Flora Bloom watched as the soldiers bustled in and out, carrying sacks of flour and grain. They were so engrossed in their work that they seemed to have forgotten the constant danger surrounding their expedition.
She walked into a flour processing room, where large bags of flour sat at the end of each milling machine. The smaller ones weighed fifty pounds, and the larger ones a full hundred.
The flour here looked scattered about, but if gathered together, it would be enough to fill an entire truck.
And there were five more processing rooms just like this one. Their two trucks wouldn't be able to hold it all.
Flora Bloom glanced at Neal Wallace and Ethan Monroe, signaling for them to stay here. They were to help the soldiers load the trucks and stay vigilant for any sudden developments.
She, on the other hand, headed deeper into the factory by herself.
'A factory this big must have a warehouse. This flour out here is just the scraps.'
