Night of the Crane | By @WendyyWolfe

4. Collywobbles

"Alright. I'm going to slip out, run around the back, get the truck outta the lock-up lot and bring it around here to this door. You wait here. I'll park as close as I can get to the door."

"Yeah, but why you being all 007 about this Mac?"

"Really Dylan? I'm not, but in case you forgot, we are sneaking a dead body out of here. In broad daylight. Do me a favor and stop asking me all these dumb ass questions will ya? Your making me want to just stomp your ass when this is all over."

Dylan shrugged sheepishly.

Macallan grabbed the door knob but hesitated. He looked back at the empty jail cells. "Shit. I forgot that envelope in my cell Dylan, can you run and grab it while I get the truck?"

Dylan nodded, and stepped back down the short hall toward the cell fumbling with the keys.

Macallan eased the door open quietly, sliding out through the smallest possible opening, and instantly froze in the tiny arched alcove that covered the side door, a feeling of dread fear cocooning him as he realized. . .it wasn't morning?

Not at all. It wasn't even dawn.

It was dark as night! Because it was still night.

An artificial, unnatural, if not hazy, blue light blanketed the area and beyond it, at the edge of the small parking lot and spilling out into Main Street, on the sidewalks and small patches of grass stood varying groups of people as if paralyzed in place. Macallan felt his heart rate increase as he looked on the scene in speechless shock. He saw familiar faces and some he had no idea who they were. He saw friends, shop owners, grocery store employees, farmers, children with their parents and vehicles haphazardly parked or stopped anywhere there was an open space.

His hands dropped to his sides and the door he had been holding blew open, slamming against the wall but not one single person turned to look. Macallan's brows knit together with confusion and he followed their line of vision upward sucking his breath through his teeth in utter panic. Overwrought, his hands searched desperately for the wall and he fell back on the stoop, smashing into Dylan on the way down.

Macallan crab scrambled backwards awkwardly, forcefully pushing Dylan back inside.

They fell on top of each other crawling to opposite walls and turning to stare at each other. Neither said a word because to do so would mean admitting to what they had both just seen, but their horror stricken expressions betrayed them like a wife scorned.

Tremors of fear laced across Dylan and Macallan felt the foreboding disquiet settle in his clasped hands as his mind searched for a logical explanation and he finally spoke but Dylan wasn't listening. Instead he interrupted Macallan as he stared into the hall.

"Yeahhh Mac. I think we have a problem."

Macallan turned his head and they both very slowly stood to their feet grappling with disbelief. The Deputy's body, which had just been beside them was no where to be seen.

"Fuck me," Macallan whispered.

"Me too," Dylan replied.

"Dylan."

"Yeah."

"Uh, we're just gonna back outta here now. Real slow like. Head to the back lot hugging the wall. Keep yourself as small as possible."

Dylan give him a dry mouthed 'ok,' and they stepped, together, back outside and headed along the wall toward the back of the building avoiding the crush of people who still lingered staring into the sky.

At the corner of the building they sprinted across the gravelled back area and to the impound lot but stopped short, seeing that every damn road into town must be blocked with abandoned vehicles.

"Change of plans," Macallan declared waving Dylan to follow.

Macallan took off running along the impound fence entering the side street and headed left into the small neighborhood that hugged the outskirts of Brew Town. They ran for several blocks, through yards and other short side streets as rural neighborhoods were wont to have, Macallan's muscular physique could have easily carried him for miles to come but Dylan who was a bit less exercised began to slow down holding his side, huffing and puffing with every step. He was supremely thankful when Macallan slowed down ahead of him and came to a stop at the edge of a small field that butted up to Lyle Keefe High School and bordered the long winding road that led past the school and out of town.

"Look," Macallan pointed at the school. "The military is using the high school as a staging area! Come on! We'll be able to get some information there, let's go," he encouraged Dylan.

Macallan watched as military trucks came barreling up the road en-route to Brew Towns high school and his energy was renewed in hopes of discovering anything possible about what they had experienced tonight.

"Ok Mac," Dylan huffed, still holding his side and trying to regain his breath. "But can we walk?"

Macallan relented to Dylan's need, if a little begrudgingly, and together they made their way across the field, onto the road that rose slightly in elevation as they neared the entrance which had now been gated and fenced off with temporary military grade protection.

Armed personnel stood, stationed every so many feet along the fence and at the gate Macallan and Dylan were stopped along with a group of other people who were arriving on foot.

They were advised to form a line off to the side and one by one they were allowed in, and instructed by that official that all civilians were to report to the gym for processing. Most of the people around them were fraught with fear but Macallan was filled with relief that he hadn't been imagining everything that had happened tonight.

When it was their turn Macallan stepped up to the guard with Dylan. Clearing his throat he waited for the uniformed man to write down his name and credentials. Dylan fidgeted next to him.

"Okay Mr. Crete, report to the gym and you'll be given further instructions for the night," he barked.

"Yes sir, Macallan began, "but can you tell us what's going on? Anything at all?" he asked receiving a look from the officer.

"All civilians are to report to the gym," he repeated. "The mayor will be holding a press conference in the morning and will answer questions at that time. Now move along, there are others waiting," he snapped prodding them forward.

"Now wait a god-damned minute Grunt," Macallan snapped back snatching his arm away from the officer. "This is our town and we deserve to know what the fuck is going on here!"

Dylan closed his eyes because he knew exactly where this was heading.

The man's face tightened and his lips pursed into a frown. "I understand, but to be fair, I don't know, what the fuck is going on here," he answered between clenched teeth.

Macallan bowed up throwing his cowboy hat to the ground and stepped closer.

"I oughta smash your smug face right up your ass, grunt," he taunted, just inches from the officers nose. "But to be fair, I, don't want to embarrass you in front of the children."

The guards expression was stoney, unreadable, but as he rested his hand over his army issue AR, his intentions were clear.

Macallan laughed out loud, bent over to
grab his hat and pointed his finger at the information officer. "And I can do it," he shouted as he walked away much to Dylan's deep relief.

Bar fights were one thing but this, well this bordered on the federal prison, throw away the key for life thing.

Dylan quickly followed Macallan raising his hands in the air as he passed the guard apologizing as he went and mumbling something about it being a very stressful night, thanked the guard for letting them go and lit into Macallan like a rabid dog.

"Your gonna get us killed Mac," he ground out with spit and all, trotting close behind.

"Hell Dylan, I didn't even kiss her," he sang a familiar lyric sarcastically.

Dylan rolled his eyes as Macallan threw open the double doors to the gym. That's exactly was he was afraid of.