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A tale of otherworldly terror and haunted wind turbines from Wayne Kyle Spitzer, author of Flashback and The Witch Doctor ...
... What on earth did you plan to do?
Dunn: Well, the only thing we could do, which was to right the boat and continue on-while doing our best to bail, of course. And that's when I first noticed it: way up there beyond the ridge; something moving, swinging, like the tip of a giant sword-only black against the sun-something which, after we'd scaled a nearby rockfall, turned out to be the blades of an industrial wind turbine-just one out of what seemed an endless array, spread out across the scrublands for as far as the eye could see, casting long shadows, like Cyclopean sentinels.
Detective Shaw: Cyclop-cyclopean-what is that? Is that Latin?
Dunn: Huge, Detective. Massive.
Detective Shaw: Right. And then, what? You returned to your boat?
Dunn: You know we didn't return to the boat.
Detective Shaw: Yes, I understand that, just as I understood they found a spiraled hole exactly one inch in diameter in the bottom of your canoe. But it's better for the record if I pretend I know nothing, okay?
Dunn: Okay. No, then we began walking, because we'd figured out where we were at-the Pyreridge Wind Farm just north of Edgerton, as you said. And we knew, also, that they gave tours there and even had a visitor's center; a center which might still be staffed even though it was extremely late in the day, and which would have a telephone.
Detective Shaw: A wise move.
Dunn: Yes, it was as good as any. Or so it seemed-until we came to the wind turbine with the white service truck parked at its base; and saw … where we saw …
Detective Shaw: Yes?
Dunn: You've seen the pictures, Detective.
Detective Shaw: But I need to pretend I have not. And I need to hear what you, personally, saw with your very own eyes. For the record, Dr. Dunn. Please.
Dunn: Where we saw a man, a service technician, by his clothes, hung by his neck from his own safety line … from the back of the wind turbine's nacelle. Just … just sort of swaying there, in the wind. A man who was missing one shoe. And who …
Detective Shaw: Go on …
Dunn: And who had no discernible face. Okay? (inaudible) He had no face. Isn't that good enough?