But first I'd test the guards, fuck around with 'em, just to see their mettle.

The main entrance was a chain link fence topped with barbed wire on automatic scrollers with a little checkpoint booth on the other side. Two of them guarded the front, wilting there under the hot sun. The end of their shift, I judged it.

I walked straight up to the taller of the two and slapped him on the back of the shoulder.

"Watch where you put your hand, tough guy," he said. He had seen my trench coat.

"Tough enough to cry, I guess," I answered, and a single tear left its trail down my cheek.