Headless by Robert Thompson Page B

your boss, I don't have to do the shit work anymore, you do the shit work,” he mocked of Sheriff Williams and grumbled, as he made his way closer to the bridge. “Born and raised in Boston, I take this cake walk job nobody else wants, and they stick my ass out here in the woods searching for some crazy old codger. Not my fault he has Alzheimer’s. Put his ass in a home, or something.”
         The Deputy kicks a rock, sending it flying off the ledge past the bridge, and it falls into the water below. He shoves his hands in his pockets, and storms along.
         “Jenkins! Mr. Jenkins! You out there?!” He screams, as he stops at the edge of the bridge, turning around. He notices Ray's car sitting at the entrance of the bridge, and does a quick walk around it, assuming whoever it belongs too has already crossed over to the old town. He notes the lit pumpkins on either side of the entrance to the bridge, as he starts to cross over.
         As he strode across the bridge, he couldn't help but notice the various holes in the wood. None of them were particularly large, except for one off to the side. He made his way to it, and looked down to the water below.
         “Please don't be down there dead,” Hadley whispered as he knelt down to the hole, sticking his head down into it.
         Nothing. At least so far as he could see, but the river may have washed anything downstream as well. Hadley jumped though, when a loud neigh echoed across the bridge. He bangs his head on the wood, and groans grabbing his scalp, looking around. There's no horse to be seen.
         “Hello? Mr. Jenkins? Anybody out there?” He yelled, looking both ways down the bridge.
         After a moment of no response, he climbed to his feet, and continued his way across the bridge. As he walked along the path, he noticed the waning sun, and clouds coming in. It would be dark soon, and probably raining. He wasn't going to find the old man in that weather.
         “Mr. Jenkins! Deputy Hadley! We spoke on the CB earlier? You out there?”
         He peered into the trees, but there wasn't much to make out. They were thick in most spots. Bushes, and piles of fallen leaves hid a lot of the rest.
         “MR. JENKINS!” He screams out. Birds fly away at the loud noise, but still no response.
         He continues on down the path, as the buildings slowly come into sight. He stops at the same cooler everyone else has, and looks down at it, noting the absence of any owners.
         “This is Deputy Hadley, anyone out there? I'm looking for an elderly man, name of Jenkins! Anyone?” Motion in one of the upper windows of the nearest home catches his attention, but he can't make out the appearance. “Mr. Jenkins, is that you?”
         The body moves away from the window.
         “God damn it. I swear, if you're some kids trying to fuck with me, I'm going to taser each and every one of you! I promise you that!”
         He makes his way to the house, stepping in over the pile of scrap wood that used to be the door. Hadley takes his flashlight from his belt, and clicks it on, turning it around the dusty room. An old brick fire pit adorns the corner, and various pieces of furniture lie in shambles around the room.
         The Deputy makes his way through the room, and into the dining area, where the stairs going up wait on him. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, pointing the light up them.
         “Come on down? Police!”
         He waits for a response. Nothing. Then several steps echo on the wood above his head, and then stop.
         “Mr. Jenkins? Come on down, sir! I'm here to take you home!”
         Still no response. He exhales heavily, and storms half way up the stairs.
         “Look, Jenkins, I want to get back to the car before it starts pouring...” he cuts off half way through, as he shines the light at nothing.
         He slowly starts to turn on the stairs, and finds the Horseman