“Got pulled into a check,” I reply.
He exhales through his nose, shifting his grip on his weapon.
“Yeah, seems like everyone’s getting pulled into something today.”
I glance at him briefly, then back to the fence.
“Restrictions hit you too?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “Extra sweeps, tighter clearance. Command’s on edge.”
“Any reason given?”
He shakes his head.
“Not one they’re saying out loud.”
Of course not.
I turn my attention forward, letting the routine take over as I scan the fence line, tracking movement patterns, spacing, timing. Everything looks normal on the surface, but the rhythm underneath it has shifted, and I feel it more than I see it.
“You’re distracted,” the guard says.
I keep my eyes forward.
“I’m thinking,” I reply.
“About what?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
He lets that go, shifting his weight slightly.
Silence settles between us, broken only by the low hum of the barrier and the distant movement of patrol units along the line. I force my focus into the routine, tracking each movement with precision, but my mind keeps pulling back to the same point.
Where she is.
What she is doing.
How long before?—
I cut the thought off as I shift my stance slightly.
“You don’t get to go there,” I mutter under my breath.
“What?” the guard asks, glancing at me.
“Nothing,” I say, sharper this time.
He raises his hands slightly in a dismissive gesture and looks away.
I refocus on the fence, but the pattern morphs again, small but noticeable, and I track the change automatically. Patrol units compress their spacing by a fraction, and the timing between passes shortens just enough to eliminate the gaps that used to exist.
“They’re closing it,” I think.
Which means?—
There are no blind spots left.
