The seven surviving men of the Blue Ridge precinct, Christmas Eve morning, engaged in their usual 8:45-8:55 rituals, even if just in their cars owing to the inclement weather.
Everyone looked balefully at the light at the back of the trailer indicated that Captain Lee was already in the office.
Everyone looked through their de-fogged windows pitifully at everyone else as 8:55 approached – because no one would dare be late.
But, at the same time, a lot of the sting had gone out of this ritual.
The Blue Ridge precinct's survivors had been called the laziest men in Lofton County's policing before the Ridgeline Fire and its damnably poor performance – now, they were known to be among its most fit and prepared.
Instead of being a place where policemen were put out to pasture, now you had to reach a high minimum standard to even be added back – and only seven men had made the cut.
That was really all that was needed, given that half of the precinct area was ashes, washing down the hill.
But these seven men … they felt differently on Christmas Eve 2019 then they had in previous years.
They had not enjoyed the process at all – Captain Lee had pushed them to the limits physically, mentally, emotionally … and some of their friends who didn't make the cut would never forgive him all that time in racial sensitivity training they had to spend to even be considered.
However, each man, upon getting out of the car, could once again admire the physique of his fellow officer, and see the total readiness for the day mirrored in each one.
This was Captain Lee's present for his men, at the end of 2019.
They were still trying to hate him for it, but it was getting harder and harder.
“What do you think – it's Christmas Eve,” Officer Treatmore said to Officer Riker. “He's not going to do some crazy drill today, I hope.”
“This would be the kind of day that Lee would actually pull some mess like that – but at least we are doing drills in the cars now,” Officer Riker said.
“Yeah, for like the last day – had us out fighting this weather through the 20th! That man is insufferable!” Officer Treatmore cried.
“But maybe he brought us some more apples or something … and on the 28th, we say goodbye to this horrid leaking thing forever,” Officer Baxter said.
“Don't go getting sweet on him, Baxter!” Officer Kern said.
“I'm just saying, let's be fair,” Officer Baxter said.
Sure enough – 9:10am – just enough time to get good and warm and comfortable so far as that was possible in a leaky, drafty trailer – drill time. However, upon the return to the precinct trailer, someone had laid out a world-class Christmas brunch for the tired, cold, angry men.
Captain Lee always kept a personal “project bag” for any unit he worked with. He was a wealthy Spartan, having spent very little of his Army pay, and moreover having inherited a Slocum-Lofton trust fund … he himself needed little of material things, but he accounted for the way others were, and knew his seven survivors of the old way things were done were suffering that loss. It was Christmas Eve and they would not be together for Christmas, so... .
“Surprise, gentlemen,” he purred when they all got back to the trailer. “Of course this required setup time, and there was no need to waste that time, so … .”
Officer Kern just turned around and walked back outside into the rain for a minute, and then came back gritting his teeth.
“Sir, do you ever relax? It's Christmas Eve, already – couldn't we just have gotten warm and then been greeted with this brunch and just had a regular holiday kind of day?”
Captain Lee considered that with grim face, and then slowly smiled.
“How you do think I keep from having Santa Claus bod at nearly 46 years old, Officer?”
The men all looked at themselves … for the first time in years, none of them would fit that red suit either.
“You've got to burn off some calories to make room for more, Officer, so you see how I am looking out for us. At the beginning of the year in the fitness assessment, at a time in which most of our colleagues are going to be out of trim, we are going to come out on top and set the standard for the rest.”
The officers hadn't considered that.
“Yeah, the assessment is on the 3rd … yeah, we're really close to winning that.”
“We are going to win it, gentlemen, provided we don't privately do too much overeating tomorrow through New Year,” Captain Lee said. “I hear that the Western precinct is desperately trying to compete with us, but ...”
“Oh, no, they don't!”
Nothing like a good old-fashioned sense of competition to encourage good behavior, even though that still was a setup for later events.
“I can't stand this man!” Officer Treatmore yelled to the air in his patrol car as he was driving it in yet another drill. “I should have known that whole competition business was his way of saying that after we ate there would be another calorie burn-off through more drills!”
Captain Lee, riding on the passenger side with Officer Baxter, could see Officer Treatmore's pitch-perfect formation driving and also him yelling at the air. The captain kept a straight face, but inside, he was smiling, imagining the look on all the faces of the precinct officers who now thought themselves better than the disgraced Blue Ridge precinct officers when said Blue Ridge officers walked off with the highest ranking in terms of fitness and readiness.
Y'all will be happy enough then, my new blue unit, he thought to himself. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good drill performance!
Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay
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