THE CHANGE - CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

PART ELEVEN - CHARLIE'S RAID / INSECURITY GUARDS

PART ELEVEN

CHARLIE’S RAID

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 19TH

MALIBU, CA

THIRTY-SEVEN

The closer I got to the back of the building, the more aware I became of the muffled sounds from within. I couldn’t tell what they were. But they didn’t sound good.

I remembered what Zachariah had told me: like, he’s Himmler, and she’s Leatherface. It had felt like a pretty good zinger at the time. But all those yurts full of cucks remained cucks for a reason. And the only good reason was terror.

Now the muffled sounds were getting clearer. One appeared to be yelling, with very crisp diction. The other sounded more like an animal roar.

That said, there didn’t seem to be much cause-and-effect or call-and-response between them. Like, the roaring wasn’t provoking the yelling, or vice-versa. More like two different TVs, blasting two different channels at the same fucking time.

I wondered what kind of soundproofing they had.

I wondered how much of the sound I was missing.

This close to the building, surveillance cameras were everywhere, and I was just about out of cover. From this point on, it would have to be all about speed, ferocity, and whatever remaining element of surprise I could sustain over the next sixty seconds.

The only way in was around the front, which would mean racing along the side, then another fifteen feet to the right and the door. The only good news? They tended not to lock that door, because they rarely got unwanted visitors. One of the perks of making everyone else live in fear.

I asked myself, am I afraid?

And the honest answer was yes.

Then I asked myself, am I gonna let that stop me?

And the answer was now or never.