Page 70 of The Nook for Brooks
She opened her mouth…
And poured the entire contents down her throat.
As she chewed and swallowed, she stepped up to the group, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before declaring, “No book nerd gets left behind! Let’s do this, people!”
Sheriff Garrett simply took a deep… long… patient breath. “Oh good… everyone’s here now. As I was saying. Brooks has been in the woods for at least four hours. We’re not sure what he was wearing or whether he left with any—”
Peeeeeeep!
Maggie’s whistle blew at point blank range now and everyone flinched again.
Sheriff Garrett turned to her. “Yes Maggie?”
She pulled the whistle from her lips. “Oh, nothing. Just testing that the whistle works, sarge.”
“I’m not your sarge. I’m your sheriff. Now… as I was saying… we’re not sure whether he left with any supplies or even water to keep himself hydra—”
Peeeeeeep!
Maggie took the whistle from her lips again. “Question, sarge. Do we know what he was wearing?”
Sheriff Garrett inhaled. “As was previously mentioned, no, we do not know what he was wearing. Although knowing Brooks as we all do, it was probably—”
Peeeeeeep!
Sheriff Garrett yanked the whistle out of Maggie’s mouth. “For God’s sake, enough with the whistle. What is it now?”
“Squirrel! I just saw a squirrel. First rule of wilderness survival: identify potential threats from wild beasts, warn others by blowing your whistle, then assert dominance by giving it a people name. Brian, stand down!”
She shone a flashlight I didn’t even notice she was holding, illuminating a terrified squirrel who literally threw itself of the branch of a tree and into the dark.
Maggie clicked off her light. “One down, several million to go. Please continue, sarge.”
Sheriff Garrett took a moment to compose himself. Then, when everything seemed still enough, he continued with hisinstructions. “We’ll need someone to stay here and monitor things from base camp. The rest of us will fan out from the mill in five teams of three. We’ll sweep the closest trails, then head up the mountain and cut across the ridge. You’ll each get a flashlight and a whistle. One person in each group gets a walkie talkie. When you call out for him, make your voice clear and loud, but remember that you need to listen as well. If he’s injured, he may not be able to move or call back, in which case you need to focus on the slightest sound that might lead you to him. But stay close to your other team members. Nobody wanders off. And nobody does anything heroic. Understand?”
He started handing out flashlights, walkie talkies, and whistles… except to Maggie. “One whistle is enough for you,” Sheriff Garrett said. “Letting you have two would be a breach of my oath of office.”
He then turned to Harry. “Harry, Dean, Cody,” he said, passing Harry a walkie-talkie. “You’re group one. Harry’s got comms. Follow my group along the south path until we hit the old fire road, then cut right.”
“Bud, Pascal, Maggie,” Sheriff continued. “You’re group two. Bud gets the radio.”
“Why can’t I have the radio?” Maggie asked, already reaching for it.
“Because I’m giving it to Bud. He’s your boss, and I’m the boss of this search party.”
Maggie crossed her arms and huffed. “Some party. There’s not even cake.”
Sheriff Garrett simply moved on.
“Mitch, Gage, Bea, you’re group three. Bea, you get the walkie.”
Bea pressed the button and it crackled to life. She froze, a light of unholy joy in her eyes. “It’s like a microphone,” she breathed.
Mitch’s face did a subtle littleoh no, before Gage delicately plucked the radio from her fingers and gave it to Mitch. “Why don’t we hold onto this,” he said. “You dazzle instead.”
“Fine,” she sniffed. “But you’re missing your chance to hear my new one-woman show. It’s a musical set in a 1920s gin joint called ‘Life is a Caba-gay, Oh Chum!’ Two acts, twelve keys, and the only straight thing is the booze.”
Sheriff Garrett ignored Bea’s elevator pitch.
