The gang stood with their mouths agape, staring
toward the door. After a moment of silence, Jessie announced to the
room “I'm callin' the sheriff”.
She hurried into the kitchen and picked up the
smooth, U-shaped black telephone. It slipped out of her shaking
hands and clattered on the counter top she quickly recovered the
receiver and began to dial. The pattern of clicks sounded off as she
worked the dial on the phone's base.
“Should we go after him?” Shirley Sue said,
looking in the direction of Buck and Roger.
“I'll go and find him,” Buck volunteered without
considering what he even was saying.
Roger's eyes darted to Buck.
“Have ya lost yer ever lovin' mind? Parker's dead
and fer all we know whatever did that to him is still out there. We
ain't got any way of figurin' where Mike's run off ta. We should
wait for the sheriff to get on out this way. He'll know what ta do,”
Roger scolded.
“Maybe you're right Roger, but we just can't leave
him out there on his own,” said Shirley Sue. “Come on Buck, well
go round him up.”
The duo walked in tandem out the front door. “It's
your funeral,” escaped through the doorframe as Buck closed the
door, the knob making a clicking noise punctuating Roger's cry as it
fastened tightly behind them.
The two began circling the cabin as they looked for
signs of which direction Mike had set off in. The breeze from
earlier had died down, the cool air only perturbed by the swarming
fireflies which had accumulated around the cabin.
“Any idea where he might have gone off to?”
questioned Buck.
“He could have gone any-” Shirley Sue stopped
mid-sentence and pointed toward the treeline “Look over there!”
A yellow glow blinked into view once more, Mike was
out there his flashlight signaling he presence in the distance.
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