“Strip to your boxers, all of you. Once you show my camera you’re not stashing anything in your clothes or on your body, I’ll unlock the door.”
August grunted. The last thing we wanted to do was take our clothes off, but we had planned for a scenario where we weren’t allowed to have weapons inside the building.
“Fine,” he spat out.
“I’m waiting…” Anderson drawled.
Quickly, all five of us took off our black tactical jackets, pants, and shirts.
The cold air bit at my skin, but I refused to shiver or show any kind of weakness as I stared down the camera.
I was bloodthirsty, and I wanted Anderson to know it.
Of course we were armed.
Each time we revealed one of our hidden weapons, we threw it into an ever-growing pile on the grass, a good six feet away from the door, per Anderson’s instructions.
I had a hard time letting go of my Glock, but I knew it would be all right. We had planned for this, I reminded myself. I didn’t need it right now.
I glanced at August, and I could just make out the tiny earpiece stuck into his ear. There was no way, no matter how high-definition the cameras were, that Anderson would see it before it was too late.
The five of us stood there, almost naked, in full view of the stupid camera.
Fox grimaced beside me. “It’s fucking cold,” he grumbled under his breath.
Anderson made us wait longer than he needed to, feeding the tension building inside us until it was ready to snap.
Every part of me was ready to fight…and win.
Eventually, Anderson’s voice came through the phone. “Pick up your clothes and get redressed inside.”
No sooner had he said the words than the sound of an electronic lock flipped. Again, it would’ve had to be battery powered. I glared at the factory as we gathered up our clothes, wondering how long Anderson had been planning for this. He’d had to bring his own Wi-Fi and everything.
Leaving the weapons behind, August opened the metal door, and we all slipped inside.
He didn’t let go of the door right away, but Anderson was still on the phone and snapped, “Let the door close.”
August begrudgingly obeyed, and the heavy metal slammed shut.
Then the electronic lock flipped, sealing us inside.
We immediately got dressed in the darkness, moving as fast as possible.
We were in the receiving area of the factory. The air was so thick with dust and the smell of musty oil that I almost choked on it. Every window had been boarded up and nailed shut, blocking out any trace of moonlight. The wide truck bays were sealed the same way.
“Good luck, boys,” Anderson said through the phone, his voice eerily soft.
The line went dead.
I stared at the screen and then up at my brothers, their faces only visible in the narrow beams of light from our flashlights—the only things we’d been able to bring inside with us.
“Stay close,” August warned.
I pocketed my phone, considering it was no longer useful. I didn’t think Anderson would call again.
We went forward as a unit: August at point, me behind him, and the others fanning out enough to cover angles. We moved slowly, boots trampling over debris scattered across the concrete floor as we swept the large space.
Our steps echoed in the darkness. Metal shelving sat in rows in some sections. They were mostly bare, but some of them were bent or collapsed. Rusted scraps of equipment littered the ground—old brackets, warped panels, and lengths of metal that had been left behind and forgotten. Graffiti covered parts of the walls that we could see, faded and layered over years of neglect.
