Kita tapped her black painted nail against her tablet as she flipped through a stack of greasy fingerprinted papers counting them. The tablet said she should have fifteen vehicles, but there were only twelve intake slips from her mechanic Mickey. How do you lose three vehicles?

Kita went back to the delivery manifest on her tablet. According to the driver, who had signed off on the delivery, she had delivered all the vehicles. Somewhere between the drop-off area and the mechanics shed, they'd been lost.

Kita leaned back in her chair, and her head hit the ancient faux wood paneling that made her office dark and dirty. I don't need this tonight. I want to go home and sleep. The clock on the wall said it was after ten. A pile of orders and receipts sat on her desk needing to be processed. They'll have to wait. I don't make any money if I don't have any vehicles. Kita pushed off the wall with her head and gathered up her tablet and phone.

She navigated the boxes of papers that hid the filing cabinets and shelves full of parts to the door. The lobby contained a counter that was missing pieces of the 70s style countertop, a wall of cubbyholes for parts, and a tablet attached to the counter so customers could browse her inventory. The double glass doors led to the dirt parking lot. A side door led to the yard.

After locking her office, Kita left via the side door. An overhead cover protected several benches where customers could clean up the parts they pulled. She went around the corner, unlocked an electrical box, and flipped a switch. Two dozen lights lit revealing the rows of vehicles.

Kita walked down the central row. One side was all motorcycles. They made her most of her money. The rest of the yard was cars, SUVs, and light trucks. She specialized in older vehicles. Over half her inventory was built before she was born.

She kept her eyes open for her missing Indian motorcycle. Maybe Ralph thought the vehicles were finished and put them on the line. I hope not. I'll be here all night looking. She reached the end of the motorcycle line without finding her missing motorcycle. As she walked, she looked for a Dodge ambulance, which should be easy to spot, and a VW bug.

At the mechanic's shed, Kita didn't see her missing vehicles. She checked Mickey's desk to see if the slips were there, but all she found were fast food wrappers, soda cans, and muscle car magazines. Kita picked up one of the magazines. The girl's hot. Sigh. Like I'll ever have time for that.

Not seeing the vehicles, Kita resigned herself to her fate of having to walk the yard. Someone is getting an ass chewing in the morning. She just hadn't decided who.

As she walked along the back fence, a light shown over the fence and through the slating in the chain link. By the Crushing Depths, now what? Kita jumped on the hood of a car so she could look over the fence. A light was moving back and forth in the old auto parts plant next door. I don't have time for kids wanting to explore. She owned the plant. The goal was to someday expand her parts business into it. I can't have kids in there. If they get hurt, their parents will sue.

Kita jumped off the car and hurried to the back gate. She undid the lock and pulled the gate open. There wasn't much space between the plant and the fence, maybe twelve feet. The asphalt was cracked, crumbling, and weedy. The light had been in the parts loading area, but the door to the plant was in the opposite direction.

She reached the door and after fighting with the lock, was able to open the door. An old hallway with faded linoleum tiles led into darkness. Kita pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight scaring a rat. Perfect.

Kita knew the layout of the plant well. She had played inside it plenty growing up. The hallway ended at a set of double doors that led to the manufacturing floor. The old machinery sat frozen in time. Before she was born this place turned out parts for Ford twenty-four seven.

Following a roller belt, Kita passed the packaging and boxing machine. Kita kicked a piece of pipe, and the clank echoed through the room. Dammit. The roller belt ended at the stacker, where the boxes were loaded onto pallets and made ready for transport. She pushed through the doors to the loading area.

The area was dark.

"Hello?" Kita called. "Come on out. I know you're in here."

She was met with silence.

"There's only one way out, and I'm standing in front of it. Don't make me call the cops."

Kita waited for a response. "Fine, but if you get hurt, I'll prosecute you for trespassing."

Annoyed, Kita followed a wall to an electrical box, opened it, and flipped the switch. The lights for the loading area came on with a thunk.

How in the Crushing Depths did you get in here? Kita's missing ambulance and VW bug were parked on the other side of the room near the big double bay doors. She approached them cautiously, ready for someone to jump out and yell surprise. Or worse, they're the worst car thieves of all time and have a gun.

The white and orange paint job of the ambulance was faded, and rust had eaten away at the rear doors. The license plate said RATCHET. That's odd for a service vehicle to have a vanity plate. Walking along the side, the tires looked brand new, but the rest looked like the back.

Next to the ambulance, the VW bug made it look brand new. The paint job was more rust than the faded yellow paint. Rust had even gotten to the chrome, but the tires were brand new. Who puts new tires on vehicles going to the scrap yard? I better not have gotten charged for them. The license plate said BUMBLBE. The windows were covered in a layer of dirt making it hard to see inside.

It would be nice to have you. Some time with the grinder, a new paint job, a couple of replacement parts and you'd be good as new. I can see me cruising down the coast now. Sigh. Like I could afford that. I couldn't afford it in the condition it's in now. But, I'll have Mickey salvage the tires. Those will fetch a good price.

Kita walked to the front and found the Indian motorcycle. It was white or had been, now it dull white and rust. The front fender was missing, the leather seat was split, the headlight cracked, and all the chrome was dull and rusty.

"Damn, you're beautiful," said Kita. The curves of the motorcycle looked like a girl on all fours sticking her perfect butt out. The license plate read ARCEE. She dragged her hand over the rear fender, seat, and gas tank. Dad would have loved to have had you. Kita loved motorcycles, and she recognized a sexy piece of machinery when she saw it, but her true love was for racing bikes.

So, are you my missing vehicles or not? I guess I should check the VIN numbers. Kita tapped on her tablet and found the delivery manifest. Each vehicle had a Vehicle Identification Number on it somewhere.

Kita looked up on her tablet the location of each number. She started with the Indian. The plate was mounted left of the steering head. She opened the ambulance's driver side door. The inside of the ambulance was in worse shape than the outside. The vinyl was cracked and dirty. The seats were torn. There was no carpeting and rust had eaten through the floorboards. Kita found the VIN plate on the back of the door.

Kita opened the VW bug's door and let out a sigh. So much for that dream. The interior was a mess. The seats were dry rotted, the floorboards rusted through, the carpeting had large holes, and the dash was cracked and missing foam. She located the VIN plate on the dash.

"The good news is," Kita announced to the vehicles, "you are my missing three. I really wish I knew how you got here because now I have to get you out."

In the morning, she and Mickey would have to bring the flatbed over and using the towing cable, load the vehicles. After setting her tablet on the seat of the Indian, Kita went to the double bay doors. Each door was fifteen feet long and heavy. It didn't help the track was probably fouled with gunk, but somebody opened those doors to get the vehicles inside, and the doors were supposed to be chained shut.

There was a side door to the right of the bay doors. Kita went out it onto the loading dock. The dock wasn't very wide, maybe eight feet. The concrete access in front of the dock sloped down so the trailers beds would be even with the dock. A ramp with a rusty handrail went up the right side toward the street.

Kita pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight. She went to the center of the bay doors. On the ground were the lock and chain. She picked them up. They didn't cut the lock or the chain, but the chain link looks like it was pulled apart. What in the Crushing Depths does that?

Kita stood up and looked around suspiciously. She suddenly felt like she was being watched. Maybe I should get out of here and come back in the morning. Except, I need my tablet.

She went back to the side door, pulled on the handle, and found it locked. Kita didn't have a key to the door. Do I make the long walk around and back through the creepy plant or do I muscle these doors open? As creepy as I feel, definitely the doors.

Kita went back to the center of the bay doors. She worked her fingers between them and pulled, while at the same time putting her foot on the opposite door and pushing. The doors didn't budge. Kita braced herself and tried harder. The doors gave eight inches causing Kita to lose her balance and fall.

Of course, I can't do it without being a super klutz.

She picked herself up and walked back to the Indian and her tablet. Should I leave them here? What if something happens to them? To be safe, Kita took some pictures of the vehicles and the loading area. Just in case, I have to explain this to the cops...or worse, my insurance.

Satisfied she'd done all she could, Kita went to the back of the loading area and turned off the lights. Turning the flashlight on her phone on, she walked by the vehicles to the bay doors.

A blue and red light flashed through the gap in the bay doors. It's rare the cops come out here. But the blue and red lights didn't leave but grew more intense.

"I didn't call the cops, I swear," Kita said to the vehicles. "Someone probably saw the light and reported it. Just what I want to do, explain to some cop what I'm doing in my own building."

Kita hurried out the side door. Let's hope I don't get shot. She waved her arms at the cruiser. It crept closer and didn't turn off its lights. It came to a stop at the foot of the loading dock. Kita could see the officer, but he was looking straight ahead. That's odd. The car is a mustang. I thought all cruisers were chargers.

The cruisers passenger side door opened. Kita didn't see anyone in the passenger's seat. She moved across the dock to talk to whoever got out. She didn't find a person, and the driver hadn't moved, but there was a small boombox in the passenger's seat.

Does the radio not work in the car? The boombox exploded. Pieces extended and lifted. Three long, spindly legs grew out the bottom. Arms grew out the sides. The speakers lifted up and formed eyes, while the CD lid opened showing rows of sharp teeth.

The boombox sprang from the car, jumped onto the loading dock, and charged Kita. She screamed and backed away, hitting the bay doors causing her to drop her tablet. Kita scrambled through the double doors, trying to twist through as fast as possible. She fell into the loading area. Terrified, she crawled toward the Indian.

The boombox made an unintelligible noise as it squeezed through the bay doors. Kita reached the Indian as the boombox grabbed her foot causing her to roll over.

"No! Get off," Kita cried while kicking wildly with her foot.

Her head banged against the Indian as flailed her foot. Kita fell on her back, staring at the darkened ceiling. In the flashing red and blue light, she saw tall, slender humanoid silhouette. The silhouette raised an arm and a flash of light blinded Kita. The boombox went flying across the room. The silhouette disappeared into the darkness.

Out of the darkness, a pair of arms lifted Kita and placed her on the Indian. Kita grabbed the handles out of habit. Something yelled in an unintelligible language. At the bay doors, a large, broad humanoid shape pulled the doors apart.

The Indian's clutch went down under Kita's foot and throttle twisted in Kita's hand. Spooked, Kita removed her hands. The Indian's tires squealed as it shot forward much faster than Kita had expected. She wrapped her arms around the gas tank to hold on. The Indian raced through the bay doors and launched over the police cruiser. It landed in a shower of sparks on the concrete, sped up the loading dock access, and made a hard left onto the side street.

The Indian didn't stop as it made a fast right turn on to the highway. By the Crushing Depths! What is going on? What motorcycle drives itself? Is it remote control by those things in the loading area? Autonomous? Did I get someone's experiment that has a serious bug? Or just simply possessed and I need to wake up. I don't want anything to do with this. We're not going that fast.

Kita let go of her death hug of the gas tank and sat up. The force of the wind nearly knocked her off the back of the motorcycle. Tuck and roll. I've got this. I just have to roll off the side. Kita threw herself off the motorcycle toward the road's shoulder, which looked to be a soft combination of dirt and weeds.

The motorcycle came apart. A pair of arms extended and caught Kita. They lifted her back onto the seat as the motorcycle reformed.

Bloody moons! It is possessed. Kita hung onto the tank. What am I going to do? A set of flashing lights came up behind her. Kita turned her head to see if it was the police cruiser. Save me! Instead, it was the ambulance. It had a driver, but he had the same blank look that the police officer had.

The Indian hugged the shoulder as the ambulance raced past over the centerline. The VW bug roared up on the Indian. The driver had the same blank look as the others. Through the windows of the VW bug, Kita could see the red and blue flashing lights of the police cruiser. The Indian throttled up and shot forward. The VW bug matched speeds and the two vehicles caught up to the ambulance.

The desert nightscape raced by. Kita looked up. The lights of the city glowed brightly. The Indian crossed the railroad tracks that ran along the edge of the city. The bump caused Kita to fly out of her seat. She scrambled to hold on as the three-car convoy entered a light industrial district.

Here the streets were narrow and full of potholes from all the heavy semi traffic. The ambulance made a hard right down a street lined with warehouses. As they passed another street, the VW bug turned left. Two hundred yards back, Kita could see the police cruiser. The Indian throttled down hard and took a right, swerving around a series of giant potholes. The street had several metal buildings with yards encircled by chain link fence. The Indian turned down an alley between two buildings and pulled over in between two dumpsters.

The Indian expanded under Kita. The arms lifted her up as the rest transformed into a slender and graceful eight-foot-tall robot. The Indian set Kita down in the corner of a dumpster and fence, then its left hand changed into a double-barreled cannon. Kita cowered in the corner. The Indian stuck its head down close to Kita.

"Please, don't be scared," said the Indian. "I am Arcee, and I will protect you."

Want the newest and freshest Kita stories? Follow me on Patreon and for only a few bucks a month get new stories and read what happens next in the New Angel Saga!

https://www.patreon.com/FallenAngelKita

Want a free story? Go to www.FallenAngelKita.com and enter your email and I'll send you the story Girl on Fire. There's no other way to get it.