On the way back, Jimmy learned some about the AP training from Jacob. It sounded like a lot with 16 weeks, but actually it was quite simple since APs are volunteers, and most people have jobs; they just come to training during their time off, which is very flexible and not too difficult.
"Jimmy, I've never asked you before, why do you want to be an AP? I heard from Jon that you only do temporary work and don't even have a fixed place to live."
"Before yesterday, I had never thought about the definition of a sense of security. Before yesterday, I'd never had a gun pointed at me, never been handcuffed and taken to the police station, and hadn't even thought about dying in a shootout. Even when I was wandering before, I didn't run into so many problems."
Jimmy raised his hands, trembling slightly as he spoke.
"I need some sense of security. Yesterday, when you talked about AP, I thought it might be good to have some connection to the police and learn some self-defense. In a way, APs are a kind of police, right?"
"Hahaha, Jimmy, don't be so nervous. This is Arkansas, not California, there's not that much crime. But maybe you do need a gun."
"Maybe, but I can't get a gun permit right now."
"Well, good luck then."
It was the same old story at the restaurant: boring, tedious, and busy. Jimmy moved his tent to a green park near the restaurant, settling in a secluded corner, which saved him at least two hours of commuting every day.
The day after signing up, he received a notification from the police station to start his 16 weeks of training. It sounded long, but it was just about accumulating enough hours. Jimmy was diligent, focusing mainly on legal and patrol training. For him, first aid was something he had learned before and physical fitness wasn't a big issue for a 19-year-old. His nutrition was good due to working at the restaurant, and he had mostly recovered from his previous state of malnourishment. Paired with his regular exercise, he could be considered a strong young man now.
He was originally planning on temporary work, but now he had become a regular employee of the restaurant, of course with a bit of a raise. After working for over two months, everyone, Jon included, was satisfied with him. Jon was even willing to help him rent an apartment two blocks away from the restaurant, though it was a bit expensive. For Jimmy, being originally Chinese with no money on hand was too frightening, living in a tent with two meals provided by the restaurant, his expenses were just the basics: a few clothes and a thick sleeping bag.
Most of the salary Jon paid him had been banked. For someone lacking a sense of security, being poor was even more frightening, and at the same time, he had gotten his first credit card.
...
As December approached, Jon gave everyone the Thanksgiving holiday off but left the restaurant to Jimmy, who could cook for himself there.
Thanksgiving had nothing to do with Jimmy. He was alone in the kitchen, looking at the ingredients in the fridge; he could barely put together a serving of braised pork and a beef with tomatoes, which was very good. Jimmy turned on the restaurant's music, humming a song he had recently learned while making dinner for himself.
The restaurant's phone rang, and Jimmy ran to the cashier to answer it.
"Hi, Jimmy, it's Amy."
"Hi, Amy, Happy Thanksgiving."
"Happy Thanksgiving. Jimmy, do you have time tonight? We need support."
"Today? Now? Gosh, is my first support mission going to be on a day when everyone is celebrating?"
"I'm sorry, yes, today. You're the only one who's single in the AP registry, and on a day like today, nobody else can come."
"Okay, wait an hour for me. I'm all yours tonight."
Jimmy started a second pressure cooker, throwing all the ingredients in and setting it for 40 minutes, then cooked himself some rice. While waiting, he also made a large vegetable salad. When the time was up, the beef with tomatoes was okay, but the braised pork was just boiled meat with extra water, not a big deal. He packed rice and the dishes into food containers from the store and waited at the restaurant entrance for a while before taking a reserved taxi to the police station.
"Hi, Noah." "Hi, Jimmy."
Jimmy entered the police station. Since it was Thanksgiving, there were few people inside, not a shift change, and most were out patrolling.
"Hi, Amy, would you like to try my cooking? You called just as I was making food."
"Oh, sweetheart, you're too kind." Amy accepted the invitation with a smile.
Amy was the sheriff's assistant, mainly responsible for various files and personnel management. To avoid any misunderstanding, it should be mentioned that Amy was over 50 years old and had been at the police station for over 20 years.
Jimmy opened his food box on the empty table next to him, took out the prepared paper lunch boxes, and got one ready for both Amy and himself, guessing there were about three servings left.
"Amy, there's still more, about three servings. Who else is on duty today? Do you want to distribute them?"
"No problem." Amy took the three servings and walked out of her office, returning shortly after.
"The flavor's not bad; I like the beef."
"Thanks for the compliment. What have you got me doing tonight?"
"You'll be patrolling with Noah, about 3-4 hours."
"OK."
…
This was the first time Jimmy wore the full gear. The uniform was the county police's, with an AP badge, a pair of handcuffs, a baton, a flashlight, a pen, and a notebook—very simple.
Since AP officers didn't have the power to enforce the law and could only assist, including patrolling the streets, providing security for large events, and helping with investigations, they weren't equipped with guns and had no lethal force at their disposal. Even if an individual had a gun license, they could not use their own gun during service with the AP. All they had was a baton for defense.
At 8 PM, Jimmy got into Noah's car and started his first AP patrol.
Noah, seeing Jimmy still gripping the baton while sitting in the passenger seat, laughed and said, "Don't be nervous; it's just routine patrol. If anything happens, you just need to be observant on the road. You don't need to chase after suspects or enter rooms. Bottom line, you're safe."
"OK, I'll try to relax, no problem."
Jimmy put the baton back in its holder and let himself slouch in the seat as much as he could relax. In the United States, responding to a call differed from responding to a fire back home. A fire focused on rescuing people and putting out the flames, but here, the priority was not to put oneself in danger.
"Noah, how many years have you been a cop?"
"8 or 9 years. Don't worry; I'll look after you, no need to fret."
"Oh, I wanted to ask, which is generally more dangerous, day or night?"
"Definitely night. It's okay before 10 PM, but after midnight, if we get a call, it's very easy for gunfire to break out. This is the South—guns are life. That's why we usually don't assign AP officers to provide support at night. Today's a bit tricky, several colleagues are on vacation, and there's been a staffing issue."
"Great, looks like my first patrol isn't coming at the best time."
"Adam47, destruction of public property, West 11th Street. Multiple calls claim someone is spraying graffiti on the walls of the municipal plaza."
"Adam47, copy that."
Noah turned on the sirens and headed for the target location.