Night of the Crane | By @WendyyWolfe

2. Truth be Told

"I'm telling you Mac, you ain't gonna reach those keys your too far away. Give'em here now, you can see I'm closer."

Macallan huffed and stood up closing the gap between he and Dylan's cell in two steps. "Here then, you do it," he said thrusting the bat through the bars to Dylan.

"Finally," Dylan sniped," and while I'm on the subject I been thinking and I'm thinking maybe it ain't the best idea you ever had taking the deputy's gun. Your gonna get us blamed for killing him."

"Blamed by who, smart ass?"

"Hell Mac, the whole damn town! It's gonna look awful suspicious to them for us to be breaking outta here."

Macallan gave him an infuriating grin. "In case you haven't noticed genius, there are no towns people."

They both looked toward the huge window facing the street which was noticably empty.

Dylan swallowed, "I'm just saying," he added, interrupting Macallan's thoughts. "Maybe we just stay put and wait for someone to come in."

Macallan looked at him like he'd grown another head. "Have you lost your ever loving mind Dylan? I'm not staying in here and waiting for someone to come rescue me, now get to getting those keys," he growled.

Dylan sighed, then, as if the universe was dead set on proving Macallan wrong the phone on the tiny desk lit up and starting ringing.

Macallan turned, looking at the phone ringing off the hook. Shit.

"See," Dylan mocked him.

Macallan turned back to him. "Keys! Now." he shouted.

"Fine." Dylan said scooting to the other side of his cell.

Macallan returned to his pacing as a way of not watching the various contortionist poses Dylan used to stretch his arm as far out of the cell as he could. The bat, although long just barely touched the keys.

"I can't reach them Mac."

Fuck shit. Macallan scratched his head furiously trying to think of some way to get those keys.

"We should just wait Mac."

Macallan turned on his heel and strode right up to the bars that separated him from Dylan, pointing his finger angrily.

"You've said a lot of dumb ass things in your life Dylan but I'm not staying here waiting for someone who isn't coming, to get here and let me out," he looked up in utter frustration and his eyes lit on the ceiling.

Holy crap the ceiling! A drop ceiling! Of course. All the old buildings in town had them. They kept the rooms warm in the winter and cool in the summer.

"Son of a bitch hell yes, give me the bat Dylan."

Dylan handed it back through the bars.

Macallan took it raising it over his head and jumped up knocking the 16x16 square of hard foam out of it's frame. It pushed over slightly and he jumped up again. This time knocking it to the floor.

Dylan snorted. " How do you think your going to get up there Mac."

Macallan tossed the bat down and it clattered to the floor. "You, are gonna give me a leg up now get your arms over here."

Dylan shrugged and came over getting down on one knee. He reached through the bars and formed a hand platform with his fingers entwined. Macallan backed up and took a jogging trot, stepped into Dylan's hands and reached for the top of the jail cell frame. He grabbed it and pulled himself up and in through the hole laying on the frame top by his stomach teetering precariously back and forth. With one free hand he knocked out the panel on the other side of the cell and began to wiggle pulling himself over. He had to fall through head first and landed on his shoulder just inches from Deputy Storey's body. His shoulder stung from the fall.

Dylan ran up to his cell gate. "Mac you alright?!"

"Yeah," he squeezed out from between clenched teeth. He rolled away from the deputy and stood up holding his arm. He looked down sadly at the man who had always put up with his ridiculous shenanigans. "You were a good man deputy," he whispered as he turned on a heel, bent down, swiped the keys off the floor and headed for Dylan's cell.

"I'm gonna unlock the gate for you dumb ass, in case you change your mind. If you want to stay here, well be my guest, just lock yourself back in." Macallan said tossing the ring of keys to Dylan.

All the while the phone was steady ringing and Macallan headed towards it, noting that the tall file cabinet in the corner had crashed over into the pane glass window. That must have been what woke them, he mused silently.

Having decided Mac was right about getting out of there Dylan trotted over where his friend sat at the desk jerking drawers open and shuffling through them.

"Hey what are you doing now?!" Dylan whispered.

"Our phones and wallets are locked up in evidence, you want your shit don't you?"

Dylan didn't answer.

Mac nodded. "I thought as much."

He found the key to the evidence room in a pencil tray, unlocked it and went inside.

He and Dylan's personal items were thrown in a box. He handed Dylan his things and grabbed his phone checking to see if he had any calls and sure enough he had dozens of missed calls.

He shoved his wallet in his front pocket, phone in the back pocket, grabbed his truck keys and turned to Dylan.

"Help me with the Deputy's s body."

"Wait...,what?" Dylan's expression was dumbfounded.

"Fuck Dylan we can't just leave him there, now help me."

"Well what are we going to do take him with us?"

Macallan nodded. "That's exactly what I'm going to do. Lacy would never forgive me if I just left him here."

"Why would she have to know that part Mac? Because your telling me your going to take his dead body to her-- god, Mac, talk about traumatizing."

"No dumb shit. I'm taking him to his own damn house Dylan. I'm not leaving him here on the floor."

They both walked over and Macallan knelt down to examine the gun shot wounds.

"Mother fuck. Dylan. He's been shot like 7 or 8 times."

"Who in the hell did he tangle with that would do that to him Mac?"

"I don't know, honestly, I can't begin to imagine. His face is all beat to hell and swollen. But this isn't the work of a person Dylan. What ever this is has affected the whole town." Mac stood up and looked at Dylan. "What ever happened is not normal."

The phones lit up again jarring Macallan from his strange thoughts.

"Help me drag him down there to the side door. I'll drive around there and we can load him in the back of the truck."

Dylan took a deep breath. From breaking out of jail to tampering with the scene of a crime oh and yea, aiding and abetting. It couldn't get much worse he thought, no he hoped, as he and Macallan each grabbed an arm and drug the deputy down the short hall to the side entrance. A sick looking trail of blood smeared the floor behind them and Macallan looked at it.

"There's no time to clean it up but hang on a minute," he said heading off back to the evidence room. He ran inside and to a closet filled with towels and sheets, grabbing a armful of the latter he ran back. "Help me wrap up his body Dylan."

They stretched out two sheets and rolled Deputy Storey onto them bringing the ends around and wrapped him up the best they could all while the phone rang off the hook. Then as if on cue they heard the static sound of a walkie - talkie.

"Shit," said Macallan, "it's his shoulder walkie. I forgot to take it off." He bent down and fished around in the bloodied sheets finding the walkie and jerked it free. He twisted the small knob on the top until it clicked off and with that click the phone stopped ringing leaving them in an eerie silence that turned into the low hum of electrical power loss.

Everything went dead.

"We gotta go... now Dylan."