Inachevé

Twenty-two - Conveyor

A cold steel table stood under a pale fluorescent light.  Cement plated all four walls, leaving no room for warmth and comfort. The only light that came through was from the window installed on the back wall. Curtained with barbed-wire and decorated with cob-webs, the window was the only attraction in the room. Stiff breezes seeped through the cracks and window, but seldom went beyond the room’s door. The only time the room was opened was when a task was needed to be dealt.  And on a warm summer morning, such an occasion took place.

 The light flickered and twitched as its door was shook open. Plaster crumbled, dust stirred, and hinges squeaked as the door opened in jerking motions. At last, with one lurch from the being behind, the door burst open and a man dressed in a black suit walked in. With yellow dust powdering around his body, he straightened his jacket and flicked the dust off his shoulders. He entered the room and placed a battered folder onto the table. In fondness, he passed a hand over it before leaving the room and shutting the door.

 When at last the dust and debris settled and there was a moment for the air to breath, a deep growl of stone against stone echoed in the room, disturbing the quietness again. To the left side, in perfect rectangular form, a door was pushed out of the wall. From behind the surreptitious egress, another figure came out from behind and retrieved the folder.  This time, it was a woman. She was dressed in black garments and her hair was purposely trimmed to hide her profile. She tucked the folder under her arm and vanished behind the door, which was pulled shut immediately after her.

The girl clipped down a long foyer that led her into a room filled with ten people. Large automatic weapons hung from the walls and large metal cases tiled the floor. Some of the cases were empty while others were packed with explosives and other lethal instruments. Four men guarded the two windows, two guarded the main entrance, and the rest were scattered around the room in their designated stations. The girl stepped over the equipment and swerved past passing comrades before reaching her destination.

 “Sir,” the girl said in her crisp, robotic voice. She whipped out the folder and handed it to the person in front of her.

 A bald-headed man, suited with a heavyweight vest and cargo pants, grabbed the folder and dropped it on his desk. As he studied the folder, he took a long drag from his cigarette before snuffing it out under his combat boot. He opened the folder, releasing a cloud of fine dust.

 “We are positive those are the ones who’ll be arriving at 3:00PM.”

The man looked up at the girl and then back down at the folder. He sighed loudly and opened it up. Sifting through several pages carelessly, he blew through loose lips, and looked up at the girl. In a rough, scratchy voice, he spoke in satisfaction. “These are our guinea pigs.” He erupted into a rumbling chuckle and with the flick of his wrist; he smacked the folder with the back of his hand. “Look at these beautiful faces, oh, today is the day.” He leaned back in his chair and passed a hand over the top of his head.  Laughing again at his good fortune, he announced to his pose, “We’re rolling out tomorrow, ladies and gents!”

 “Sir, I have researched every person in that folder, I’m just a little wary about some of their profiles. Their backgrounds could alter this operation,” the girl added nervously.

 “Jennifer, your job is over. You don’t have to worry about it. If anything is to go out of control, it’s in our hands now, not yours. Go, get a drink and relax, you deserve it!”

Jennifer bowed from the neck and retreated from the room.  The man watched her go before motioning one of his men to shut the door.  Once done, the man laid out seven sheets of paper with the print facing away from him.  He knocked on the top of his table loud enough to get his men’s attention.

“Study these faces, gents. Study them good. We’re heading out within the hour.”

Each man lined up behind the other and observed the documents carefully. One by one, the photos that were lit up by young, intelligent faces were combed thoroughly by the eyes of their murderers.