by Eric Luthi

The guard opened the door and held it open.  The next man, carrying a desert green rucksack, stepped through the door and held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun.  After a moment’s pause, he moved forward.  A second guard came through the door but did not follow the man with the rucksack.

            “You take care now, Mr. Rood,” said the first guard.

            “Thank you.”

            “You behave yourself,” said the second.

            “I will.”

            Josh walked across the concrete yard and stopped at the metal gate thirty feet wide and fifteen feet high.  On steel wheels and a track, it was set into the wall that surrounded the yard.  Josh waited.  The guards behind him shifted from one foot to the other.

            “I guess they changed their minds,” said one.

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