May One

15.

Even a director with entry level visual skills would love this, thinks Davis as they pull the inanimate Saunders fully into the brush just as the fire truck rounds the corner. As much as he would love to yell ‘cut and wrap’ their work is a long way from done. 

He looks opposite the road to see if the two others are also safely concealed and considers the odds - and in turn his response - should one of the first responders find the cell phone as it lays in the road contrasted as a lump of coal might on a field of fresh snow. 

The three firefighters waste no time in extinguishing the truck fire. Davis takes advantage of the commotion to fish his cell from his backpack and hit speed-dial number one. He enters the text: May One. He checks Saunders’ condition and, satisfied, returns his focus to the situation. The fire contained, two of the responders begin clean-up as the third is taking field notes. He is looking around putting pieces of the puzzle together, looking, thinking, writing.  “He is going to find the cell phone,” thinks Davis.

From their camouflaged cover Davis can hear the fire truck radio, a loud cacophony of static and distortion. The responder HAS to be connecting the dots between the truck, the fire and the obvious absence of a driver or any casual clue; skid marks in the dirt, broken whiskey bottles, blood. He is now looking in the brush walking directly towards them, maybe ten meters away. The only thing between them is the phone and a lifetime’s worth of karma. 

Davis hears the radio screech alerting the fire truck with updated info: “Unit 3 we have been alerted that driver of the vehicle, a dog and an unknown male have been airlifted to Community General.” The responder stops to listen less than three steps from their position. He considers the intel and looks back at the truck. In doing so he turns his body one hundred eighty degrees missing the cell phone visual. He returns to the truck, grabs the mic and announces that the site is secure and that he copies the updated info. He finishes with a returning to base sign-off. 

Davis releases the breath he has been holding and sighs as the truck departs the area, crushing the cell phone under its massive red load as it slowly rumbles home. 

Davis feels the buzz of his phone. 

Caller id: TOM.