Chapter 18 — The Call You Never Forget
The radio exploded with the call.
Officer assaulted.
Cal ran.
Retirement countdown disappeared. Sore knees disappeared. The corridor narrowed to the location transmitted over the radio.
He reached the area and saw Reyes.
Blood.
That was all Cal processed first.
An inmate had cut Reyes with an improvised weapon. Other staff secured the attacker. Medical moved in. Cal went directly to Reyes.
"Where?"
Reyes indicated the injury.
"Sit."
"I'm good."
"Sit."
Reyes obeyed.
The wound was serious enough to shake everyone who saw it, even if it was not immediately life-threatening. After treatment, when the adrenaline began to fall, Reyes stared at his own hands.
They were trembling.
Cal saw him notice.
"I don't know if I can do this anymore," Reyes said.
Years earlier Cal might have answered badly.
Toughen up.
Part of the job.
You'll be fine.
Instead he said, "Then don't decide today."
Reyes looked toward him. "What if I'm done?"
"Then you're done."
"What would people say?"
"Does it matter?"
"What would you do?"
Cal sat beside him. "Go home. Let the adrenaline wear off.
Let your wife see you're not okay."
Reyes laughed weakly. "You're really stuck on that word."
"Yeah."
Mike's face passed through Cal's mind.
"Yeah, I am."
Reyes took time off. Cal did not know whether he would return. On the third day they talked. Reyes still was not sure.
Then one morning Cal walked onto the unit and found Reyes in uniform.
"Thought you quit," Cal said.
"Thought you retired."
"Still working."
"Unfortunately."
Cal walked closer. "You okay?"
Reyes considered the question instead of reaching for the automatic answer.
"Nervous."
Cal nodded. "Good answer."
Fear had not disappeared.
At Living Hope that week, the message was about courage.
Cal listened differently.
Courage was not the absence of fear.
Sometimes courage meant running toward an officer in trouble.
Sometimes it meant returning after being cut.
Sometimes it meant telling your wife you were scared.
Sometimes it meant walking into counseling.
Sometimes it meant admitting the word fine was a lie.
Cal was beginning to understand that some of the most important work of his life might start after the uniform came off.
Continue the story.
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