Next Generation Adam-12 AU Fan Fiction: Jimmy Reed Jr. & Ally Malloy

chapter 8:

Just as we opened the door to re-enter the hospital, a dozen vans with reporters and cameras began rolling in. My traumatic experience was nothing more than another paycheck and headliner to them. They wouldn’t have to live with memories, flashbacks, and guilt but I would.  

Doors creaked open and thundered shut. Bright yellow flashes filled the air as if a sudden lightning storm had arisen around me. Microphones and video cameras were pointed cruelly in my face as if I was a star attending a movie premier. The talkative predators attacked me with barrages of unbearable questions.

“Officer Malloy is it true that you and your partner have been shot? How serious is your arm injury? Have you received any information on your partner’s condition? Are they releasing you? As a rookie probationer, will you leave the job if your partner dies?

I stared blankly into the sudden storm of attention. I couldn’t find the strength to answer the oppressive load of questions being flung in my direction. My tongue refused to work in accordance with my vocal cords causing me to sound so wildly out of character.

What else could I tell them but the truth?

Cautiously, I stepped forward and wearily replied, “Yes, it’s true. My partner and I were involved in a drive-by shooting. My…my… injury is minor. They are… are… keeping me over night to make sure I don’t have any trouble.”

I swallowed harshly feeling my lips trembling as I forced myself to admit the harsh truth. Numbly I answered, “My… partner… is dead.” The sound of the words rolling off my tongue made me sick to my stomach.

Why did Officer Brinkman’s death have to be a public event? Couldn’t they let the grieving parties wallow in their sorrow without prying? What more did they want? Did they want to know why my partner and I stopped to eat? That was simple enough to answer; we were hungry. How would they possibly understand the events when I, myself, had trouble piecing it together? They couldn’t.

Suddenly, a reporter stepped forward and asked, “Allyson Malloy, is your father involved in the investigation?”

A chill shot up my spine and my eyes widened with wild horror. It wasn’t the inquiry that disturbed me, but a singular word mentioned within it’s frame that had.

More questions filled the air, but I was unable to hear them over the recollection of a very real flashback. My fingers curled tightly around Jimmy’s forearm to keep my balance as terrible images spilled back into my mind.

No one had called me Allyson since the day my mother passed away. I refused to let anyone call me Allyson, even my father. I hated it with every inch of my being and I pushed it into the shadows of my past.

 The name had become foreign to me over the years. It was if the name belonged to another person, a not so distant time, and some far off dark realm that I was not permitted to enter. The sound of the name being spoken by a member of the crowd made the hair on the back of my neck bristle defensively and I unwittingly recoiled.

 “Allyson” was the last thing my mother cried out after the drunk driver rammed into our car. It was the last thing she ever said. She was gone in the blinking of an eye and I could have shared the same fate, had I not been tucked behind my father’s heavy-duty rifle case. He had forgotten to take it to work with him and we had been on our way to deliver it to him. The darn case had blocked my view for most of the ride and I despised sharing my space with it. When the cars collided it slid from the seat at an angle kind of like the shoulder restraint of a seat-belt. It kept the hood of the car from buckling in on me as it had on my poor mother.

The sound of my full name revived the excruciatingly painful memory from it’s shallow grave. I suppose the worst part of it’s reawakening was that I could still hear the sound of the car crunching in around me. I remember looking over at my mother and screaming for help from the wreckage. I thought I could save her, just as I thought I could save Brinkman. Two times I tried to save someone I loved and respected and two times I failed; it wasn’t much of a record.

I froze unable to speak another syllable. Dizzily, my gaze fixed upon the ground below my feet. I thought I was going to be sick or that I would end up fainting. My arm began to throb with unceasing severity. Tears collected in the corners of my already red and puffy eyes as I battled the pain.

 Unintentionally, my fingernails had started to pierce Jimmy’s skin. He winced but never snarled at me for having marked his arm.

Tactfully and defensively, Jimmy stepped beside me and leaned into the microphones to make an announcement of his own.

“Ladies and Gentleman, Miss Malloy is not participating in any more interviews at the moment and I kindly request that you respect her right to privacy in this difficult time. If you must ask further questions, Chief Pete Malloy or Sgt. Reed Sr. will designate a time and place for a public press conference. Thank you,” Jimmy announced in the most calm and authoritative tone he could muster.