Whenever Stout shone his flashlight beam into one of the rooms, it illuminated stacks of mortar shells and explosives.
A friend of his comes in and shines a flashlight on it and says it looks like blood.
Bragging about how they can access their flashlight and turn off their Wi-Fi with the flick of a finger.
When the waves reached their violent peak, a BUD/S instructor standing on top of the jetty would signal with his flashlight.
When police arrived, he was cursing to himself and threw a flashlight at a mailbox and asked to be shot.
And now the flashlight again, searching the mechanism of the inner door—then darkness once more.
A flashlight gleamed for an instant and Dr. Bird started in surprise.
Wondering what it could be, he approached noiselessly and turned his flashlight upon the visitor.
The feeble ray of the flashlight was lost in the blackness below.
Upon the top was a tiny platform, and here he turned on his flashlight.