"Damn kids again."
Wilson, groaned, looked up from his portable TV and checked his watch. They just wouldn't give it a rest. Every damn shift for the past damn week, he'd had his 'late night viewing' disturbed by the fact that the kids in this dead end town just had nothing better to do than clatter around his yard. At least it wasn't just him they were baiting for sport; Booth had reported the same on his two shifts earlier in the week. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but he'd been rattled by it. The younger guys always were. Wilson gave a knowing sniff; in his twenty-eight years working the dock, Wilson had never failed to catch the little bastards that were screwing around. Lord only knew what they were hitting the units with to make that noise. Sighing, knowing that they were probably just baiting him for sport, Wilson trudged his way out of the security cabin, knowing full well that he couldn't leave them running riot. Damned if he was gonna be held responsible for the forklifts getting damaged.
He clicked the cabin door closed behind him, seriously considering whether the situation warranted his gun. He liked to think that he still had an air of menace about him that meant even now in his early fifties, he didn't need to resort to weapons. Normally kids could be convinced to clear off with a few well placed words, having put the fear of God into them that they'd end up with a juvenile record for something as simple as trespass or vandalism. Still, something nagged at Wilson that he couldn't put his finger on; something a little bit more than the fact that kids nowadays didn't seem to be too worried about being punished by the Lord Almighty. These kids had plagued the security guards for days, but so far nobody had managed to get a hold of them, hell, not even managed to catch a glimpse of them to give a description. Well, they weren't getting away from Wilson tonight, he thought, puffing out his chest with an air of misguided resolve. The cold wind picked up slightly as he heard the banging sounds reverberating off the huge metal boxes, the echoes becoming deafening as he got closer to the source. There must be at least five, ten of them to be making so much racket. Wilson felt for his gun, raising it ready to shoot, but knowing he probably wouldn't. He felt a shiver creep up his spine as he rounded a stacked-high corner, prepared to come face to face with a gathering of teen delinquents.
He barely had time to inhale as the piercing scream tore from his lungs, echoing up and down the containers and around the lifting equipment. He dropped to his knees with a thud, his eyes frozen in a glassy, terrified stare.