Through the hole in the old parking lot, we could smell the sea and hear the cry of gulls. We hoped it was only seabirds but the rusty stains all around the pit left a lingering iron tang to the air that no manager could ever pass off as spilled paint, much as they try and they do it with all the fervor of a zealot.
The hole in the old parking lot is just a smallish sinkhole according to them. If you smell the sea or hear the gulls then you're clearly sniffing something or making it up because it's just a sinkhole. They tried to cover it in tarpaulin once, minimise and contain it was their plan. They only made things worse.
As anyone who's served under a manager before will tell you - never let them interfere beyond their limited scope of normality. Let them deal with angry customers and odd requests from HQ but don't let them remove the talismans beneath the tills or cover up the hole in the parking lot.
We lost eighteen cats and three children to it over the span of three days. Each had one eye placed delicately and deliberately around the hole, all gazing down at it like it held all the answers in the universe and for all we know, it could. A normal officer would bag them as evidence and seal the area off to investigate.
Our officers knew better and left the eyes there til they rotted, praying to nameless deities that it would be enough to undo the insult invoked by the tarp. For a few weeks it seemed to have worked - the air smelled like the sea again and screeching gulls pierced our ear drums and everything felt like it was okay again.
Today is different though.
Today the hole has moved.
Today the hole is inside the store and the air smells like death.
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