyes met as I walked toward the podium, the intensity palpable. However, I had to conceal the overwhelming joy in my heart. I resolved to go to extreme lengths to ensure her safety, treat her with the utmost care, and somehow win her affection.