NOTUM: Study Of A Nightwalker ✔️

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"Helga, are we ready to go evaluate the factory?" Neil asked, poking his head through the door frame and wiping a bead of sweat off his brow. He had played fetch with the dog and the ball used had been decimated in the process.

Thankfully, it got the dog tired enough to take a nap, allowing him to pat it one more time and sneak away.

The two of their heads turned simultaneously, each having a calm and tired expression. The driver had his gaze fixed on the room where the talks were going on, and the arguing voices clearly weren't a good sign."They won't be coming anytime soon," said the driver, rubbing the cover of his phone with his thumb.

Helga stifled a yawn. "It's about time we saw the factory. I think I just saw a spider there, and if it were any bigger, I would've called the animal control."

Firenze gently added, eyes shining and hands fiddling with a folder he had in his hand,"It is an old farmhouse, Ms Koch, spiders are no surprise. I hate it in here too."

He looked at her hopefully, hands still arranging the maps and documents. Occasionally, Mr. Benetto's palm would reach out and would return with a piece of paper. Helga had looked borderline happy for a second, before she regressed back to stoicness. She tossed back her hair, stood up and walked into the room.

A moment later, her sweet voice chimed a 'Thank you' and she walked out, fanning herself with a file."He said yes. Chop chop, now," She said.

As they walked to the door, their feet crushed a local newspaper lying on the floor, which had a picture on its front page; that of an old factory on the edge of a dry field.

•°*°•

Police sirens were blaring when the team had reached the facility. The huge factory gates were thrown open, the space before it was covered by parked police cars, fire engines and ambulances. Neil covered his ears when he heard gunshots being fired at something.

A senior officer was barking orders to two paramedics when he approached him.

"What's going on, officer?"

The officer replied with a hoarse voice,

"This is a restricted area for civilians. Leave immediately!"

Cops and medics ran around, khaki, white, red and blue merging, sirens and commands turning into a myriad of noise. The crowd pushed and pulled around the cop and the team, curious citizens almost stampeding over each other.

Firenze pulled out a paper from a file he was carrying, and handed it to the officer. He waited, observing every twitch of the man's face for a sign of approval. By the time the cop had finished reading, the firing squads had returned and were leaving, and the commotion slowly began to fade away.

They saw the factory workers standing nearby being questioned, all that the police got as answers were agitated gestures and negative head shakes. Helga pointed out that the workers looked more irritated than frightened.

When the officer was done checking the paper, he called a constable nearby who was questioning a worker. The worker walked away grumbling something about the government and the military. The constable was instructed to accompany the trio through the factory and get them out by six pm.

It was easier said than done. With the sun beating down through the oppressive cloud layer, the mob that had gathered outside had taken up the job of prying out answers from the authorities.

A man roared, "What is going on?! Why aren't you telling us anything?!"

Another one asked, his fist punching the air, "It's our right to know what is going on in this place. How much longer are you going to keep us in the dark about the terrorists!"