Frankie
I stare at the old building as memories flood my mind. My father held my and my sister’s hands while Carter ran around. He was explaining how our grandfather owned several large manufacturing plants. He never did tell us what happened to them.
The faint scent of canned corn hangs in the air, as does leather. Hazel comes alive in my head and paces. ‘Mate,’ She says repeatedly.
“So, how do we get in there?” Ted asks.
I glance at him. He has his father’s blood splattered on his shirt, yet he doesn't seem
phased. I am sad that Roscoe is dead, but I am also focused on finding Clayton. “I will make sure your father gets a proper burial,” I say to Ted.
He wrinkles his nose, “My father would have detested being buried. I’ll handle it.”
“So, are we just going to stand out here,” Eri
