The rain could be heard outside the fogged over van window. It's gentle patter was doing it's best to lul the defiant occupent of the vehical to sleep as he fiddled with the radio. it would be dusk soon, the man thought. i can sleep after we close. Almost on que, there was a buzz from the man's phone. The Sargent was checking on him again. Sarg was an old hat when it came to security, a vet of the Veitnom war with the looks of good old Saint Nick. The conversation was breif, the plesentries lasted longer. "Your sure you're good for the night shift? If you need to, set an alarm." The words blew past the man like water off a duck's back, till he heard his name called by his handler, the Sargent. "Jack, can you hear me? I think your cutting out." Brought out of his glazed fog, Jack glanced around the cab of his van and mumbled back, "I hear you sir, I think i can handle it from here. Try to get some rest ill see you in the morn...(cough) the words caught in jack's throut as he laid eyes on the passenger side window. Writen in the condensation from the rain were the words, "Hi, Jack". Jack absentmindedly hung up the phone, and inched closer to the befudling markings on the window. When Jack relised it was writen from the inside he stepped out of the van into the rain under the early dusk sky and checked around for shenanigans. Nothing but him and the tombstones....
Based on a true story. No my name's not Jack.
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