Crimson Harvest

“What now?” he thought. It would be hours before it opened, and he knew that every minute that passed shaved another sliver of hope from finding Heather. But as he turned away in frustration, a large, gray delivery truck came rumbling down the street. It turned the corner beside the club and disappeared down the alleyway. He could hear it slow to a stop and then, a moment later, a door opening and shutting.

Kevin smiled. “A service entrance! How convenient.” He stepped down from the entrance of the club and went to the corner of the building, taking a careful look down the alleyway. A man in a brown uniform was at the back of the truck, lifting its heavy door, which had in rather plain letters “Morton’s Paper Supply Company.” He slid out a well-used hand cart and then began stacking boxes onto it. He quickly had it loaded and disappeared through an open pair of double steel doors.

Kevin quietly made his way down the alley. He reached the van and listened a moment for the sound of returning feet. He did not hear any, so he walked slowly along the side of the van until he reached the door. Soon, he could hear the wheels of the hand cart as it drew near.

The delivery man walked past him with a bored expression on his face. Kevin nodded in silent greeting and then walked on in as if he knew where he was going. He could hear the hand cart clatter as it crossed the threshold of the doorway and landed on the pavement.

Kevin walked on through the dimly lit service entrance and into a long hallway that stretched out before him. He wondered if somewhere in the building his niece was being held prisoner.