Blue strobe lights.
Winking, blinking.
Against dense fog.
Like azure cotton candy.
Winding country roads.
Dark, like tree-lined tunnels.
Telephone poles and mailboxes, quickly passing.
Glancing from ditch to ditch.
A deer?
Moonlight behind trees.
Tall gnarled fingers disappearing into a night-blackened sky.
“Are we close?”
“No, not yet. We was a long ways in the country. Maybe three more miles.”
Radio lights blink in sequence.
Dispatcher speaks in monotone.
Stolen car on interstate.
Disturbance in West End.
Shoplifter at convenience store, Third and Bellview.
More lights blink.
More telephone poles.
More curves.
Tires squeal.
Then…
“There. Right there.”
“Body’s in the woods, to your left.”
“Drug him across the ditch right there.”
“See where the weeds are knocked down?”
Guns drawn.
Flashlights.
Leaves crunch.
Twigs snap.
Careful.
Don’t disturb scene.
Gun-leather creaking.
Keys jingle.
“Where?”
Shrug.
“Thought it was here.”
“Maybe there.”
“Everything looks the same.”
“I was scared.”
Humidity high.
Sweating.
Vests like dense clay.
Hours pass.
Spider webs.
Flies.
Dogs.
Noses to ground.
Mosquitoes.
Hundreds of mosquitoes.
Nighttime yields to dawn.
Light pushes through tree canopies.
Like translucent yellow wands.
“I found it!”
A man.
No, it’s a boy.
Leaves and pine needles.
Eyes closed, mouth open.
Hands bound in back.
Gray duct tape.
Nose and mouth.
Insects in and out.
Like cars on the 101.
Sickening.
Cameras.
Measuring.
Gathering.
9mm casings.
Execution.
Gansta wannabes.
Interrogation.
“Didn’t know gun was loaded.”
“Took it from Dad’s nightstand.”
“A joke.”
“Honest.”
“It was just a…”
“Joke.”
“Wanted to scare him…”
Teenagers.
One dead.
Four in prison.
Life sentences.
A joke.
Just a joke…