The prompt:     Make a short list of warning signs

Yield, stop, falling rocks, railroad crossing, all employees must wash hands before returning to work.


The car was probably traveling faster than safety would dictate.  It had almost made it.  The sign on the mountain road had read “Falling Rocks” and showed a cliff with rocks in mid air.  It certainly didn’t show a little car next to the cliff.

The ambulance showed up fifteen minutes after the call was received.  Why the other cops hadn’t intercepted it, we’ll never know.  There was no need for medical attention.  The coroner’s office could send someone up to scrape the bodies out of the car after the jaws of life were finished.  My partner was still looking a bit green around the gills, but he soldiered on like a trooper.  We had finished interviewing the students who found the car and called the incident in.  The poor kids were a bit green themselves, and I sent them on their way as soon as I could.

Harry, my new partner, was poking around the car still.

“Hey,” I said, “you’ll wanna be careful there.  The cliff was unstable enough for those poor schlubs.  I’d hate to lose a partner to a rock slide on his first day.”

He looked up at the cliff, then back at the rear seat of the car.  The roof had been peeled back to expose the bodies, and the interior was wide open.  “Yo, Fred, you’ll wanna see this.”

I walked up beside Harry and looked down at an arsenal.  These mooks were carrying more firepower than our entire department had.  I hadn’t seen some of these weapons since Viet Nam.  Piled on the back seat of the unidentifiable sedan were M-16s, a couple of heavier M-60s, and a crate of claymores.  The claymore is one of the best anti-personnel weapons ever invented.  It’s a plastic rectangular box with a curved front face with a little note saying “This side toward enemy.”  The plastic is filled with explosives and ball bearings.  On the floor were ammo crates for the .223 and .30 cal weapons.  What the hell had we stepped into here?

It seems that these two guys (I think they were guys, from the length of the hairs sticking up out of the mush in the front seats.  These days, who knew.)  Anyways, it seems these two were on their way to do something very bad when mother nature or fate stepped in and stopped them.

“Harry, do me a favor and call this in from the car.  We’ll need a CSI team and some higher ups .”  Harry headed over to our unit, and I started taking pictures with the camera.  I did a complete 360 around the car, and included the mush brothers.  Then I did something I thought I’d never do.  I reached in and grabbed one of the claymores.  I don’t know why.  Maybe it’s every boys dream to blow something up with a loud “Boom!” and a hail of ball bearings.  I made sure that I got the box with the tripod and igniter grip.  I stashed it in my scene bag resting at my feet.

Harry came back and let me know they were on their way.  He started poking around the weapons and I waved him away.  “Better wait for the Crime Scene boys.”

Harry said “I told dispatch to get the Feds in on this.  I suspect the Feebies will take it over, and then ATF will take it out of their hands, and then Homeland Security will throw a blanket over it and we won’t have to do so much paperwork.  How’s that?”

Lord help me.  I finally got a smart one.

“Yo, Freddie, do you think they would miss it if I just happened to disappear one of those?  I suspect one of those machine guns would look pretty cool above the fireplace out at the deer camp. What do ya say? “

“Oh, go ahead, but be quick about it.  I’ll have to re-shoot the photos so they don’t get the inventory screwed up.  Put it in the trunk.  And hey, put the crime scene bag in there with it.  I’m pretty sure we won’t be needing the kit with all of the alphabet soup boys on the way.”

I liked this kid.  He thought a lot like me.


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