The parking lot was empty. Save for the sinkhole right in the damned middle of it.
‘Boss, gonna get a drone down, check for survivors.’ Skipper was the bane of my life. Couldn’t give me a moment’s peace to marinate, no sir. Always Boss this, Boss that. My process was slow like molasses, he was just a boy acting quick and easy like caramel sauce.
‘Have at it.’ I said. We were at the barricade along with a crowd of gawpers. Between us and the fire department we were trying to push them behind a second barricade, but it was the proverbial toothpaste back into the tube scenario.
A whuck-whuck-whuck came overhead, a chopper, but I didn’t bother looking to see if it was our people or reporters. If they’d all just give me some peace I could figure out the best way through this mess. We didn’t need our town on the international news again.
‘Boss, no-one else is willing to head in, but I’m volunteering. The drone needs an operator with immediate visibility of the area.’ Skipper had enough self-admiration zinging off his words to light up the sky on July fourth.
‘You mean you wanna get over the barricade? You wanna get up close with the hole?’ I didn’t mince my words. ‘Knock yourself out.’
Fool boy. He walked in there like the hero of an action movie, his stride deliberate and slow-motion, holding the drone controller in the air as the crowd cheered. All I could do was watch.
Skipper danced around that damn sinkhole like an ice cube on a hotplate, all quick and easy. He didn’t shout when he fell over the side, more of a yelp, then he was just gone. The parking lot was empty, save for his damned controller.
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