The Arklay Outbreak

Chapter Eleven

Sherry stepped off the school bus and looked up at the enormous building that greeted her. It was so huge it seemed to block the sky. The large letters RCPD were etched in the marble over the large front doors. She was quickly ushered forward as the other students behind her exited the bus and gathered in a small group on the sidewalk, about thirty of them in all, consisting of both second grade classes.

Her teacher, Mrs. Gaffey, waved her hands in the air to get their attention. “Okay, everyone. I want you all to be on your very best behavior today. Now remember, the police officers are very busy and it was very nice of them to let us come here today. I don’t want anyone to cause trouble. That means you, Derek.” One of the kids behind Sherry snickered.

Mrs. Gaffey led the group of students through the imposing black gate and into the police station. As soon as they entered, Sherry found herself looking up in awe at how huge the inside was. It was like a temple or a church. She imagined doves fluttering around under the lofty ceiling as brilliant shafts of sunlight poured in through stained-glass windows. The police station didn’t have stained-glass windows though, unfortunately. It would look much more beautiful if it did.

It did, however, have a gorgeous white marble statue in the very center of the lobby, of a woman in a toga, with a large jug balanced on her shoulder. Water poured from the jug and splashed at her sandaled feet. In the surrounding fountain was a collection of coins. Sherry wished she had some change so she could make a wish.

Her daydreaming was interrupted by Mrs. Gaffey. “Okay kids, there’s too many of you for one tour group, so we’re going to split you into boys and girls.” She gestured toward a uniformed black policeman standing beside her. “This is Officer Branagh, and he’ll take the girls through the station. I’ll take the boys.”

“Shouldn’t you take the girls and let us go with him?” one of the boys asked.

Mrs. Gaffey crossed her arms and shook her head. “I don’t think so, Derek. I want to keep an eye on you.”

They all laughed and as instructed, got into two groups. Mrs. Gaffey and Officer Branagh spoke together for a few moments, and Mrs. Gaffey started to lead the boys through the spacious lobby.

“Okay then,” the police officer said. “Like your teacher said, my name is Mr. Branagh, but you can all call me Marvin if you want. We’re going to visit the offices and supply rooms first and then head upstairs. But before we start, does anyone have any questions?”

Inevitably, Sherry felt, one of the girls raised her hand. “Have you ever shot anyone?”

Marvin smiled and laughed softly. Sherry watched him intently to see how he reacted. One of her favorite hobbies was studying adults. She had become increasingly good at it while watching her parents. She knew what they really meant when they said something, as if she could read the spaces between the words and see deeper into their conversation. Maybe if her parents were more normal, she wouldn’t be so interested in what they said, but even at a young age, Sherry knew that her family was far from average.

“I’ve had to use my gun before, but I don’t think you really need to know about that,” Marvin said. Sherry decided that she liked him. He was a typical adult, in that he treated children like children, but she sensed a friendliness in him. His smile was natural and warm, and most importantly, she could see that he was in a good mood, which helped her judgment of him. It was always easier to like people when they were happy.

He led the group of girls through a door on the left side of the lobby and into a long room filled with desks and people running around. Some of them were dressed in blue uniforms like Marvin, and they acknowledged the girls and nodded or smiled politely, but some of them seemed to busy to do even that. The room was noisy and cluttered and hectic, not at all what Sherry had expected. Everyone seemed to be doing five things at once, talking on the phone, writing things down, talking to other people. Sherry had a vision of a police station as an orderly place where everything was done according to as schedule and everyone had their own small job to do, but this seemed the exact opposite of that.

“This is the main office,” Marvin said. “Most of the street cops do their desk work here when they aren’t on duty. They have to file paperwork, write reports, and a bunch of other boring stuff.”

“Do you have a desk?” one of the girls asked.

“Yes I do. It’s right over there,” Marvin said, pointing into the crowd. Sherry couldn’t tell which desk he was pointing at, because they all looked occupied at the moment.

They made their way around the room, carefully keeping out of the way of all the busy policemen and women running around. Marvin led them around the room without a snag and through a door in the back, herding them through the crowded room effortlessly. They entered a long, wide hallway lined with display cases that were filled with medals, plaques, awards, and a huge assortment of newspaper clippings arranged like an intricate mosaic of images.

“We call this the Hall of Fame,” Marvin said. “Awards that the department has received, or that individual officers were given, are on display here. There’s also a lot of newspaper articles showing off some of the things we’ve accomplished.”

“Are there any articles about you?” someone asked.

Marvin grinned. “Maybe there are.”

Sherry wanted to stay there and read the articles, but Marvin led them down the hall and to another large room filled with messy desks, ringing phones, clicking typewriters, and more busy people. Mrs. Gaffey hadn’t been kidding when she said the police officers were busy. Marvin showed off the room but did not walk them through it. They continued down the hall where he showed them the totally disorganized file rooms and the evidence lockers.

“Do you keep criminals here?” another girl asked.

“Yes, but not for very long,” Marvin explained. “When we arrest someone, we put them in the lock-up downstairs. After we finish all the paperwork, get their fingerprints, file charges, and all that boring stuff, then we usually transfer them to the jail.”

As the tour continued, Sherry came to realize that the police station was even larger than it first looked when she stepped off the bus. There was a huge underground section, where the jail cells, car garage, armory, and maintenance areas were all located. Marvin only led them up to the second floor, while Sherry guessed the station was at least three stories tall. The place was simply gigantic. She wished she could take the time to explore the entire building, but she doubted that would ever happen. Unless she became a police officer when she grew up, all she could get was a short tour like this.

As Marvin led them down the hall, he pointed at some doors to their left, which had a large emblem painted on. “Special Tactics and Rescue Squad,” Sherry said to herself, reading the words underneath.

“This is the office for the S.T.A.R.S. teams,” Marvin explained. “Do you any of you know what those are?”

“Are they special police?” one of the girls asked.

“They are,” Marvin said with a nod. “They’re a very special unit here. They perform rescue missions and other special missions. Unfortunately, I can’t bring you into the office because they do very important work. Plus,” he added with a chuckle, “the office is pretty small, so I’m not sure we’d all even fit in there.”

Just as he began to lead them back down the hall, the door to the office opened up and woman came out. She was engrossed in some paperwork in her hand and almost ran right into some of the girls in Sherry’s class. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!” she apologized. She was a pretty young woman with short reddish hair, wearing a short-sleeved green shirt and dark green cargo pants. She gave the girls a nervous little wave and then went down the hall.

One of the students asked, “Is she one of the special police officers?”

“She is,” Marvin answered. “Her name is Rebecca, and she just joined one of the S.T.A.R.S. teams this week. Maybe if one of you wants to be a police officer when you grow up, you could join S.T.A.R.S. as well. Does anyone of you want to be a police officer?”

The girls giggled and looked around at each other, unsure if any of them did. Sherry knew that most of them, like herself, came from wealthy families, so she doubted any of them would pursue a career in law enforcement. Some of the girls in her class already talked about being doctors or lawyers like their parents. Marvin didn’t seem disappointed that none of them wanted to be a cop like him.

Sherry decided to ask a question. “Why do some police officers wear regular clothes and some have to wear uniforms?”

“The police officers who wear uniforms are the ones who drive police cars and patrol the streets on a regular basis,” Marvin said. “But detectives and other special officers don’t have to wear uniforms.”

“Why not?”

“Well, you all wear uniforms at your school, right? But your teachers don’t have to wear them.”

“Does that mean you’re just a student policeman?” she asked, trying to sound innocent instead of sarcastic.

Marvin laughed heartily. “I just mean that the people in charge don’t have to wear uniforms and the people they boss around do have to wear them.”

“Why aren’t you in charge?”

“Because I like being a regular cop. Maybe someday I’ll get promoted, but right now I’m happy where I am.”

After seeing the rest of the second floor, Marvin led them back downstairs, where they completed their tour. They went through another doorway and the girls found themselves back in the main lobby. Mrs. Gaffey and the boys were already there waiting for them. The two groups rejoined each other and Mrs. Gaffey said, “Thank you, Officer Branagh, for taking the girls around. I trust they behaved well.”

“They were fine. Asked some good questions.”

One of the boys interrupted. “Hey, Mrs. Gaffey wouldn’t show us where you keep all the guns and stuff. Can you show us?”

“Sorry, kid. It’s a secret,” he said, shaking his head. “If you want to see the guns, you’ll have to be a police officer.”

“Does anyone have any intelligent questions for Officer Branagh?” Mrs. Gaffey said, glancing angrily at the boy who’d asked about guns.

No one did, so she gathered them up and led them back out the front door. The bus was already parked at the curb, waiting for them to climb aboard. Sherry looked back at the enormous building, wishing she could get a complete tour of the place.

Before they got back on the bus, Marvin said, “Remember kids, if you ever have a problem, you can always find a police officer to help you. That’s what we’re here for. If you ever need help, if you’re ever scared or in danger, a police officer will help you. And if you can’t find one, you can always come right to the police station for help. We’re open twenty-four hours a day. Any time you’re in trouble, you can come to the police station for help.”

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