Retribution

THIS SEEMS TO BE A MORNING FOR SURPRISES.

This time, I'm looking down at the warehouse from my perch on the frontage road and even the security car is gone.

Now, that doesn't mean one of the guards didn't drop the other off or go for coffee, but it does give me a window of opportunity.

One guard, with or without the mutt, is better than two.

I head for the back. It's still deserted. Eerily different from my first visit yesterday when the parking lot was full and trucks came and went like ants at a picnic.

I launch myself upward. The windows on the first floor allow me a peek into the factory. I 'm looking for the security guard. No one in sight. It isn't until I've allowed myself a scan of the area that I'm aware of what else I'm not seeing.

I'm not seeing anything on the conveyor belt.

The conveyor belt is completely empty.

About the same time that registers, the hair on the back of my neck rustles as if touched by the hand of god.

It's the last thing I feel before I'm blown off the building and slammed into the ground.