Cold Coffee

The coffee was cold. Jerry hated cold coffee. She guessed it was finally time to replace that broken thermos. These stupid paper cups from the staff room were crap, and barely held enough of the java to keep her awake half a shift. Suddenly she was swearing loudly and at length as her jeep crested the hill. The gate to the paddock was off its hinges. Another thief in the night, or something worse, only time would tell. She pulled to a stop partially blocking the gaping hole and grabbed the radio.

“Central, this is Jerry over in Sector 3. The raptor is likely gone again.”

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