Cliffhanger Theater!

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh”

Bob turned his head to the door. Jesus, was that Phil? Am I hearing things? He ran to the door of the boxcar, but it wouldn’t budge. He still wasn’t sure he heard a scream. For the past few seconds, Bob was stacking crates to try and talk Phil out of whatever idea he had. Bob pounded on the door three times.

Nothing.

Bob started breathing heavy. No no NO! This can’t be happening. I’ve just sent my best friend to his death! Bob raised his arm and pounded on the door three more times.

Nothing.

Bob grabbed onto whatever part of the door was sticking out. He pulled with all his might. The door wasn’t responding. Furious, he started kicking the door with his leg, even though that wouldn’t help at all. Bob started rocking the door back and forth, at least in theory. He pulled the door to the left and right, but it wouldn’t budge one inch. He felt himself crying once again. Pull it together Bob! Exasperated, he put his head on his left arm, while his right arm pounded three times with all it’s might.

Nothing.

Bob backed up and rammed the middle of the door with his shoulder. The steel bent ever so slightly. Bob’s back was against the door, and he slowly slid down to a sitting position. “I’m sorry Phil, I’m so sorry.” Bob was talking to the empty spaces and the useless crates, but he kept talking. “My God, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” He was starting to cry again, and his volume was escalating. “PHIL! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to die. You were the best friend I could have ever had. There’s so much I regret…so much I didn’t tell you that I should have. I never should have hidden…” Bob’s voice was lowering as he started sobbing. He reached into his pocket for a tissue or a handkerchief, but only found his lucky sunglasses. These damn things weren’t worth Phil’s life. How could I have known? How could I… Bob’s sadness was focusing into rage. He threw his arm back, sunglasses in hand. Their destination was one of the steel walls, and it was a one way trip. Tears were streaming down Bob’s face as he was about to throw them, when…

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*

…he froze.

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*

Bob quickly stood up and pounded the door three times. Three bangs came back, weaker than before, but they still came back.

***

The sound of camera flashes and fingerprint brushes filled an otherwise quiet house. Will Hetfield and Clayton Iron-Horse had looked through most of the house, and were now in the study of Frank Richmond. Will held up a manila folder.

“I didn’t know coroners took work home.”

Clayton looked over. “It takes a certain kind of person to do that kind of work. Have they booted up the computer yet?

“Yeah. The hard drive needs a password, so we’ve got somebody coming in to take care of it.”

“I’m a bit surprised it’s still here. I thought all our other mysterious missing persons cases had their computer drives stolen.”

“Well, Anderton and Fulton’s computers were intact but on. Plus, this is our first Mac in the case. All the other computers were PCs.”

Clayton knelt by the garbage can. He picked up an empty ink cartridge. “It looks like somebody ran out of ink recently.” His eyes then caught a faded printout that was half crumpled up. What little Clayton could see told him everything he needed to know.

“Will…It’s a boarding pass.”