Package Deal

The murmur of the bystanders was deafening. Mike held his breath and tried to block out their sounds as he maneuvered the robot into position. Don’t they understand defusing a bomb takes concentration? he frustratingly thought.

He slowly shifted the brown paper box with the mechanical arm. It seemed mundane - a simple package with the address of the police department in black, scrawling letters. But, Mike’s biggest concern was the oily stain at the base of the package. Oil residues are a tell-tale indicator of leaking fluids from bombs. Every new bomb tech learns that in what they term Explosives 101. Oil marks are an indicator of potential fuel sources, oil-based compounds, and acids. Always treat with the highest regard. This little detail made Mike more nervous by the second. He had to get into that package.

He gently cut the tape on the paper, detaching one side he slipped it off. Using another cutting device, he opened the cardboard box beneath. He carefully lifted the flap. Inside he found a silver metal container.

Mike stopped for a moment and took another breath. He had never seen anything like this before. Was this a new bomb? That idea didn’t bode well with him. New in his industry was definitely not good.

He shifted the robot again, lifting the metal container. He went to place it on the ground.

The tin slipped.

Mike’s breath caught. No!

Mike hesitated. Blowing out a slow breath, he turned the arm of the robot slightly. Adjusting, he successfully placed it on the ground this time next to the box.

Barely touching the levers, Mike opened the container bracing for what was to come.

It took Mike a few seconds to register what he was looking at.

He finally let out a long sigh of relief.

Cookies.

In a cookie tin.

Seriously? All this for a container of cookies?? Damn, he felt like a moron. How did I not recognize it??

The butter and oil used in baking them must’ve leaked out during transport in the mail. I can’t believe I missed that!

After several minutes, a few cheers and some hearty laughs, the unit began dismantling the equipment. Now that they knew the scene was safe, they could begin defusing their own ridiculous situation.

Mike walked over with the street Sergeant to the remnants of the box. They laughed as they collected the paper, package and tin. Mike turned the paper over to look at the writing.

“It’s addressed to us, but no return address.”

“Probably someone just thanking us for our service. They do that often,” the Sergeant said.

“I guess. But, they seriously need to start leaving notes on the OUTSIDE!” Mike laughed.

“I know, right?!” the Sergeant chuckled.

Both men walked into the station with the tin and wrapping, tossing the box in the trash can out front.

“Hey guys, we’ve got cookies!” the Sergeant announced with flourish.

Everyone in the briefing room laughed.

Mike sat the tin on the counter and popped the lid. Chocolate chip, nice! Mike snagged one before the others jumped in.

Taking a bite, Mike said a few goodbyes and headed back down the hall to the parking lot. He shook his head as he walked. Not the ending he was expecting. But, then again, what did he expect being a bomb squad member? It ended well and that’s all that mattered.

Mike was just getting in the SUV as he finished the cookie. Wow, what a day! I still can’t believe it was only cookies. He laughed to himself as he started the car.

Mike shifted to drive and pulled out of the police parking lot. He was sitting at the traffic light down the street when things began to shift.

Mike felt lightheaded and woozy. He barely registered his cell phone ringing.

He couldn’t think.

He couldn’t breath.

Froth poured from his mouth as he gasped for air.

He reached for the phone, desperately fumbling with the buttons. Garbled, he pleaded for help in his head.

He couldn’t speak.

Through the fog, he registered the voice on the other end yelling,

“DON’T EAT THE COOKIES!!! THEY’RE POISONED!!”

Silence.

“MIKE?!?!”