Berkeley Wilson

The Enemy in Our Midst Berkeley Wilson

Swallowing the light stood a grand, ominous oak tree as the men, clad in black, slithered across the riverbank and up the steeply inclined escarpment. They didn't want to be seen, especially with the heavy gear strapped to their backs. The weight of the liquids and metal equipment they were carrying nearly sunk all four of them into the edge of the marshland bordering the riverbank. It could've been worse for them though; they were thankful that during the cool fall weather of Benson, the marsh water wasn't on the verge of freezing. They did have the tougher job, as they were assigned to the heavy gear as opposed to the other lighter laboratory equipment that the other men transported through the same area last week.