Wednesday dawned, heavy on the Horizon.
A stench hung in the air that day, and no one was sure where it came from. It was a greasy smell which blanketed the campus and trickled into everything it touched, including air that was so cold and dry that breathing resulted in a sickly burning sensation. Every so often, cold winds blew apart the low-hanging clouds whose silver-gray lining smothered the sun, and brought out the few hesitant rays of sunlight that luke-warmed the cement. The sun occasionally peered though holes in the cloud-blanket, casting airy strokes of light over the blue-brick office building--- before the blanket of steely gray cloud smothered it again. This weather did what it wanted, no matter the season. Gentry called it
He watched it unfold from the office window. Raindrops flecked the glass, and poured in through the small crack Gentry had made on the side. Outside, storm clouds multiplied to block out the remaining light. Inside, pale white florescent beamed down on his damp red hair.
Here, there was no weird weather, just unnatural lighting, and the smell of stale mints currenting through the blue-carpeted spaces through a dusty old ventilation system. The office was a severely lit den in a constant state of stuck.
Gentry often lost track of time.
He worked alongside his father, quietly widening the crack in the glass by poking the tip of a pencil in it. Neither had spoken a word since the shift had started. Occasionally there was a rustling of papers or a climper of keys, the crackle of a walkie-talkie.
Gentry sat at a table beside his father’s, elbows on the surface and head resting on one fist. His free hand poking and prodding at that tiny crack.
The rain had started to loudly tap against the glass… slowly, rhythmically. Zach was coming.