As I stepped out of my car I attempted to clear my throat and in doing so, I realized that I hadn’t been breathing very much for the forty-minute drive here. My airways opened, greedily gulping down a bit of the morning air as the terrible feeling of something crawling in my throat prevented me from moving forward, like tiny little ants excavating a new hive. I switched to my nostrils for relief and tried not to think about the damned things, but they were there still, despite my efforts, taunting me with their
spiked mandibles.
I walked over to the yellow civic to have a look inside, and unsurprisingly, there was a great big fat man, fully reclined in his driver seat, belly exposed, and snoring like a fucking fiend. I resisted the urge to wake him, but I still found myself standing there looking in on him with my palm pressed against the glass, pondering how to politely wake him up and get him to move his vehicle.
I wouldn’t be an asshole about it, of course; I would simply ask inform him that it was time for him to go and at this particular hour, this parking space belonged to me. He would surely understand, sit up nice and straight, start his car, and drive back home where he would be able to get some proper sleep on his nice cozy bed. Yea, he would surely understand.
My sweaty hand formed a tight ball as I began to knock on his window, but before my knuckles even hit the glass his eyes opened so quickly that I wondered if they were ever closed at all. Luckily, quick reflexes run in the family, and before he was even able to get a good look at me, I was gone, sprinting towards the guard shack with only the sound of hurried footsteps to clue him in on the violence from which he was spared.
Funny thing, the guard shack, no one really cared what you brought into the building; it didn’t matter at all really. You could’ve walked into the building with a samurai sword stuffed down the front of your pants, just under your belt buckle, and they would let you in no questions asked. Sure, you might have gotten a few looks, but it was only on the way out that they seemed to really care what was in your immediate possession.
The personnel manning this outpost were obviously highly trained professionals, most likely ex-military. There were always four of them. An old man with an eye patch manned the x-ray machine that occupied the center of the room while another two wielded the handheld scanners and regulated the flow of people coming in and out. The final one, sat quietly on a chair, feigning sleep, but I knew better.
He was the leader of the group, covertly communicating with his squad through his secret codes that were embedded in his calculated grunts and persistent foot tapping that left the floor beneath him covered in black scuff marks. Despite this, people still attempted to make it through with all sorts of items: gold chains, cell phones, and calling cards. You name it, and somebody has tried to steal it. I once heard a story of a man who attempted to steal a twenty-foot python that was stuffed into a carpet container.
He claimed it was a gift. The poor fool. Someone told me he got put to death for his crime. Yea. They wired him up( to an IV stocked with adrenaline and LSD while the fucking thing swallowed him whole) with a constant flow of adrenaline and LSD and fed him piece by piece to that fucking snake. When his belly was all nice and bursting at the seams, they poured gasoline on him and set him on fire. The man with the eye patch took video of it. I heard he showed it to his children.....