Deep Secrets, Deviants

Chapter 5

Chelsea

The night air nips at my cheeks, my breath comes out in clouds of puff. The stars are the only thing that lights my way through the sage brushes. The breeze picks up my hair, causing it to brush across my cheek. Paradise Falls is truly a different town come twelve o'clock at night. Silhouettes of buildings, homes, warehouses loom all around me, but only one has my sights.

While the houses behind me light their porches, keeping unwanted guests away, the old museum has only one light coming from it. As I get closer the voices of the pawns of Greater Good call orders out into the night. Approaching the museum at an angle so that the inside of the garage can be seen, I lay on the dirt before the light falls upon me. Two trucks are parked in front of each garage door, being loaded and unloaded.

Without breaking a stride, I pull my rifle from my shoulder and hold it in front of me, gazing through the scope, adjusting the range. One after another of druggies, bums, sad cases walk back and forth, carrying large black cases- cases that I recognize immediately, as they are I.O.E.'s top choice in shipping containers- and smaller buckets of...

I take my eye from the scope and stare at the trucks, still a ways away.

"Ice cream, huh?" I whisper to myself. That's new. I look back into the scope right as a new, annoyed voice can be heard over the others. I turn the scope to gaze farther into the garage searching for the owner to the commanding voice.

A man, about the age of twenty-three or four, hazel eyes and brown hair with a tint of red, walks towards the vehicles, yelling at everyone there. His three constant companions play follow the leader behind him, keeping their eyes on his back, all of them glaring with mistrust. What is up with these people?

Even my target looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but there. His deep voice is loud enough that I can make out what he says if I concentrate.

"What the hell are you guys doing? Do you plan on staying here all damn night?" Another man walks up to my target with his arms out to his sides, raising his voice as he replies, but I'm too far away to make out what he says. My target begins giving orders, his bodyguards standing aside, watching. Eventually my target has the entire crowd moving with more accuracy and time saving by having each person stand in one place while the shipment is being passed from person to person. I have to admit he does have a nice technique; too bad it's being wasted away.

He watches, seeming much more enthused, but still obviously wishes he was somewhere on a beach with no worries. Why is he involved when he so clearly doesn't enjoy it? Wouldn't thinking of the big bucks he'll get put a smile on his face? But no. He is as ornery as ever, even when he shoves his bodyguards towards the line of men- not at all nicely- and makes them help. They seem like the only one's brave enough to glare at him, but they obey, though they keep their eyes glued on him. Why so?

Still at a lost as to what is being slipped to them- as it is no doubt a mole given Jedidiah's theory was proven true- I get in a stance, preparing to make my way into the museum, when I see someone step into the ice cream truck to start the engine up. I wait, watching the truck until I hear the voice of my target shouting again. I quickly take my rifle from my shoulder again and gaze into the scope to see what he's fussing about now.

"Oh..." I whisper, watching my target hitting someone over the head for dropping an ice cream bucket. I search on the floor until I find the split contents of the bucket. It rolls farther into the garage but not before I get the unmistakable glimpse of silver tubes clanging onto the ground. The sight doesn't completely rule out the possibility of drugs, but I'm suddenly a little more interested in the ice cream buckets.