Squirt-Guns II

Wetumpka, Ala.--

Memo to all radio dispatch units:

Move all units into the main facility for maintenance inspections by midnight tonight. No units should be out, this is a mandatory inspection. River routes will resume at 6am.

Gerard Pitman,
Foreman
Alabama Water Division


Rome, GA--

"Are you prepared 4, over."
"4, prepared and waiting go, over."
"You may begin dumping 4, over."
"Roger, unloading, out."



Trailer Park, outside Rome, GA--

"What in the shit is that? Where in blue-ball-blazin' hell is that noise coming from?" Jimmy was frantic, standing up from the old couch with an ear cocked to the wall, then sitting down again to look wild-eyed at Brandi for confirmation. Brandi sat, bored, looking at the wall where the tv used to be.
"All I hear is you yapping Jimmy."
"You got wax buildup is what you got Brandi! You can't tell me you don't hear...a truck!"
Brandi suddenly sat up, quickly hiding the tray and pipe and baggie, and looked with panic at Jimmy.
"I do hear sumthin'! What the hell Jimmy, what the hell is it?"
Jimmy was wide open now, circling the trailer from end to end and peeking out of the windows, and he looked scared. He WAS scared.
"I...I don't know what it is Brandi. Ain't cops, we'd see lights. Ain't no car from the hood. Sounds like a dang-ol' dumptruck heading down to the crick."
The heavily loaded dumptruck's lights flashed across the trailer and turned left, hastily making its way toward the river in a cacophony of downshifting gears and diesel-engine groans.
Brandi looked at Jimmy. Jimmy slid on his jeans and grabbed his best skinning knife.
"Call the cops if ain't back in an hour Brandi..."

To be continued...