Deadly Quest

Shaking off the cold, I walked up to the gate and looked around, peering through the web of cyclone fencing that encircled the warehouse. Looking up, I noticed circular strands of barbed wire attached on top of the cyclone fencing which also surrounded the entire warehouse. The place appeared to be deserted with no sign of life except for a lone, powerful outside spotlight beaming high above the massive aluminum-framed building. There were a few vehicles parked inside the fencing, all the way over to the other side of the lot. I noticed the tan Toyota Tacoma. That was Bob’s truck. I thought for sure, because of the closed gate, Bob would be out here to meet me, but he was nowhere to be seen. I buried my hands deep in my pockets, rocking on my arches, impatiently waiting at the gate for him to come out of the warehouse. I know I had only arrived a few minutes ago but the absence of Bob was starting to make me feel a little uneasy. It made me uncomfortable just standing out there. Waiting was wasting time. After all, Bob did seem to be a bit pressing over the phone, as well as mysterious, about wanting to speak with me. Why could he not tell me over the phone? What was all the drama about? All that I could think about was the strange avoidance of direct answers when I had pressed him for specific information. He simply ignored me. When I demanded he tell me what was up, his tone became indignant, yelling over the phone, “Just get out here!” That was not Bob’s nature. Something was wrong.