Opening the front door, Wells was greeted by a familiar face.
"Lt. Wells?"
"Professor Holzer?" Wells gasped, motioning the man to step inside. "Hey! It's great to see you." Wells paused, sad. "It's no longer lieutenant, Professor."
"Oh?"
"Retired, you see."
"Oh."
There was a serious tone of finality in the college professor's voice which gave Wells the impression that Holzer believed him to be the victim of politics. Not true. If asked, he would explain that to the man. But only if asked.
"What are you doing in Atchison?" Wells asked, silently inviting Holzer to take a seat in an old recliner.
Holzer held up his copy of the local Atchisonpaper. "Saw this," he explained.
"Yes." Wells tiredly laughed. "I was happy to read that one myself."
Holzer turned worried. "How was it started?"
"Don't know." Wells explained, "I no longer have the police department's ear. They have a new captain now that mine has moved on."
"Oh?"
"Yep. It seems that my captain was too militant." Wells huffed ironically. "The City Council offered him his own retirement package."
"I see." Holzer turned solemn.
For a moment both men sat looking at the other. Both wanted to talk, to joke, and to rejoice at the fact that Manchester House was no more. No more would the town's police force have to pull out body bags. No more would parents have to be informed, in the dawn of morning, that their loved ones would not be coming home any more. All these things these two men wanted to say, but neither could find the way, words, or moment to do so.
"Well, I just thought that I would come by and say hello." Holzer rose to his feet.
Wells darted up as well, always a good host, opening the door.
"Where are you off to now?" Wells asked, genuinely curious.
"Oh&" Holzer beamed, eager to explain. "My team and I are off to Scotland."
"Scotland?"
"Yes." Holzer stepped out onto Wells' tiny porch. The sun started to rise, promising a great Kansas day. "There is a castle there."
"Well, I should hope!" Wells joked.
Holzer turned serious. "The local population claims certain stories that have caused the SOURCE Institute some concern."
"Oh?"
"Something about bloodied corpses attacking a nearby town every night and the people of that town have asked for assistance." Holzer paused. "We are giving it."
"I wish you great luck," Wells solemnly stated.
Holzer waved goodbye, and left Wells to explore the mystery of the rest of his life. Wells, closing his door, for a moment wished that he knew of Holzer's.
:Hello&:
The headaches were getting worse.
Wells thought he heard the sounds of rustling plastic.
Picking up a fresh roll of duct tape, Albert Wells began sealing up the windows, vents, and doors of his house.
THE END
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