Tom Simpson - Sink

Deputy Paul Johanson locked up his brakes and slid he thought, very skillfully into a diagonal stop blocking the front entrance to the resort. He left just enough clearance on the right shoulder of the asphalt road for the emergency vehicles to get through but, he figured nobody but a complete fool would attempt to go around a sheriff’s car with its blue lights flashing. He had just stepped out of the car, radio mike in hand, when rookie deputy Nelson Howirth pulled up even with his patrol car blocking the path he had left open for the emergency vehicles.

“Only a fool.” He whispered to himself and then loudly barked at the rookie. “What the hell are you doing blocking the part of the road I left open, you nimrod. The fire trucks have to get by and what are you doing here? I thought you were checking on the theft over at old man Bailey’s hardware store.”

“Shoot Paul. I’m just here to help. I heard the call from the sheriff when he radioed you and I had just finished with my report of the petty theft so I thought I’d come see what I could do to help.”

“Well ok Nelson. We’ll need all the help we can get. I’ll tell you what I want you to do. Climb out of that car and come stand over in front of mine. I want you to keep everybody and I mean everybody out of the resort until we get this mess straightened out. Only let the fire department, other law enforcement people, and ambulances in. From what I can tell we have a real mess in there and I don’t want a bunch of townspeople or tourist getting in the way of the rescue operation. I’m in charge until the sheriff gets here so, I am going to take your car and drive on into the resort and see what I can do to help till the reinforcements arrive.”

“I’ll do a good job Paul. I can keep everybody out. I learned all about crowd control at the academy and I know I can handle it. You go on and I will be really tough to anybody not allowed in.”

“All right, I’m out of here. Radio me if you have any problems. I’ll have my hand-held so you can get me at any time and be sure to call me when the sheriff pulls up. “Paul Johanson ran over to the still idling patrol car, threw it in drive, and blasted down the driveway with the acrid smell of burning rubber drifting back toward the rookie who was obediently standing in front of the other car.

Billy Forham and Jack Backlin had tired of their fishing adventure, they had a grand total of zero bass to show their parents, and had wandered into the lush green woods past the boulder where Bart had entered the woods on Friday. They came to the hole that had frightened the dog but, the hole was no longer the size of a manhole cover. It was approximately ten feet across and had already swallowed two young oak trees by the time they approached it. Not knowing the hole was any larger than it had been several days previous, they walked up to the edge and peered into the inky blackness.

When they had tired of fishing, they turned their makeshift fishing spears into makeshift hunting spears and entered the woods with the thought of bagging a big game animal. Lion, tiger, or bear, it didn’t matter. They were brave warriors who would defeat any foe they happened to run across. Billy raised his spear in the air above the hole and loudly boasted.

“Oh mighty dragon. We know this is your lair and we, the royal knights of, of. Hey Jack. What kingdom are we from?”

“The Kingdom of Smallwich, in the land of Smallville.”

“That’s stupid Jack. How about the Kingdom of the United States in the land of the free.”

“That’s even dumber. We need a really neat kingdom to be from.”

“Okay, how about, we are from King Arthur’s Court and we are Knights of the Round Table.”

“I guess that will do if you can’t think of anything better.”

“Yeah, we will be really brave knights. Here I go again. Oh mighty dragon, we are from King Arthur’s Court and I am the fearless Sir Bill, defender of the innocent. My fellow knight, Sir Jack, and I will hunt you out and save the lovely princess from your clutches. What do you say dumb dragon? Give up and we might let you keep your head.”

“Yes, you stupid dragon, I Sir Jack, have killed many, many dragons over the years and we will fight you to the death unless you release…”

Jack and his words fell into the hole as the ground beneath him gave way. Before Billy could back away from the edge he was standing on, his side folded under and he was tumbled down into the darkness behind his pal Jack.

The slight wind rustling the leaves was the only sound in that part of the forest and a soft dust settled slowly around the edges of the hungry hole.

June 14, Saturday 1:48 p.m.

At the resort entrance

The ramshackle faded red truck with dull white stenciled letters down the side proclaiming “Forest Glenn Volunteer Fire Department” creaked slowly around the parked patrol car belonging to Paul Johanson and began to speed up as soon as it was clear. Its weak siren began its mournful wooing as soon as it was underway again and rookie deputy Nelson Howirth gave the thumbs up signal to the volunteer fireman hanging on the back looking like he would much rather be somewhere else.

Deputy Howirth, five foot eight with black, hair worn in a military cut, knew it would be probably ten minutes before the fire and emergency trucks from Lakeland would arrive due to the report he received from the dispatcher that had taken over for the sheriff when the sheriff left the office. The town of Forest Glenn’s only ambulance had already gone past him and he expected the sheriff any minute. He thought to himself that this was kind of exciting but, he would much rather be right at the scene of the action. He daydreamed he was rescuing maidens in distress and becoming a national hero. He saw himself receiving an award from the President and being asked to be a guest on all the talk shows. While he was still in his Walter Mitty dream sheriff Ralph Slocum pulled up next to the parked patrol car and rolled down his window.

“Well Nelson, any news from inside?”

“No sir. No one has left and just the fire truck and ambulance from Forest Glenn have gone past me.”

“The National Guard is being assembled in Tampa and will be here in a few hours and you should hear a helicopter or two arriving shortly. Just make sure you don’t let anybody not involved in the rescue effort past you. We can’t afford anyone running around getting hurt just because they wanted to sightsee. Stand guard here until I can get someone to relieve you, ok?”

“Sure sheriff, piece of cake. Go rescue those poor people in there.

“We again interrupt our regularly scheduled show in progress here on channel seven WWBD for another breaking bulletin on the devastating sinkhole happening in central Florida.”

“This is Wendy Wikowski, on the scene, outside the town of Forest Glenn. Ladies and gentlemen, if you have just joined us, this is live from what is believed the largest sinkhole ever to hit the western hemisphere and perhaps in the entire world. There are hundreds and hundreds of people trapped beneath the ground and still no word on the number of casualties there maybe. I have just got a report that a deputy from the county sheriff’s office has been critically wounded by one of the gunmen holding hostages inside the sunken lobby. WWBD will continue breaking in with news reports as they occur, and now to return to the show in progress.”

Wendy Wikowski set the microphone gently down on the hood of her car and turned back to the camera man and gave him a huge smile. She could tell by his reaction that the segment had been a good one. Broadcasting live was sometimes very tricky and she knew she was pulling off this one ok. Her mind wandered back to what she was doing when the news of this disaster first reached her. Wendy had been driving down County Road Thirty Seven eating crackers when her cell phone had rung. She had stopped the peanut butter filled cheese cracker halfway to her mouth and laid it carefully on the passenger seat of the company sedan, picking up her cell phone on the second ring and answered.