Squirrel

            The squirrel sighed a little as he wound himself in a contented little ball in the engine of the Tercel.  It wasn’t that it was warm.  The heat of a running automobile had long since dissipated in the long week it had been parked there.  No, there were other reasons the furry gray beast had for making its home inside the car, but no one knew what they were.

            What the sheriff did know upon approaching the vehicle was that the squirrel was not intent on giving up his new home any time soon.  Henry Diggs, an average-height middle-aged bald man who was thoroughly bored with his job, had been sheriff of Talameras County for the past five years, and he thought he had seen everything the county had to offer.  This squirrel, however, was new.

            Upon exiting his patrol car, he had noticed scuffling and scratching noises coming from under the car’s hood, and as soon as he got within ten feet of it, the squirrel had popped out from underneath and came chattering toward him.  It stunned Diggs so much that he stopped dead in his tracks and put his hand instinctively on his gun holster.  When he noticed it was a squirrel, he gave an amused snort and continued on his intended path, but the animal only grew louder and took a more defensive stance.

            “Whoa there, buddy,” Diggs said awkwardly.  He wasn’t exactly sure how to handle this kind of situation.  It seemed incredibly annoying"and yet hilarious, and he suddenly found himself wishing his department had the money for dashboard cameras.  The squirrel kept chattering as he contemplated the situation, and he took the moment to survey what he could see of the car.

            It was a beat up old thing, duct tape on the rear bumper and a bolt missing from the license plate.  The paint was peeling off in various places, revealing a good amount of rust, and the tires almost looked like they could be the originals.  The driver’s side window was opened about two inches, and in the broken rearview mirror, Sheriff Diggs saw something odd, something that looked remotely like a face.  He had assumed the car was abandoned; perhaps some poor soul had ran out of gas and hadn’t had the chance to get it and come back.  Money was tight these days.  He had even had a couple of abandoned cars in the past year that needed so much in repairs the owners probably figured it was cheaper to buy another car.  If someone was in the car, however, it could be that they were living in it, as it was parked far enough off the road to be unnoticed (except by that nit-picking twit, Doris Buford, who called in the report).

            “Hello!” Diggs tried to yell over the squirrel.  He didn’t know why.  Anyone who wasn’t getting out of the car to see what the racket was all about probably wasn’t going to get out when he yelled.  He was right; they didn’t.

            The squirrel was still screeching at him.  “Shut up, squirrel!” he shouted.  The beast stopped for a moment before carrying on in an even more incessant manner.  Diggs groaned.

            Deciding to ignore the squirrel, he made his way over to the driver’s side.  Slowly, he was able to make out the figure of a head and the profile of a face, and again he shouted out, “Hello?”  He rapped on the glass.  Squinting, he was able to see the face a little better now, and he gasped and backed away as he noticed its ashen complexion and gory scratches.

            Dead.  It was dead.  There was a dead body sitting upright in the driver’s seat of this car.  And those scratches.  It almost looked like the poor soul had been attacked by some sort of wild animal.

            Suddenly Diggs noticed that the screeching had stopped.  His head whipped around as he tried to spot the squirrel, but it had disappeared.  It was dusk now, and the eerie silence ran a shiver down his spine as he wondered at the squirrel’s departure.  He looked back at the car, staring at that ashen, scratched up face, and he jumped as the little gray beast suddenly appeared on the roof of the Tercel.

            “Damn squirrel,” he muttered.  He pressed the button on the radio on his shoulder.  “Hey Dave,” he called to his deputy, “send out an ambulance and call Dr. …”

            In the sheriff’s department, Dave adjusted his radio.  “Sheriff?” he called.  There was no answer.  “Sheriff?”  At once there was a crackling and a strange screeching noise, but then it was nothing but silence.  “Sheriff?  What’s going on?  Sheriff?”