SEQUECE SIX: Sin six
“It’s said that he comes once then see’s you again, In Hell.” Johnny mumbles from in under his tong, not wanting to pay any attention to the arguing and joking of Sin 6. The girls; Jaclyn and Teresa both let out what breaths they were left with from after Scott had them in a tickle; sticking the bong pipe tubes up his nose and sucking the smoke up into his noise as he blew it out saying; ‘We are, we were, here now for then until are blood is bled into the flames of Hell.’
“Do you think she could have escaped, like lived if she was wearing that cross?” Jaclyn asked, leaning her head up over the electrifying ball as it splits electric volts around its inner glass. The four of them go numb, only the sounds of the electric ball set on the table in front of them has a means for thought as it flares off the wall of Johnny’s basement.
“Her, what about him?” Scott says, leaning his head in towards the table as his backside lifts from off of the couch. Jaclyn grips on to Johnny’s hand, staring deep into Scott’s eyes as Teresa lays her hand on to his back and rubs it down calmly as he stares across the table on to Jaclyn and Johnny then says, “He’s the one who should be merited upon.”
“He burned a fucking church down, after he slaughtered the chief of police.” Johnny said, getting in on the conversation, sitting himself upright and preparing for an argument.
“No fucking way, they wouldn’t leave him alone. When Sin six hit head lines he gave him a line to sign him self in under a Sin Six.” Scott said, leaning back and resting in against the cushions on the love seat he and Teresa are on.
Johnny grabs the bong pipe, handles his side of the tubes, and says. “After six rapes then the ones on the Sunday shift at that old church. Besides this is ancient news.” He brings the tube, setting the bead in on his lip and sucks. Jaclyn watches as the weed sprinkled with rock cocaine goes in to a dashing flare then grabs a hold of her tube as Johnny sits back, blowing the lung fills he had just held in. Starring in to the red spiting flames from in the bowl as she sucks back a wind of smoke; Jaclyn sets her sight in deep around the bowl, watching the flames sizzle in on a dangling cross as it rises up above the bowl then spins into a burning cloud of smoke wiping in to her face in a sequence of six’s as each cloud forms into a number six. The panicking look holds in on her face, leaving her only the juices on her tong as description as her eyes burn in to tears as the smoke pass up from her lungs, leaving her lifeless as she falls back in to her seat, turning her head on to Johnnie’s shoulder, giving him a look of a need for help that has held her in despair.
“Wohowoo” Scott blows from off of the top of his lungs, waving his hand up over his face to clear the Smokey air.
Jaclyn gasps for a breath, lifting her head up and sucking for wind then screams as her eyes spin around in her head. Johnny lays his arm over her chest and watches as her eyes spin and jaw drops. Jaclyn left in a stir, staring in to nowhere but the motions of six’s as her eyes lead her in to its rotating figure, giving her the sight of the number its self as it appears then “Six,” she mumbles. “Six,” mumbling it again then ‘slap’ Johnny’s hand lands on her face.
Scott and Teresa sit still, staring in to Jaclyn’s eyes then watch as Johnny begins to tremble the table from between them with his leg.
“It was here, I seen it.” Jaclyn said then whispers. “It wanted me to release it.” Pointing on to the bowl as it lightly burns smoke from in the pipe then before she could meet eye to eye with the others the bolt of electricity sparks from out of the ball and leaves her looking in under its light as the blood spits up leaving her to her last sight of Six’s in blood as they splattered all around then spilled in to her eye sockets as it spilled from the one curved into her head.
Echoes of Sin Six run thru the halls of St. Augustine private school. An academic facility for the siblings of the wealthy; the under achievers and the less fortunate ones who are in need of that extra discipline for support. The echoes for some have followed them right in to the chair. As their nimble limbs limp and bring weep up in to their breaths. Alright Students, we are all aware of today’s date.” Mr. Sole says, pointing his chalk stick up to the board as it displays the days date; August 6.
“I usually discard any attention towards the incidents that have occurred. I have come to realize, around here it seem impossible, and for once I would like to let it be known and make it aware.” Says Mr. Sole then steps in to his desk, looks over the class then down on to the antecedence sheet as it flaps against his hip.
“Was he a student here Mr. Sole?” Asked Alice, the petite little French girl, wearing her hair in French braids as the bangs cover her eyes in long blond curls and holds her head up smiling as Mr. Sole looks around at the rest of her classmates to see if he can spot one in discomfort.
“I wouldn’t know Alice; I spent my summer’s out, in under the sun. Unlike some academic mischievous.” He says in a louder tone then normal as he steps in behind his desk then sits himself in.
“I know one thing for sure,” He says, looking around at his pupils and wondering if they are ready for what they are about to be told.
“Its nonsense, a practice for word as it was to begin with and how it was years after.” He said.
“The sin cellar six?” Steve said. Popping his head up then lowing himself back as he raised up his hand then sliding it back down along the top of his head, biting his teeth together, unsure if he was speaking out or if what he said was not going to be declared. Mr. Sole watched as the level rised from the rows in heads then said. “Yes that’s right; I see some what of the same image around here once a year running down these halls as it did this morning. That is how its word went from nonsense to practice. Four dead bodies, Blood splattered six’s on the walls. To begin with, it ran in a sequence of six. Rape, murder, and the one un holly ness of them all in a pattern of the six; The number that ended in a flame of a burning church. Six as in, for; Sin Six is how they announced this madman, who he him self was pleading in innocents. A manhunt that ended in a man done and how he done was for how it’s done. That is my perspective. As for the so called sin cellar six.”
“He scene then is scene once again in hell?” Alice whispered in over the heads of the students in front of her, watching as Mr. Sole glared a creeping eye onto her.
“Ya” He responds to her unexpected announcement, staring on to her then watching as his students begin to mumble their lips. “Are aright.” The voices air into the classroom as he begins sensing the blood dripping from out of his eye’s, rolling down his cheek in patterns of six’s as his pupil begins spilling it in blood into his eye; leaving him with nothing but a six in his bloody sight.
Three rows of desks, ten to a row and six of them in each display a bloody massacre. Six students displayed in each of the three rows as their blood drips down on to the floor from off the chair legs as the heads of each are opened, the brains exposed, the back bones ripped out and left to dry. The students stand out side of the classroom, looking in and staring on to what remains of Mr. Sole. His skeletal laid out on his desk as his remains are splattered in behind it all over the chalk board, dripping down in blood and guts as his skull sits put; looking into the ceiling as if he has been laid there to watch his flesh drip from off of the board.
She lays there motionless, bearing her breast as the bloody gashes in them drip blood down along her ribs and on to the grass that add a sense of discomfort as the police officer’s move in around her in silence with only the liveliness of the greens crackling in a crunch from in under their feet.
“Turn her over.” The sheriff says, holding his hand out as the officer next to him shines on his light.
Her body flops over, as the officer steps back and away, holding his breath and bringing his arm in from above the backside of the body he has just kneeled over and flipped. “God” He says as the light shines in on the slices engraved into her back.
“Alright, close this area down. I want no one in and if, then no one out. If the churches next door find out about this we’ll be in with the media and I don’t need that.” The chief says as he kneels down, pulling a swab sticks from out of his pocket and stares in to the swirl sliced into the girls back; following it around as it spins around in a twirling slice.
“Was she raped?” The officer asks then says. “It looks like this was done hear, as if she was held down by the back of her head,” As the Sheriff sets the swab stick in along her inner but cheek and pulls them apart sliding it down into her vagina and exposing the flesh.
“Not a rape.” He says to the officers and stands to his feet saying. “God dam,” then stands in over the body, looking on to the carving from on her back, following it with his eye as it swirls them on off.
“She died of trauma, fear. He couldn’t have his way with her wile she was alive then probably had his own way while he curved that into her back and I’m guessing we’ll be seeing a couple more. Why he chose this grass land here next to the church I don’t know and I don’t want to know.” The sheriff said as he slowly walked away from in under the lights then stepping in thru the crowd of investigators as he heads out to his car.
The newspaper drops on his desk, blowing the hair from around his ears up with the wind as the paper wisped in to his eyes before he had the opportunity to greet the unexpected visit he is now stuck head to head with from over his desk. Father Saxton stares deep into Sheriff Holer’s eyes, his hands laid flat onto the newspaper he walked in and slapped onto the chiefs desk. The Chief Holler catching a few deputies from in the corner of his eye as they step in towards his office door. “Sit down Father.” The Sheriff says then waves his hand over to the deputies and singles them to close his door. Father Saxton steps back to the sound of the closed door, leaving Sheriff Holer to the front page headline from on the newspaper laid out square on the top of his desk.
“Have you seen that?” Father Saxton asks as he sits him self to the chair. Sheriff Holer lifts his brow, nods his head slowly as his mouth puckers to one side.
“You where there.” Father Saxton says.
“Now father, this is off your grounds.”
“It is my ground. A unholy death, unholy is how they describe it. Not to mention the markings on her back.”
“You know?” Sheriff Holer mumbled from in under his breath.
“I know, I know all when it comes to my door and I’m the one who is going to be explaining it when this all hits into the wind. I believe it has something to do with a swirl, a cut of the number Six hounded and sixty six running in sequence.”
“In sequence?” The Sheriff questions, knowing he is going to be expecting another.
“Sequence, that’s how and that will be how. A son of the devil is here in our town and we need him stopped abominated before this ends us in abomination.”
The night storms in quicker then it once has, the days end in over the church ended in a silence, leaving the towns people with no more then a shadowed image of the greens that lay next to the church; a image of death as it was displayed and viewed by all as a shocking death, one with language but one they do not know yet. The Sherrif and his men take to the grounds, holding a numb and bored feeling as they wait for their radios to be alerting them on the next scene as the Sheriff had informed them that there could be a second and tonight could be when. The chief stands back as his men continue to step in under the dark as it pitches from in under the shade from the bright shining moon that darkens the green from in the right side of the church.
A light brush hits into the air from in the churches ground. The Sheriff turns toward the sound, looking in onto the church then steps towards it as his men step in shinning their lights.
“What is it.” The officer asked as his partner stepped in closer to see if it was coming from the church’s fence line or if it was laid out in front as, he remembered the body from last night, using the sounds of the grass crunching from beneath him as a sing that he hasn’t stepped onto holly grounds yet.
“Stand aside.” The Sheriff says, pointing his light then stepping in as he begins to shine on flesh.
“Good God.” Yelped the chief as he’s met eye to eye with the weekending girls foot, wiggling her toes as she pinned up on the fence and beginning to choke up what wind she had left as the Sheriff watch’s her fall in to ease and dropping her head.
“Sheriff, Sheriff.” The officer says then looks onto his partner as he stands still shinning the light on to the sheriffs head. The two officers stand still, their mouths wide open and staring at the Sheriff as if there is something to be read.
“What is it God Dam it.” The Sheriff asked as he to officers stand in shock, looking on to him and on to the girl from above his head as the blood splatter on their sheriff head shows them the same swirling six as it was curved onto the body before they have now met with the second. The sheriff waits for one of the two officers to respond, watching them as they stared on to his face and feeling the tingling sensation of the blood that was choked up on to him. He brings his hand up to his face, rubs it down, relieving the itch and discomforting thought saying. “Don’t touch the body, double check for pulse, from her inner thigh.” Then brings his hand out in front of his face, starring straight in to a swirl of blood as it reads out Six hundred and sixty six. He looks on to the officers, wondering if that was what they had scene then looks back down on to his hand as the blood smired into a palm of thinning blood.
“She’s dead. That coughing must have been from the wind blowing her down or clogging her mouth. This body is ice cold and already paler then a vampire’s ass.” Says the officer as he stepped back and away from the gates.
“How in the hell could they get her up there with out making a noise? She some kind of freak.” The officer standing in behind the sheriff said and continues to hold his light onto her.
As the Sheriff walks in towards her slowly, he watches as her head has been placed on to the spike from above her neck leaving her neck leaning forward over the body, spilling out what blood there is left. “She’s dead alright, her head has been decapitated.” He says then watched as the blood begin to spill down along her stomach and on to her legs in patterns of the number six. “He’s playing with us.” He says as his eyes roll in along with the swirling blood leading his eyes down on to the droplets as they splash on to the grass knocking him out of its trance.
A bolt of energy hits into the nightly sky, the two main gates from in the church’s backside light up, leaving a dim glow in around the Sheriff and his two men. The Sheriff steps in towards it, telling his men, “You two stay here until the investigator get here,” and walks on in under the light thinking the mess he was now in as another corps has been found and this time with blood on the churches side of the fence.
“Please stay their miss.” He says as the women in a white gown steps from in behind the gate towards him.
“We have it all under control Mam, if you would, I need you to wait in side, to turn out these lights and refrain from coming out or letting any one else out. I am trying to keep this under wraps. Father Saxon knows why and what I’m talking about.”
“Alright son.” She says, holding her gown up above her feet with her hands gasping her hips and turns her back to walk away.
Morning was just around the corner from inside of the sheriff’s office but for the big city reporters it was the next big thing to a early breakfast with a family of cannibals. Sheriff Holer sits inside, letting his chin deflect the steam rising up from his coffee as he thinks of what he is going to saying to the hungry mob of brainteasers as they set up their television recording equipment outside. The autopsy read like a butcher blows fog in to the tip of his blade. Leaving him with only what he was told at the scene. ‘clean cut thru the neck.’ The expression sinks into the back of his head, letting the image of the woman’s head set up on the fence post as her body hung there from her neck, the gate fence spike set in to her back just right, leaving her there to dry until some one, if not him and his men, then the crowds of people who would have been there this morning snooping around the murder scene from the night before.
“I’ll handle this.” The Sheriff says as he walks in towards the front desk as his men begin pushing the reporters away from in the entrance.
“Sheriff Holer is this second murder, two in one day?” The reporter dressed in her leather mini skirt, vest and leather tie asks him as he steps out on to the top step of the outside entrance of the office waving his hand and telling them to calmly step back.
“Is this a serial?” “How about vengeance.” “Are we expecting another?” The crowd of reporters spit in to the air, question after question until Sheriff Holer heard one of them mention the engravings on the victims back then said. “I am looking in to this, for now it’s a open case. We have no details or any clues. We are asking anyone who new the victims to step forward. Until we have a guilty plea or a trial in court, this sheriff’s office is off grounds. So please, help your selves to our bed and breakfasts here in town if you have to but until then please stay out of our way.”
“Sheriff Holer please one question, we have a job to do to you know.” Said the young woman, as Sheriff Holer stares on to her, stilling sensing the feel of her leather and the perfume she wares from when he escorted her from off of the front step.
“One question then you folks have to leave.” He says, looking over the crowd then stopped and looked on to the reporter warring the snazzy little leather outfit. “Alright” he says to her, holding his chin up and waiting for her request.
“Is this in any way a relation to the holly church?” She asks, standing stiff in her high heels, her knees pressed in together as her shoulders spread back and waiting for the Sheriff to respond to the one question they all had been entitled to be answered.
“This is a police station, sheriff’s office.” He says, looking over all the flashing cameras then says. “We enforce the law. Murders have been committed as for the church it stands as it did. Holly or non-holly, we will catch this act and let it be justified from in the law. Now thank you enjoy the day and please stay out of our way.” The chief turns his back onto the crowd of reporters, opens the door, steps in then signals for one of his men to come to him from the coffee counter in the far counter. “I need you to go out there, grab father sexton and walk him in thru the back. I’ll be in my office.”
“Please sit down father.” Holer says as the priest walks himself in, warring his regular close, holding a coffee and a envelope in the other hand.
“What’s this?” Holer said as Father Saxton slapped the envelope onto his desk.
“I have a few seeds in mind, one unparticular has been bubbling my blood ever since I’ve laid my eyes onto him?”
“What do you mean father?”
“Prints, those are his prints.” The priest says holding in a slight tone from the guilt he passed out from under his breath. Sheriff Holer looks onto him, staring him in the eye and inhaling a new view onto the case as Father Saxton begins stepping in on it, treading along as if it’s a part of his now.
“Prints of who and why, why now Saxton? These murders aren’t an after math of divorce court or a few kids ruff housing and it sure as hell wasn’t some grazed drunk or outsider on drugs.”
“My church, my law, under one God. Those murders couldn’t have come from anywhere else.”
“And this print.” Sheriff Holer asks, holding up the envelope then says, “Is this your law, or am I bringing him in myself?”
“This boy is a work from evil. He’s been in conduct and with conduct since the day he has stepped onto our grounds. Our Mother Sharice, God bless her soul. It was the work of the devil that has laid her to dirt. The boy, he is evil.”
“Well were does he live?”
“That I do not know. He was discharged after he turned twenty-one from then he was no longer my responsibility.”
“Well I’ll run this in.” Holer says, looking onto the beads of sweat as they begin to pop out of the priests head.
“He was brought to me from out of nowhere? Left at my door as if I was assuming responsibility for him. No name, he had no name, no Id, pitchers of loved ones or dirt in under his nails. I remember he appeared at the door clean as if he was never touched or exposed to our winds.”
“Well Father, I’ll see what I can do. I think you should close down your grounds for a day or two, keep everyone away and inside until this mess clears. I wouldn’t want to turn your show into a freak as it almost did earlier. Those reporters are hungry and their on this as if the church is next.”
“Yes wonderful speech by the way. You would have made your father proud.” Said the priest as he stood in behind Holers door then stepped out, closing the door in behind him.
“Why are we the last to hear about this.” The Sheriff asks the young officer, standing in front of the patrol car as smiling reporters walk them by smiling.
“ I hope there ant one dirty print or some city slicking hair on that bodied Holer.” The investigator says, slipping it in to Holer’s ear as he walked him on by.
“Round up the men, secure this area and push these reporters away. Arrest them if you have to. I want this parking lot cleared.” Sheriff Holer says to the officer as he lifts his backside up off the car. As he walks in towards the lights, counting each parking space as images of the swirling slice on the first victims back assist him in the count as he steps in towards the body that has now stopped him on the sixth count.
“In your own back yard hu Holler.” The investigator said to him as he stepped in under the light shinning over the dead corps then asks him. “Well does she look familiar?”
“She’s the cleaning lady” Holer said, holding his head up with his hand in under his chin and says, “She was just in my office, before I left” as he kneeled down to the body as it was fully revealed from under in under the black tarp.
“Another swirling work of art.” Says the investigator as Holer stares deep into the gashes in her eye then rolling his eyes down onto her breast trying to pass her nipples breast as the blood leads him on to her legs where the swirls continue to bleed down along her knees from in-between her thighs.
“Get it out of here, covered and out.” He says as he stands, stepping back, looking over the investigators then says. “Lets go, I want it gone. There’s nothing to recover here, this scenes contaminated with these idiots flashing their cameras all over the place. For now, those swirls are scrapes and defensive wounds. I need all our women to be on their feet now, aware of what is going on. We got some sick manic out here attacking women and now he’s gone to far.” Sheriff Holar says, walking away, feeling another day beginning to ware down his eyes as he kicks the dirt up using the weight from in his tiring feet that walk him on thru his own sheriff’s station parking lot wile a dead corps lays on in one of its parking spots.
“Yes.” Father Saxton says, bringing the phone down from over his ear after Sheriff Holer had advised him to stay indoors. Father Saxton stands to his feet, thinking over what had just been explained to him; A women found dead in the police stations parking lot. A cleaning lady, the women who kept Sheriff Holler’s office clean and tidy, dead on the ground, her breast engraved in the one sign as its engraved in to her nipples as the ones on her legs swirl the blood as it drips down along them. He steps into the hall, walking down in under the candles light as they lead him on thru into his chapel. Among entering, he leads his right hand up to his head, blessing himself from sin as it followed him on thru the hall.
“Yes Sister Dina,” He says as she leaves him with one lit candle from in the chapel’s ceremonial stand. She bows as he stepped in, on to his preachers mount then stepped her self-aside after bowing to him once again.
“The flesh of our God,” He says as he un cover the dish containing the holly bred, brings one up to his face and watches as it becomes thin and dry, setting it in to his mouth. The wine glass sits its self directly under his left hand, covered with a white cloth. “The Blood of our God.” He says, uncovering the glass, patting the cloth down on the stand and lifting the cup with the other as his eyes begin to stare down in to the redness of the wine. He watches, as the gold cup tilts the wine back into his mouth before he stopped, letting the wine bubble into his throat. Standing still, he stares into the reflection from in the wine and from off of the golden cup. As he turned his head to face, the image that was shinning in from behind, his breath sprouts the wine up into his nasal, letting it drip down from out of his noise as he turned in a hunch, starring up on to the one face he was not willing to except.
“It was not my doing son, not my fault.” The priest says as the wine spits from of his lips and onto the hand as it spread in front of his face then begins to move its index finger, rotating it into a circular motion. Father Saxton follows the finger, pointing in his face, dropping down to his knees as he watches it spill six’s onto his face, beginning to drip into his eyes as he lays out flat on his back.
“I can help.” He says, wiping the wine from out of his eyes then stares deep into the disfigured face, the face he once knew and once enjoyed staring into as its disfigurements played a sentimental contribute to those who played with the darker practices, those forbidden to his. A scream shakes in thru the chapel, echoing into a crashing ache, leaving the priest to the last sight he could live to see; the legs and feet of the devil as they sprung up over his preacher stand as they land in front of the nun holding the one candle that she had left lit. The flame burns up into the disfigured face of the boy she once knew then begins to twitch, crackling wax and sparks up the number six as she slowly watches it being swung ,ending her life as it went dark, knocking her to the floor then placed deep into her mouth as it crunched down in.
“Yes Sheriff Holer please.” The low, tingling voice cracks in to his ear.
“This is” He says, wondering who could be on the other side at this time of the night.
“Yes, you are being requested from Father Saxton, he is having troubles coping with the night.”
“I’ll be there .” he says, then turns, looks at his wife as she sinks her head own in to the corner of his pillow.
As Sheriff Holer steps onto his drive way, he feels a deep cool breeze, coming from the side of his house, he turns and walks over then seen as the one window he would have never et open has been opened wide as his cool conditioned ai leeks out into the gloom from the midmornings wind.
“Sweet heart?” He says as he begins to walk in, stepping into his hallway, taking deeper strides as he hears the mumbling and screams from in his wife’s breath.
“God.” He says reaching for his gun then as the images appeared closer, leaving his wife to the blood it has shed; six’s begin to circle in on him. He watches as they spill from off of his bed, down along the carpeted floor and in towards him like a pack of blood snakes and before he could re grip his gun, his hand is already in the bloody mess.
“Stop.” He yells, watching the manly image walk by his side as the blood dripping snakes is tangling him in. As the front door slammed shut, the snakes in blood dropped down to his feet. He looks onto his wife, she lays there in a spill from her own blood, lifeless like the rest as her legs lay spread wide open as the blood pours down to the foot of the bed.
“This is the Sheriff. I need E.R at my home. E. R.” He spits into his radio, running out his front door then as he stepped into his car; he saw the image standing in under the street light; waving him on, then turned and ran out along the street and the Sheriff knows exactly where its going to go.
The front gates of the church still swing back and forth. The sheriff, leans in in his seat, grabs a hand full of flares then steps out, cracking one in to flames, and then throws it into the walkway as it burns a flare shadowing in thru the churches front door. He steps in on the pathway slowly, letting the gates rock back and forth, swing a shade in spikes as he watches the flame light up into the empty doorway of the church; lighting in on the chapel and standing himself in behind the first row of benches then strikes up the last flare. As the flare burns, providing him with a few feet of a light as it glows, he reaches his hand up out, swinging it back and forth as he walks down the center isle. He looks up, as he would, looking up into the Preacher stand then his next step as he stares deep into the incoming image; the image that left him from his home; he trips, falls over and lands next to the nun as her mouth splits wide open from the candle holder inside of it from when he stepped on. “God” He says, from out of his breath then turned his head quickly towards the front of the chapel remembering that he was not alone. The flare burns next to him, shooting out a flame as he stands to one knee. Before he can reach down and pick up the flare, it begins to wave around, swing up then landing in behind his head. Leaving The sheriff with only the glow from behind him as he stares in to the preachers stand, thinking he was now done and over with then turned around slowly, rubbing his knees down in to the floor and is stuck eye to eye with a man holding up his flare as it pours down his hand; burning and melting the skin away until flesh revealed bone.
“Why” Sheriff Holer said, holding his mouth wide open. “Why” then watches as the light shines into a face from above his with the number six swirling around in to what looked like; skin exposed to some kind of chemical waist. The eyes begin to squint, sending six’s all around his cheeks, the flare begins to burn a yellow flame as it swirls up into a number six. Sheriff Holler watches as the head begins to shake, sending pulses in down along the body as it grips onto the flare tight then from behind he see’s one of his men stepping in to thru the gates. Before Sheriff Holer could lean back, the hand of the man reaches out, setting the palm onto the sheriffs head as a pulse runs thru, shaking the sheriff into a swirling balance and leaving him with what he has felt as the flames burst into a sizzling spark, declaring the number in patterns as the flames blew in thru the church charging in a six hundred and sixty six and leaving the last of its swirls for the crew of photographers, firemen and into the eyes of Sheriff Holer’s men.