Ship Four

Following the laughter, the distinct smell of the ocean. All barnacle and salt and half eaten fish and wet wood. 

Singing. 

A voice, barely descernable, floating over the Las Vegas dirt. 

I’m thirsty. 

The laughter again. It’s definitely the teenage girl. 

I step in a puddle, mud sucking on my shoe. 

I hear a gun shot. It stops my heart and breaks the night in half. 

I don’t remember reading about the cop missing his gun. 

There is a strange glow in the distance. It seems to be pulsing. 

I point my flashlight towards it and start walking. 

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