The Bomb

The Bomb
By Matt Stickel 11/6/01

It was a cold September morning. I had just started my morning walk through the park. It was a nice sunny day with a bit of frost on the grass. The sound of the crunchy leaves, a slow breeze and some birds chirping was the reason I went on these walks. It was an escape from my job.
I was coming up to the small playground around the corner, when I noticed a small cardboard box on the path. I was about to pick it up when I remembered that there had been rumors of bombs in the park. "It's not a bomb", I thought to myself, "it's too small to be a bomb." Could it be a bomb? If it was, who put it here? And why?
I decided not to pick it up, just in case. I called the police with my cell-phone.
"This is the police, what's your emergency?" asked the dispature.
"Uh…I'm at the a…Clark County Park and I…I think I've found a…Uh…well I think it's a bomb," I said.
"Okay sir, what does it look like?"
"Well it's a small cardboard box, and it's right in the middle of the path that I'm walking on. I was thinking about picking it up and moving it."
"No. don't pick it up. Is there anyone else there?"
I looked around and checked my surroundings.
"No, I don't see anyone? Why, do you think it's a bomb?"
"I don't know. I'm going to send the bomb squad down there right away sir."
"Okay. What should I…Uh…where should I go?"
"Um…If you could back away from the object a just wait there."
"Okay. Do you want me to stay on the phone?"
"Yes sir."
I backed about fourteen yards away from the box. I heard sirens getting louder and louder, until I could finally see the cars. There were three patrol vehicles and a large truck that said "Bomb Squad" in big letters on the sides. An ambulance arrived a few minutes later, just in case. There were three men in the big truck with police uniforms. One of them looked at the bomb from a safe distance with a serious look on his face. Another one was getting equipment out of the truck, and the last one went up to one of the officers and seemed to be talking to him. The officer pointed his finger towards me and the bomb squad officer started approaching me.
"Hello there," he said with his deep manly voice.
"Hi," I responded.
"Did you pick up or touch the object?"
"No. I was walking and I saw it and decided not to pick it up."
"Did you see anyone else on the trail while you were walking?"
"No…I don't think so. Why?"
"Well this area is known for crime and this may be a bomb, and if you saw anyone they may have made it a placed it here."
I thought hard for a second. Did I see anyone? I don't remember. I'm usually in such a relaxed mode I don't notice anything except for the peaceful sounds and views. I couldn't remember. Wait a second…I remember a man driving away when I pulled in.
"I did see someone, a man was driving away in his car when I pulled into the parking lot," I told the officer.
"What kind of car, do you remember?"
"Uh…it was red…it was a truck of some sort…it looked like he had suspended the body."
"Do you remember the brand name?"
"Uh…I think…I think it was a…uh…I think it was a Dodge. It looked pretty new, either that or he had just washed it."
"Do you remember what the man looked like?"
"No, I really wasn't paying attention. I really don't look at the drivers. I don't know why, but I'm afraid I might offend them."
"Are you sure it was a male?"
"Well I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, and I saw a beard."
"Why didn't you tell me that before?"
"I forgot I guess," I said. Just as I did one of the officers was suiting up to inspect the box closer. He had a suit that would protect him from a small explosion.
He approached the box very slowly. Every thing became silent, no birds, no sirens, no talking, just the sound of the wind going through the trees. The officer made it to the box and carefully and slowly he lifted off the lid. I looked at my watch, I was late for work. My boss would understand, it wasn't like I didn't have an excuse. The officer looked inside the box. He took out some wire-cutters and cut something. He picked up the box and brought it over to the other bomb-squad officers and then they left in their truck.
One of the police officers walked up to me. He greeted himself as Officer Prangton.
"Sir, we want to thank you for calling us. There was a small, homemade bomb mad out of three M-80s. It was set up to go off if it was moved. It had an amateur wire job on it and was easy to disarm. It wasn't a lethal weapon, but it was powerful enough to maybe blow someone's hands off and give a third degree burn. We're sending the box in for fingerprints, and were following up on your description of the vehicle you saw," said Officer Prangton.
"Is it all right if I leave now?" I asked.
"Yeah, I don't think you have anymore business here."
"Thanks. I hope you find who put it there."
I started to walk away and was relieved that I didn't pick up the bomb. I got to my car and drove away. I went home and took the day off from work, and figured I had been through enough today. I sat down on my couch and turned on the television. I was watching Jeopardy when someone knocked on the door.
I opened it, finding a man in civilian clothing with two police officers.
"How may I help you?" I asked.
"I'm Detective Johnston," said the man in civilian clothing, "you're under arrest for attempted murder of a police officer."
"Huh…What? Arrested for what?"
"Attempted murder."
"Of who?"
"Of Bomb-squad Officer Smith. Evidence shows you planted the bomb in the park, and intended to kill Smith."
"What?…No, I didn't place the bomb. I only found it."
"Sir your fingerprints are on the box, and I'm going to have to take you to the station," the detective said.
The other two officers quoted my rights while they handcuffed me. They put me in their vehicle and we drove to the station. It was cold outside with a good wind blowing the dead leaves along the street. The two officers took off the cuffs and drove away in their car. Johnston and I entered the station and went up the winding star-case. We entered a room with "Detective Johnston" written on the door. It was a large office with many shelves of what looked like evidence in bags. I recognized the bomb box on the desk.
"Recognize this box?" asked Johnston pointing to the box.
"Yeah…it's the bomb I found this morning."
"Can you explain how your finger-prints are on it?"
"No."
"Did you touch it before you called the cops?"
"No…wait…no."
I looked at the box closer, it was my shoe box that held the new shoes I bought a week ago. But how did it end up in the park? Who put it there? I don't remember anyone who would want to frame me.
"That's my shoe box," I told the detective.
"Excuse me?"
"I bought some shoes a week ago and that's the box they came in."
"How did it end up in the park where you were walking?"
"I don't know."
"You put it there and then called the police hoping to injure Officer Smith."
"No."
"Did you try to get a degree in engineering?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you get your diploma?"
"Because I wasn't good at wiring."
"That explains the bad wiring and the balance mechanism."
"Wait…no…I did not put that box there!" I yelled.
"Save it for the judge," he yelled back.
And that is why I'm in prison today. I've been waiting for my trial for over two years now. I'm being held for something I didn't do. I still can't think of anyone who would want to frame me. Maybe it was an old enemy I can't remember or someone who had nothing better to do than to frame me. Whoever it is, I'm paying for his crime. To this day I wish I had never even messed with that box. I wish I had just walked by. But for now I'm locked up in this small, metal prison cell waiting for my freedom.
The End