‘I’m feeling it,’ I said. ‘The acid, not the band.’
‘Me too,’ said Allan.
And James nodded, though he looked a little scared. But we said nothing and smoked. The moon was bright and there were rippling cloudbanks that moved fast past the moon, screening it briefly but sheer.
‘When do they go on?’ said James.
‘Next,’ said Allan. ‘I’m feeling it. I’m definitely feeling it.’
James and I nodded, our bloodshot eyes wide open.
We went inside and the music was loud, the band was screaming, it seemed like all of them were screaming, and it was all distorted and muddy and we moved into the crowd toward the stage but quickly turned around as the crowd pushed and slammed into each other the closer we got to the stage. We moved back toward the bar.
‘I kind of want to get the fuck out of here,’ I said.
‘I wouldn’t mind leaving, either,’ said James.
‘Sure,’ said Allan. ‘I don’t really care.’
‘Let’s head back to the mill,’ I said.
As we left the bar, there was still a line bending around the corner. The car was as we had left it and there wasn’t a ticket on the windshield. We piled in and spun out of the parking lot and northward toward the mill. The streetlights cast large shadows of their poles, stretching out like elastic arms, like the guy from the Fantastic Four, the leader, though I’d forgotten his name — Dr. Something, I thought.
No one was talking and we were left alone with our bending thoughts. Eventually, Allan broke the silence.
‘I need something salty,’ he said. ‘Can we get some nuts or something from the mill?’
‘Sure,’ said James.
The Riviera descended the dark mill hill and in its lights were geese waddling out of the way, some hissing, wings spread, waddling quickly, and we pulled into the mill parking lot.
‘What the fuck?’ said James, stopping the car.
‘What?’ we said.
‘The office light,’ he said, motioning with his head, hands gripping the wheel. ‘It’s always left on. It’s how my dad says we can tell if someone came in and tried to rob the safe.’
‘How’s that?’ said Allan.
‘Chances are they’ll think they turned on the light and shut it off on their way out.’
‘Are you saying you think someone tried to rob the safe while we were gone?’ I said. ‘You probably shut the light off after you went in and cashed Al’s cheque.’
‘Of course that’s what happened,’ said Allan. ‘Come on. It’s not like someone’s been here and robbed the mill in the hour we’ve been gone.’
‘You never know,’ said James. ‘And I know I didn’t shut that light off. We always leave it on — when I was a little kid, even, I’d be lectured on never shutting off the light. It’s ingrained in me to never shut off the office light. My grandfather never shut it off. My dad never shuts it off. I never shut it off. Everybody knows not to shut it off.’
‘Maybe a bulb burnt out,’ I said.
‘There’re a couple of fluorescent lights.’
‘Man, you were rushing in to cash my cheque,’ said Allan. ‘You probably just shut it off. I mean, we’re on acid.’
‘Yeah, but we’d just taken it.’
‘Maybe the power went out,’ I offered.
Pointing toward the mill’s third-floor windows, James said, ‘Then why are those lights on?’
‘Man, I just highly doubt someone robbed the place. Could be a blown fuse.’
‘Let’s go in and check,’ said Allan.
We got out of the car and the moon was still above us, above the valley, over the highway, and the cloud cover was still moving quickly past the moon. The branches were blowing around and leaves were blowing from the walls of the valley and around the parking lot.
‘Are you freaked out?’ said Allan to James, who answered, ‘A little.’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ I said.
We walked up the ramp to the loading dock in single file — James, Allan and me — and stopped at the large door as James inserted a small key in the large padlock and the lock popped and he slid it off the staple and opened the hasp and hooked the lock back on the ring, saying, ‘I’ve got a really bad feeling about this,’ and he looked greenish and worried. ‘I’m not sure I want to do this.’
‘So why don’t we call your dad,’ I said, ‘or the police.’
‘Are you out of your mind,’ said Allan. ‘The police! I don’t know about you but I’m on acid and the idea of talking to the police right now is nuts.’
‘You’re right, you’re right,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
‘Let’s just check it out,’ said Allan.
James looked at us and opened the door, pressing his shoulder up against it, pushing with his whole body as we gathered behind him. The door opened widely on to the dark mill and James made his way directly past the machinery and quickly into the store, where the office was, and Allan and I followed. The store was dark and James moved past the shelves of various types of flour and nuts and bird-seeds, etc., and toward the office and turned on the light and said, ‘Ha!’ and we jumped. But when I looked, there was no one in the office and the safe was closed and presumably locked.
‘No one’s been here,’ I said. ‘Or at least no one has tampered with the safe.’
‘It doesn’t appear that way,’ said James, while assuring the safe was locked.
‘Well, mystery solved,’ said Allan.
‘What do you mean? We still don’t know who turned off the light.’
‘You did,’ said Allan.
‘No,’ said James. ‘I didn’t.’
‘Then it was a ghost.’
‘The switch was turned off. Why would a ghost do that?’
‘How am I supposed to know what an apparition would do,’ said Allan. ‘I don’t know any ghosts.’
‘They terrorize,’ I said.
‘How terrifying,’ said Allan. ‘They turned off the lights.’
‘I didn’t say it was a ghost,’ said James. ‘You said it was a ghost.’
‘I said it was you. And if not you, then a ghost.’
‘Well, it wasn’t me.’
‘I’d say it could’ve been somebody else but there are no signs of forced entry,’ I said.
‘Does it matter?’ said Allan. ‘Everything’s okay,’ he added. ‘Nothing’s been tampered with and nothing’s been stolen and everyone’s okay and maybe James’s arm brushed the switch on the way out. Who knows. It doesn’t matter now.’
As soon as Allan finished, the lights went out and somebody jumped and it felt like the room jumped.
‘What the fuck is that?’ said James.
‘It’s okay, man,’ I said, ‘the power’s gone out. It’ll come back on.’
And it did. Immediately.
‘That did freak me out,’ said Allan.
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘But it’s just the weather. The wind’s really picking up. Listen to it.’
And everyone went silent. And the high-pitched wind whistled fiercely, without pause.
‘This is creepy,’ said Allan. ‘But I’m sure it’s nothing; we’re all just high.’
‘Yeah,’ we said.
‘Everything’s okay,’ I said, ‘so there’s nothing to worry about. We should lock up the mill and go back to the house.’
‘Okay,’ said James. But then we heard the sound of breaking glass, a window shattering, I thought, and it was clear James and Allan had the same thought.
‘That came from upstairs,’ said James. ‘I think the second floor.’
‘NOT IT,’ I said.
‘NOT IT,’ said Allan.
‘I’m not going up alone. You guys are coming with,’ said James.
We followed, again in single file, as James led the way with a flashlight, though the lights were on, too. We went back into the mill proper — by the first, second and third breaks, the sifters, etc. — and up the first flight of dusty wooden stairs. The mill smelled of the diesel fuel that was used to mop up the wooden floors. The stairs creaked, the mill creaked, bending, as the loud wind bent everything.