Most of the employees guarded their ID’s like a swarm of angry hornets. The employees who worked for elementalists were a highly suspicious crowd, not that I blamed them with how they were treated. Norms really got the short end of the stick, since it was nearly impossible to make ends meet in a sector that wasn’t run by elementalists.
There were only eight reigning elementalist families, but they controlled everything with an iron fist. To quote good old Lord Acton, “absolute power corrupts absolutely”. The elementalists were a corrupt, power hungry group. Sometimes access to even basic necessities depended on what sector you lived in and which elementalist family had control over it. If there was a feud between the Terra family who controlled cotton production, and the Cole family who controlled electricity, then you could bet there would be a shortage of those items in their corresponding sectors. My neighborhood, however, was its own special brand of hell. It wasn’t really controlled by any of the elementalist families. The people who lived there either chose to live out of the elementalist’s jurisdiction or were forcibly moved there. Access to basic necessities in my hood was always scarce. Honestly, this whole shit show was the reason my smuggling job was necessary in the first place.
I flew directly to the roof of the plant and turned on the jammer before landing on one of the cylindrical “legs” in a dark corner, ten feet from the access door. They had four wolf shifters guarding the rooftop in pairs against possible infiltrators, one pair on each cylinder. The main building was impossible to land on with its domed roof. I pushed the air around me downwind from where I could see them patrolling, making it less likely for them to catch my scent. Still, I had to hurry if I wanted to remain undetected.
There was a small maintenance room off to the side, probably meant to be used to fix the aviation transports that landed on the flight pad. I slid inside using the ID card and winced as it beeped. If I could hear that, the werewolves definitely would. I quickly flicked on the light and removed my smuggler’s pack, storing it under one of the nearby worktables. I put on the spare pair of coveralls hanging on the back of the door and grabbed the first toolbox I could find. Turning the handle to leave, I felt it push in towards me as I pulled, causing me to stumble back. I looked up after catching my balance. In front of me stood a disgruntled, hastily clothed guard and one of his shifter companions. The wolf met my gaze and snarled at me. A sliver of fear tickled my spine.
“Bob here doesn’t like your scent,” the guard said suspiciously, his hand rested uneasily on his gun holster. “He seems to think you don’t belong here.”
I tried to make my voice sound bored and resigned, “He’s right, I don’t belong here. My shift ended four hours ago, but the compressor of one of the medical refrigerators busted and the boss is worried about losing the latest batch of meds, so they called me back in.” I moved to shove past them. “Excuse me, but I really want to get this over with so I can head home again and hit the sack.”
He grabbed my hand with the ID card and scanned it, “Mickey Salent? Isn’t that a man’s name?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice even, “my parents wanted a boy.”
“Isn’t Rupert supposed to be on shift now?” the guard continued questioning skeptically,
“Rupert’s sick,” I made up.
“No, he’s not, he’s playing cards down at Peeker’s strip joint,” the guard said, looking just about ready to tackle me to the ground.
My heart was beating in my throat. “He’s sick, you’re sick, you’re all sick bastards,” I said, thinking on the fly. “Rupert conned me into taking his shift so he could play poker with the guys and stare at naked ladies.” The guard thought for a moment, then relaxed his grip on the gun and chuckled. “That sounds like him,” he said. “Next time don’t get suckered.”
“I don’t plan to,” I muttered, and this time when I went to move passed him, he didn’t stop me.
“Get ‘er done,” he called after me, still chuckling at my expense.
“That’s what I told Rupert,” I said before heading towards the roof’s main entrance.
“What’s a pretty little thing like her doing in a job like maintenance,” I heard him ask his wolf mate as the door closed. Not a moment too soon, I thought, feeling antsy. I jogged to the main access door and swiped my ID to get inside. One level down, two more to go.
I made it to the refrigerators without any more difficulty. The plant had specific rooms designated for each type of medication, and after strolling through an x-ray machine and then getting patted down for weapons, I told security on the next floor the same fabricated story about the broken fridge. They scanned my ID and then directed me to the appropriate room. The workday was over, and the room was dark and unoccupied. I flicked on the lights, and they buzzed as they turned on. I grabbed one full tray of meds, wanting to be discreet. If I only grabbed a couple of vials, they would notice that some were missing. No one was allowed to leave half full trays at the end of a workday. That was considered lazy, and the bosses didn’t take kindly to laziness. But, if one entire tray of meds was missing, then the employees could easily wave it aside as a slight calculation error due to fatigue and they would be more likely to cover it up. I wrapped each vial as well as I could in a pack of tissues I
