In Remembrance of Me-Chapter 4
Over the next several hours, into the early morning, Eugene Tackleberry faded in and out of existence, wondering about Jessica's condition. Finally the doctor approached him at a point where the former police officer was in the hospital, sitting in a chair outside Jessica's room.
"You're, ah."-he checked the clipboard with the patient's name- ".Jessica Tackleberry's husband, right?"
"Yes, I am," Eugene answered, rising to his feet. Standing at slightly over six feet or so, with his shiny black leather boots on, he seemed to tower above the somewhat shorter man in front of him. "What's the status of her condition?"
"We've been checking her every so often, and from what I last saw she is coming into consciousness again," the ER doctor informed him. "Hopefully, she'll remain awake this time around."
"May I go in and see her?" Eugene asked.
"Well, I don't know," the other man replied. "You see, she's experienced some moderate head trauma, and I don't think." He was about to continue when his voice trailed off as Eugene pulled out his long-barreled silver handgun.
"Will you let me see my wife, or do you want your head blown off?" Tackleberry asked as he trained the weapon on the doctor's forehead. His face was deathly serious and he widened his eyes angrily for effect.
"Y-yes, yes," the doctor stammered, backing away from the officer staring him down. "G-go ah-head in, M-mister T-tackleberry, sir." He motioned for Eugene to go into the room. The tall motorcycle officer slid his gun back into its holster at his hip, nodded in thanks, the killer expression now gone from his face but still serious, and strode away. Once he reached the doorway, he paused for a moment and looked in at Jessica. She had intravenous tubes in her arm and a respirator tube in one side of her mouth, clamped between her teeth, to keep oxygen going to her brain. She was breathing on her own, though; her eyes were closed, like she was sleeping. Eugene quietly stepped inside the recovery room and pulled up a chair, then he sat next to the bed where Jessica was lying.
"Hey, Jess," he said softly, taking her left hand in both of his. "How're you feeling?" At that moment, Jessica began to come around completely: her eyelids fluttered and slowly opened, and a slight groan escaped her lips. She turned her head carefully to look at Eugene.
"Hey," she answered weakly with a strained smile, releasing the respirator tube from her teeth. "I feel like my head's about to explode, but I think I'll live." She observed the concerned expression on Eugene's face.
"You've been worried, haven't you?"
"You have no idea," Eugene said, kissing her hand. "I'm just glad you're conscious now. The doctor said you were alternately waking up and going out cold again." Without realizing what was happening, his wife experienced a very fleeting spell of short-term memory loss.
"Sweetie?" Jessica suddenly asked, her voice almost sounding like a little girl's.
"What is it, my sharp-shootin' girl?"
"How did I end up here? What happened to me?" Her expression went from a pained smile to one of child-like fear.
"It's okay, you'll be fine," her husband quickly assured her. "You're at St. Francis Hospital of Greater Los Angeles. You went into the living room at home and a man struck you by smashing your favorite lamp over your head." When he said this, it seemed to all flood back to her in an instant. Jess looked away and winced from the motion, then gazed up at the ceiling and gave another groan.
"Oh, God," she muttered in annoyance. "Now I remember everything.the man, the lamp coming down on me. I loved that lamp!" Her voice rose as she went through her sentence, the last words coming almost as a full- throated yell. She grimaced after that because yelling hurt her head.
Jessica sighed. "And then after that, everything went black." She shook her bandaged head slightly as she leaned against the pillow.
"You can always get another," Eugene told her. "It's you that can't be replaced. There aren't two of you, you know." He looked lovingly at his still-living wife, reached over, and pushed her hair back.
"Yeah, you're right," Jessica said with a sigh. She turned her head towards her husband again and smiled once more; this time she appeared to be a little stronger. One of them was about to say something else when suddenly a head popped in through the doorway, followed by more heads, all craning to see Jessica.
"Jessica! Are you okay?" Hooks asked in her small voice, hurrying over to the bed. "We heard about you getting injured and came to see how you were doing."
"Hi there, Hooks," the reclining United States Mounted Police Corps officer said, directing her gaze to the short black female officer from the Metropolitan Police Department. The others began to walk in one after the other, until all were gathered around the bed. "I must look pretty bad, huh?" Jessica smiled sadly.
"No way, baby girl," Hightower assured her. "You don't look bad at all. Sure, you're down for a little bit, but you'll be back on your feet and riding high again in no time." He reached for her hand and took it in his larger one, then ever so gently squeezed it. Fackler spoke up; he had been kept away from any hospital equipment, so he stood near the foot of Jessica's bed.
"We were so worried about you, Jess," he said, concern etched on his face. "I mean, we were afraid you were more seriously hurt than this, or even killed." Jessica shook her head.
"No, I'm not going to let a broken lamp to the head kill me," came the reply from the girl lying there, who smiled slightly. While everyone was telling Jessica about how worried they had been and that she would be okay, Eugene heard two voices out in the hall, and very familiar ones at that.
"Proctor, do you realize what this means?" one voice said.
"I'm not sure, sir," answered the other, then, "OUCH!" as there was a sharp thwap! Tackleberry got up and went to the doorway, then peeked out. Sure enough, Captain Harris and his lackey Proctor were out in the hall, Proctor holding one hand in pain from being slapped with Harris's baton.
"Of course you don't, I don't expect a complete idiot like you to know what this means!" Harris hissed angrily at his none-too-bright sidekick. "But I do, and for me it means that, until Lieutenant Tackleberry is up and about-which won't be for a while, hopefully- Commandant Lassard doesn't have his niece standing as a roadblock on my path to power. With the lieutenant currently down for the count, now is the time for m-I mean, us to take action! A chance like this only comes along once in a lifetime, and I aim to seize it! The position of police commandant will be mine!" Harris laughed evilly. As he watched, Eugene felt a sly smile coming across his face, and he had an idea. He shimmered away, then reappeared quietly behind Harris and Proctor. While Thaddeus Harris continued on about his brilliant plan, Proctor felt someone in back of him; slowly he turned around and saw Tackleberry standing there, arms folded over his chest. The expression on the taller officer's face said it all: he had overheard him and Harris talking, and knew every word of what was discussed. Proctor tapped his superior on the shoulder.
"Um, sir?" he said nervously.
"Not now, Proctor. I need to devise my master plan so that I can overthrow Commandant Lassard and-" A voice from behind finished up his thought.
"Take over the academy." Harris and Proctor, recognizing the voice, both looked over their shoulders and up at Sergeant Tackleberry. He glared at the two shorter officers with a cool, yet intimidating, expression on his face. "Care to repeat that, Harris?"
"Wh-what?!" stammered the captain. "Sergeant Tackleberry?! But, how did you-I thought you were-"
"I can go wherever I please," Eugene went on. "And you'd best leave Jessica's uncle alone, or else." Out of nowhere he pulled two semi- automatic M-16 rifles and cocked them, an obvious threat to open fire should he catch them up to their devious deeds. "You can say hello to my little friends. So, my warning is simple: I catch you trying to remove Commandant Lassard from his position and this'll happen." Tackleberry pointed the barrels upward and fired off a few warning shots from both rifles.
"I think that's easy enough for you to do, right?" He then aimed the weapons at Captain Harris and Proctor, a tough-guy smirk on his face. "Now, if you'd like to be really nice, you can go in and visit Jessica. Otherwise, get out." He brought his face down towards them, that fearsome glare on his face again, on the last sentence. Thaddeus Harris and Proctor leaned back, away from Eugene, then turned tail and ran down the hall.
"Hnh." The motorcycle officer tossed both M-16's from his hands and they disappeared into non-existence. "Gets them every time." He then walked back into Jessica's room, where his fellow officers had been chattering away with the downed lieutenant. She turned to see him in the doorway, as did the other members of the Metropolitan Police Department. Except for Jess, everyone else in the room had shocked expressions on their faces.
"Hi, again," she said. "What'd you go outside for?"
"Had to go chase away a couple of, uh, pests," Eugene replied, stepping back into the room. "They're gone. So, how's the head, Daredevil?" He used the nickname he had given her a while ago, when they first met on an assignment.
"It's a little better," she murmured. "Everyone's been telling me that they were really concerned after I got whacked in the head, and they hope I mend soon." What the other officers could not fathom was the fact that Eugene Tackleberry, who had been dead and gone for a couple of years, was standing here before them. He could tell what they were thinking.
"It's okay, everyone," he said, smiling. A golden glow appeared to emanate from him as he explained. "I'm an angel come from heaven. Manifestation is a special ability that I'm endowed with now. I don't want any of you thinking I'm one of the 'undead' or something." Jessica smiled as he came forward and hugged each of his living colleagues. Their surprise melted away into realization that even though he was no longer physically present to them, he was still among them as they worked and went about their lives. Everyone present, from Hightower to Fackler, welcomed him warmly, now feeling sorry they had put Eugene's death behind them and never gave another thought as to how alive he actually was. Hooks even broke down in tears as Sergeant Tackleberry put his arms around her. Jessica closed her eyes and rested, happy that the crew was reunited once again.
Over the next several hours, into the early morning, Eugene Tackleberry faded in and out of existence, wondering about Jessica's condition. Finally the doctor approached him at a point where the former police officer was in the hospital, sitting in a chair outside Jessica's room.
"You're, ah."-he checked the clipboard with the patient's name- ".Jessica Tackleberry's husband, right?"
"Yes, I am," Eugene answered, rising to his feet. Standing at slightly over six feet or so, with his shiny black leather boots on, he seemed to tower above the somewhat shorter man in front of him. "What's the status of her condition?"
"We've been checking her every so often, and from what I last saw she is coming into consciousness again," the ER doctor informed him. "Hopefully, she'll remain awake this time around."
"May I go in and see her?" Eugene asked.
"Well, I don't know," the other man replied. "You see, she's experienced some moderate head trauma, and I don't think." He was about to continue when his voice trailed off as Eugene pulled out his long-barreled silver handgun.
"Will you let me see my wife, or do you want your head blown off?" Tackleberry asked as he trained the weapon on the doctor's forehead. His face was deathly serious and he widened his eyes angrily for effect.
"Y-yes, yes," the doctor stammered, backing away from the officer staring him down. "G-go ah-head in, M-mister T-tackleberry, sir." He motioned for Eugene to go into the room. The tall motorcycle officer slid his gun back into its holster at his hip, nodded in thanks, the killer expression now gone from his face but still serious, and strode away. Once he reached the doorway, he paused for a moment and looked in at Jessica. She had intravenous tubes in her arm and a respirator tube in one side of her mouth, clamped between her teeth, to keep oxygen going to her brain. She was breathing on her own, though; her eyes were closed, like she was sleeping. Eugene quietly stepped inside the recovery room and pulled up a chair, then he sat next to the bed where Jessica was lying.
"Hey, Jess," he said softly, taking her left hand in both of his. "How're you feeling?" At that moment, Jessica began to come around completely: her eyelids fluttered and slowly opened, and a slight groan escaped her lips. She turned her head carefully to look at Eugene.
"Hey," she answered weakly with a strained smile, releasing the respirator tube from her teeth. "I feel like my head's about to explode, but I think I'll live." She observed the concerned expression on Eugene's face.
"You've been worried, haven't you?"
"You have no idea," Eugene said, kissing her hand. "I'm just glad you're conscious now. The doctor said you were alternately waking up and going out cold again." Without realizing what was happening, his wife experienced a very fleeting spell of short-term memory loss.
"Sweetie?" Jessica suddenly asked, her voice almost sounding like a little girl's.
"What is it, my sharp-shootin' girl?"
"How did I end up here? What happened to me?" Her expression went from a pained smile to one of child-like fear.
"It's okay, you'll be fine," her husband quickly assured her. "You're at St. Francis Hospital of Greater Los Angeles. You went into the living room at home and a man struck you by smashing your favorite lamp over your head." When he said this, it seemed to all flood back to her in an instant. Jess looked away and winced from the motion, then gazed up at the ceiling and gave another groan.
"Oh, God," she muttered in annoyance. "Now I remember everything.the man, the lamp coming down on me. I loved that lamp!" Her voice rose as she went through her sentence, the last words coming almost as a full- throated yell. She grimaced after that because yelling hurt her head.
Jessica sighed. "And then after that, everything went black." She shook her bandaged head slightly as she leaned against the pillow.
"You can always get another," Eugene told her. "It's you that can't be replaced. There aren't two of you, you know." He looked lovingly at his still-living wife, reached over, and pushed her hair back.
"Yeah, you're right," Jessica said with a sigh. She turned her head towards her husband again and smiled once more; this time she appeared to be a little stronger. One of them was about to say something else when suddenly a head popped in through the doorway, followed by more heads, all craning to see Jessica.
"Jessica! Are you okay?" Hooks asked in her small voice, hurrying over to the bed. "We heard about you getting injured and came to see how you were doing."
"Hi there, Hooks," the reclining United States Mounted Police Corps officer said, directing her gaze to the short black female officer from the Metropolitan Police Department. The others began to walk in one after the other, until all were gathered around the bed. "I must look pretty bad, huh?" Jessica smiled sadly.
"No way, baby girl," Hightower assured her. "You don't look bad at all. Sure, you're down for a little bit, but you'll be back on your feet and riding high again in no time." He reached for her hand and took it in his larger one, then ever so gently squeezed it. Fackler spoke up; he had been kept away from any hospital equipment, so he stood near the foot of Jessica's bed.
"We were so worried about you, Jess," he said, concern etched on his face. "I mean, we were afraid you were more seriously hurt than this, or even killed." Jessica shook her head.
"No, I'm not going to let a broken lamp to the head kill me," came the reply from the girl lying there, who smiled slightly. While everyone was telling Jessica about how worried they had been and that she would be okay, Eugene heard two voices out in the hall, and very familiar ones at that.
"Proctor, do you realize what this means?" one voice said.
"I'm not sure, sir," answered the other, then, "OUCH!" as there was a sharp thwap! Tackleberry got up and went to the doorway, then peeked out. Sure enough, Captain Harris and his lackey Proctor were out in the hall, Proctor holding one hand in pain from being slapped with Harris's baton.
"Of course you don't, I don't expect a complete idiot like you to know what this means!" Harris hissed angrily at his none-too-bright sidekick. "But I do, and for me it means that, until Lieutenant Tackleberry is up and about-which won't be for a while, hopefully- Commandant Lassard doesn't have his niece standing as a roadblock on my path to power. With the lieutenant currently down for the count, now is the time for m-I mean, us to take action! A chance like this only comes along once in a lifetime, and I aim to seize it! The position of police commandant will be mine!" Harris laughed evilly. As he watched, Eugene felt a sly smile coming across his face, and he had an idea. He shimmered away, then reappeared quietly behind Harris and Proctor. While Thaddeus Harris continued on about his brilliant plan, Proctor felt someone in back of him; slowly he turned around and saw Tackleberry standing there, arms folded over his chest. The expression on the taller officer's face said it all: he had overheard him and Harris talking, and knew every word of what was discussed. Proctor tapped his superior on the shoulder.
"Um, sir?" he said nervously.
"Not now, Proctor. I need to devise my master plan so that I can overthrow Commandant Lassard and-" A voice from behind finished up his thought.
"Take over the academy." Harris and Proctor, recognizing the voice, both looked over their shoulders and up at Sergeant Tackleberry. He glared at the two shorter officers with a cool, yet intimidating, expression on his face. "Care to repeat that, Harris?"
"Wh-what?!" stammered the captain. "Sergeant Tackleberry?! But, how did you-I thought you were-"
"I can go wherever I please," Eugene went on. "And you'd best leave Jessica's uncle alone, or else." Out of nowhere he pulled two semi- automatic M-16 rifles and cocked them, an obvious threat to open fire should he catch them up to their devious deeds. "You can say hello to my little friends. So, my warning is simple: I catch you trying to remove Commandant Lassard from his position and this'll happen." Tackleberry pointed the barrels upward and fired off a few warning shots from both rifles.
"I think that's easy enough for you to do, right?" He then aimed the weapons at Captain Harris and Proctor, a tough-guy smirk on his face. "Now, if you'd like to be really nice, you can go in and visit Jessica. Otherwise, get out." He brought his face down towards them, that fearsome glare on his face again, on the last sentence. Thaddeus Harris and Proctor leaned back, away from Eugene, then turned tail and ran down the hall.
"Hnh." The motorcycle officer tossed both M-16's from his hands and they disappeared into non-existence. "Gets them every time." He then walked back into Jessica's room, where his fellow officers had been chattering away with the downed lieutenant. She turned to see him in the doorway, as did the other members of the Metropolitan Police Department. Except for Jess, everyone else in the room had shocked expressions on their faces.
"Hi, again," she said. "What'd you go outside for?"
"Had to go chase away a couple of, uh, pests," Eugene replied, stepping back into the room. "They're gone. So, how's the head, Daredevil?" He used the nickname he had given her a while ago, when they first met on an assignment.
"It's a little better," she murmured. "Everyone's been telling me that they were really concerned after I got whacked in the head, and they hope I mend soon." What the other officers could not fathom was the fact that Eugene Tackleberry, who had been dead and gone for a couple of years, was standing here before them. He could tell what they were thinking.
"It's okay, everyone," he said, smiling. A golden glow appeared to emanate from him as he explained. "I'm an angel come from heaven. Manifestation is a special ability that I'm endowed with now. I don't want any of you thinking I'm one of the 'undead' or something." Jessica smiled as he came forward and hugged each of his living colleagues. Their surprise melted away into realization that even though he was no longer physically present to them, he was still among them as they worked and went about their lives. Everyone present, from Hightower to Fackler, welcomed him warmly, now feeling sorry they had put Eugene's death behind them and never gave another thought as to how alive he actually was. Hooks even broke down in tears as Sergeant Tackleberry put his arms around her. Jessica closed her eyes and rested, happy that the crew was reunited once again.