As dawn broke over the field an array of firefighting equipment could be seen in a blackened grassy copse beyond the run-up area of runway 29. The access road had led them over a small rise to the fence edging on SummnerCorps fruit orchards.
Their arrangement with the airfield was a good one. The orchards were a buffer against encrouching developments, with their inevitable complaints of "those noisey planes".
Part of the rental payment was keeping the airport restaurant stocked with fruit.
"At first, I thought it was a private plane that had gone down".
Anderson was squinting at Chief Priestly. Anderson was in administration.
"What the hell is it"?
Through the flame-retardant foam a strange shape could be seen; a rough humanoid form of burned twigs. The foam gave it the aspect of a reclining snowman.
" Maybe some kinda of art project, or ...I don't know".
Priestly was puzzled. The frame was wood, but the form seemed made of reeds of some kind.
"It looks like bramble, or wicker".
The Sun turned the foam a warm yellow and warmed it.
A fireman picking at the pithy tangle called out to the chief, Hey, we better call the sherrif; I've got a couple of DBs.
The chief could see the partially charred bodies now within the burnt weir.
He read the name "Wilkins" on a discolored metal name tag."Shit, I know this guy...yeah, get the cops out here".
The apple blossom petals seemed like snow as they drifted across the field.