Last time I introduced a mysterious character that Shayla was hunting, just because I liked the description. This time I thought I’d backpedal a few pages and show Shayla, working undercover, on his trail.
Shayla wheeled the trike into a gap at the side of the road, lined up with a half dozen assorted work vehicles, and dismounted. It was still early for lunch, but her stomach growled in protest. Stretching cramped limbs, she climbed steps up to the canteen and pushed through swing doors into the darkened shed.
Suffocating mugginess engulfed her after the cold crisp outdoors. A heady blend of spice and charcoal washed her nostrils setting her stomach gurgling again.
Rows of mess tables stretched into the distance. The only natural light came from windows behind her overlooking the street. Elsewhere, yellow ceiling lights served only to enhance the shadows at the edge of Shayla’s vision. Small huddles of early diners covertly regarded her as she made her way towards the serving counter near the far end of the room. The nape of her neck prickled.