Windkill

“Anything could have set off the initial explosion,” Brock he walked the circuit of the crater’s mouth. “Perhaps a laborer dropped a mortar shell. An electrical charge could have ignited exposed gunpowder. We may never know what happened on that fateful day…”

Paulie held the camera steady as Brock stood still with his head cocked to one side. His friend stood that way for so long that Paulie nervously looked away from the eyepiece of the camera and searched the surroundings.

“Do you feel that?” Brock drew Paulie’s attention back to the reporter.

“What?”

“Its gone,” Brock looked at his cameraman and sighed. “I don’t feel it anymore. The eyes are gone.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Brock?” Mark asked over the link to the trailer.

“No. He’s right,” Paulie replied for the reporter. “Since we got in the valley, it’s like we’ve had someone watching us. I don’t feel it anymore.”

“Time for you guys to get out of there,” Mark snorted in disgust. “You’re supposed to be professional.”

“We are,” Brock showing a trace of anger for the first time in the two years of filming. “Let’s take it from the top, Paulie.”

Obediently, Paulie walked back to the starting point of the report and waited for Brock to prepare.

“Anything could have set off the initial explosion. Perhaps a laborer dropped a mortar shell. An electrical discharge could have ignited exposed gunpowder. We may never know what happened on that fateful day, but tonight one family has the chance to learn the truth. The Ottinger family has willingly come to this valley of death to confront the unknown. Tonight, they will share the experience with you.”

Brock faced the camera and smiled. “Welcome to ‘Scared to death’.”

“That’s it,” Mark declared over the link, “now get your asses out of there.”

“Yes sir,” Paulie replied enthusiastically and started packing his gear.

Looking down in the crater, Brock wondered where the dirt had gone. It occurred to him more than just dirt must have flown about the valley on that day. Ammunition must have gone flying, too. How many old shells had they walked on during their time in the valley? How much of their survival was based on luck?

“Since we’re in one piece, why don’t we get the hell out of here?” Brock motioned Paulie as the man lit an inevitable cigarette.

“Try to catch me,” the cameraman walked south at a rapid pace.