Fire at Dusk: Part 27

The trip to the mill had been mostly quiet. Exhaustion had set in and any attempt at small talk had evaporated into the night air. Several popping sounds, one right after the next, drew them from their dormancy.

“Were those gunshots?” asked Buck as he scanned the canopy.

Deputy Smith nodded, “I reckon they were. Not much we can do from here. Let's just hope whoever's out there is alright.”

After a few more minutes of walking, a faint, foul odor wafted to the trio. Shortly thereafter, they entered the clearing in which the mill was stationed. The deputy switched off her flashlight and Shirley Sue and Buck followed suit. They would need the element of surprise if they were going to apprehend Mike.

The party crept up to the mill. The gravel lining the pathway leading to the entrance crunched under their feet. As they approached, the darkened hull shuddered and groaned at them as a breeze buffeted its walls. Buck kicked a small stone, which ricocheted off the side of the mill. The trio froze upon hearing the soft, tinny sound, which was amplified by the silence. After what seemed like an hour, they continued to move toward the building.

“This is where you heard him yelling?” whispered the deputy.

Buck and Shirley Sue bobbed their heads, although the darkness concealed their movements from the deputy. “Yeah,” replied Buck.

The trio strained their ears and listened for any sign of Mike or the woman but all they heard was the meandering of the nearby river and the occasional drip which echoed through the large, warehouse-like structure.

Deputy Smith drew her pistol and then she, Shirley Sue, and Buck edged their way around the exterior of the mill to the main entrance. The deputy grasped the cool metal doorknob and twisted it.

“Locked,” she whispered. “I'll go in through one of the windows and unlock it from the other side.”

After several more minutes of searching, they came across a window devoid of any glass. Buck hoisted the deputy through the window and she dropped down to the other side. The interior of the building was pitch black. Her stomach churned as she was assaulted by the smell of decay. She futilely shielded her nostrils with her hand. She gazed into shadows, but her eyes were only met with the inky blackness. Reluctantly, she switched on her flashlight. She choked back a scream. On the long, workbench in front of her sat a disembodied head, its mouth twisted in an eternal wail.