Pi Day Doomsday

DISCOVERY

Officer Mica Briscoe, a veteran California Highway Patrol employee, loaded his cruiser that morning ready to take on the day’s chaotic California traffic. On an average day, he would help over fifty stranded motorists, issue twelve speeding tickets, five warning tickets, and eat six donuts, downed by eight cups of black coffee. With nine years on the force, he was the perfect law enforcer, tagged Magic Mica by his peers and unit commander. He enjoyed the title and on occasion would embrace it by strutting his small beer gut while holding a six-pack of beer over it. However, when on duty he was serious business; he was the first to arrive on shift and the last to leave. Everyone in his unit loved and respected him for that.

“Hey Mica, didn’t I see your cruiser in that crazy car chase on the I-10 yesterday? Looked like yours. That was some chase.” The question came from Officer Julian McCoy, a young rookie who shared the morning shift with Briscoe. Smiling, he stood at his nearby cruiser waiting for the answer.

“No, Jules,” he answered, “don’t believe so. I was covering a SigAlert on the lower PCH most of yesterday. Six-car pileup. Some bozo going sixty dropped a La-Z-Boy recliner in the fast lane. I picked up wood, springs, and screws for hours. Never get the fun times.” He laughed, cocked his head, and continued, “How would you recognize mine, anyway? These zebras all look alike.”

McCoy pointed up to Briscoe’s light bar and answered, “One of them had a broken lens over the center blue light, just like yours.”

He opened the door and stood, staring at the broken lens. “Well I’ll be damned. I guess I need to pay more attention to my ride. Must have been a thrown rock. I heard one whistle by my head on a speeding stop but never heard it land. That lucky light must have caught it.” He shook his head, smiled at McCoy and reentered his cruiser.

McCoy turned to enter his cruiser, then turned back. “Oh Mica? You might want to get that into maintenance for a new bar. They can replace it in minutes. I know, I’ve had two replaced in my year on the force.”

“Damn, boy, you’re hell on those things, aren’t you? I’ll get right over there. Thanks and have a safe day,” he said, starting the engine.

He remembered taking McCoy under his wing right after he joined the force. Fresh from Middle East deployment, he left the army in hopes of a safer, calmer life. On occasion his PTSD would strike, sucking him back into the hellish images of his nightmares. He was always there for him when that happened; like a father-son bond, there were no words spoken, but McCoy knew.

Chuckling, McCoy answered, “Just the luck of the Irish, I guess,” and entered his cruiser. With a quick wink, he was gone.

He thought on McCoy’s last comment, scratched his head, and slowly wound through the parked cruisers into the maintenance garage.

“Hey Magic Mica! Que pasa?” Greeting him, Juan Moreno, a burly middle-aged mechanic dressed in blue denim overalls, left his rack and walked up to his window. Moreno glanced up at the light bar and mocked, “Awww… what happened? Did your ride get a boo-boo?”

“Not funny, Moreno. Can you fix it? I’m on my way out.”

“Sure, Mica. No problemo. Ten minutes max. Why don’t you go into our waiting lounge and pour a cup. Today, we’ve got donuts, too. Only one per customer.”

He smiled. He loved his job, and instances like this made him feel special. “I only wish I could get this kind of service in the outside world, Juan. You guys are always great.”

“Muchas gracias, señor. We try harder because you troopers need us to keep your cruisers troopin’. Without us you’d all be joggin’ behind speeders, cursin’ and yelling, ‘Come back here.’” He accented his wit with a chortle.

Laughing, he exited his cruiser, and headed toward the lounge. “Come get me when you’re done. I’ll be by the donuts. Thanks, Juan.”

Twelve minutes and two donuts later, Moreno entered the room. He was still chewing the last bite of donut. Damn, he caught me, he thought. Sheepishly smiling, he muffled, “Sowwy. I couldn’t stop at one.”

“Well señor, you can shine on, now.”

He swallowed quickly. “Thank you, Juan. You light up my life.”

Moreno snickered and walked to the door behind him.

Approaching his cruiser, he peered inside and with a grin said, “Hey thanks Juan for cleaning out my trash mess. I never find time to dump my cups and they just accumulate.”

“De nada, Officer Mica. Yours was cleaner than most.”

He entered the cruiser, started the engine, and began to drive away. As he rolled up his window, he heard Juan calling his name. He stopped, looked back in the mirror, and saw Juan running after him.

Shortly, Moreno appeared at his window and with an urgent tone said, “Mica, I forgot. I found this wedged between your passenger seat and the door.” Huffing and puffing he held out a white envelope.

After retrieving a clear plastic evidence bag from his glove compartment, he opened it and offered the opening to Moreno. “Put it in there, Juan. I don’t know what it is but we don’t want more than one set of prints on it.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll do that.” With a shaking hand, he carefully dropped the envelope into the bag. Suddenly Moreno felt he was involved in some sinister master plan to end the world. Little did he know he was almost right.

“It’s not yours?” Moreno questioned.

“No, Juan. I’ve never seen it before. Is this another one of your jokes? I’ve heard about your pranks with our patrol cars. Some of them were not so nice.”

“Oh Dios mio no, Officer Mica. I found it there just now.” He pointed through the open window to the passenger seat-door gap and continued, “It looked like it had blown in there. It was standing on a corner ready to fall out the door as I opened it. I caught it before it fell.”

He studied Moreno’s face, seeking truth, then directed his attention to the bag. Flipping the envelope over several times, he stopped at the front cover and spoke its message, “News flash! WMDs. A tale of Adam.” He looked up to Moreno and asked, “Does that mean anything to you, Juan?”

Moreno thought on it briefly, then nodded and answered, “Long ago, I remember the junior George Bush searching for WMDs, whatever they were, but he never found any. Of course, I know Adam was the first human. In my religion, we believe that he and Eve ate the fruit of the forbidden tree in the Garden of Eden. It taught them the difference between good and evil. Then they were cast out by God for committing the original sin. The devil made them do it.”

He mulled Moreno’s answer over in his mind. It agreed with his knowledge. “Hmm,” he said, “I’ll have to get this to our chief. It could be something or it could be nothing. I just can’t imagine how it got into my cruiser.”

Moreno shook his head. “Me neither. I certainly didn’t put it there.” He paused, then asked, “Do you ever leave your windows down?”

Squinting in thought, he remembered, “I have left them cracked a few times on really hot days to vent the heat out… but the doors are always locked.” He frowned and continued, “I suppose anyone could have dropped it in on one of those days. I just don’t know.”

Moreno raised an eyebrow. “That’s what it looked like to me. Just like someone thought it was a mail drop.”

“Well, okay Juan, I gotta go. Time to save the world from themselves again. Thanks for your help… and the new light bar.” He winked, rolled up the window, and drove off to his daily route.