*** FOR MATURE READERS ONLY ***
Have you ever seen danger? Have you ever looked into its eyes so deep that you would wonder what was so dangerous? You see, danger has a facade that no one seems to realize. That's how she was trained to be: dan...
You know when you have that feeling that something was wrong or was about to be wrong? It's that tingling feeling at the bottom of your stomach, the feeling of the hairs standing up on the back of your neck.
Now, if you were smart, you'd take nature's warning and call it a day. If you were smart, you'd go home, right? Well, I had a job to do so I couldn't just bail. Besides it probably had something to do with the fishy atmosphere cloaking the docks.
The breeze was light, the fishing boats rocking gently back and forth like a baby's crib. No one was out this evening but the eerie silence that walked with me. My eyes caught a white trailer truck with its container doors opened wide. At least I knew the shipment was here. I looked around for the men I was warned about but didn't see anyone which only led to the assumption that they were already inside the warehouse.
It was time to move.
I entered from the right, hustling over to the dark warehouse. I kept on my toes ensuring that my ears perked up at every sound. In situations like this, you have to adjust to your surroundings, and your sense of sound was important. In a dark place like this, sound was your best friend - the first thing Mom taught me. I peered around the corner of the building where the trunk stood still in front of the opening, noticing that no one stood guard.
Rookie mistake.
I walked over there, ensuring that my feet shuffled around quietly. There was nothing here, I told myself when I saw the empty truck. My brows furrowed when I looked behind me into the dark and saw nothing. I tried to squint my eyes but, still, I couldn't make anything of the area other than the darkness that walked through it. Putting a hand on the knife strapped to my upper thigh, I walked in.
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The smell of ancient wood combated with the natural salty air, with an intrusion of that fresh fish smell I hated. The scent always bothered me, ever since I was a little girl. I wormed my way over to one of the poles that touched down from the ceiling, being careful not to step on the broken wood pieces below my feet. The wood creaked and I cursed knocking my head back at the wooden accent before peeking around the column and checking for any sudden movements.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips when nothing came. I couldn't afford to mess this up as soon as I got in. I risked a step further, stealthily moving to another column, moving deeper into the darkness. The boards whispered, creaked, as I moved across them making me wince each time. These boards were so old, I complained.
But then another sound came.
It was the slightest sound but, in the pregnant silence, it echoed like sticks on a drumset. My heart picked up speed as I hid. Now, I was at the third pole, my back tensed pressing into its firm structure. I heard footsteps. They were closing in. I listened closely, keenly, for the pairs of footsteps that began to approach me. Only one. One pair.
