Nearly Morning {A Captain America Story}

Chapter Twenty-Four

{Chapter Twenty-Four}

Side note: any feedback or advice you have is greatly appreciated and encouraged.

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AGENT BARTON.

LOCATION: MAIN FACTORY COMPLEX. LONG ISLAND, NY.
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Heading into the main entrance gates of the facility, two security men stood before me, their x-ray scanners ready and waiting.

As I step up to them I raise my hands and let their scanners search me, the little indicator beeping at a steady rhythm. Once the scan came up clear they gave me a curt nod.

Just about to place one foot through the door, I am yanked back by one of the guards who grabs my bow out of my hand.

I open my mouth in protest, but all he says is "No weapons allowed."

The other guy pulls the quiver of arrows from my back and lays them in a plastic tray at the scanner.

"You can retrieve them when you leave." He says in his monotone robot voice.

Pouting, I give them both the stink eye before marching forward through the door. My palm itches. It feels unprotected without my weapon at my side.

Heading into what looks like a waiting room, but the size of an airport hangar, a short stumpy woman approaches me, dressed in a white lab coat.

"Hello. How may I help you? Do you have an appointment?" She says in a shrill, high pitched voice.

"I need to find Abraham Zimmer." I tell her.

Her eyes spark with recognition, but they quickly sweep over with a blank stare.

"I'm afraid there is no Abraham Zimmer here on staff."

Taking a weighted step towards her, I give her a hard stare.

"Now you and I both know that isn't true. So why don't you do me a favour and tell me where he is."

The woman's gaze didn't waver as she responded.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Placing my hands up in mock surrender, I turn and collapse into one of the chairs that line the wall. Getting comfortable, I lay across three chairs and clasp my hands together.

"I can wait."

I can hear her fiery breath fume as she huffs and turns back towards her reception desk. Typing a few strokes across the keyboard, I watch her try to absentmindedly alert security of my presence. With a sly glance in my direction, I give a wide-toothed grin to her as I slump lower into the chairs, closing my eyes.

A few minutes later, the ruffle of plastic coats grabs my attention. Carefully squinting one eye open, I observe the woman casually walk over to the security guards entering a doorway that leads further into the complex. Tracing every footstep, every movement, I wait.

As the woman stops before the guards, I read her lips as she speaks to the group of four guards. That is when I make my move. Bursting out of my seat, I make a beeline for the doorway on the opposite side of the room, sprinting hard and fast as I hear the guards shout when they realise what I'm doing.

Getting through the door was one thing, making my way up the corridors that were swarmed with people and having no idea where I was going was definitely another. Without slowing down, I use my arms to barge through the workers who stop in their tracks to watch the commotion unfold.