You must have fallen asleep, for at some point you could swear that the steady thumping of the machine changed over to the chant "death, death, death..." The realization shocks your heart into pounding loudly in your chest, and your eyes fly open as you gasp.
The first vestiges of sunlight are filtering through the filthy window of the storage room, and there is the sound of a diesel engine coming to life, the sound of a heavy trailer being towed away.
Creeping to peek out the window you see the strange machine and the lights are gone, the homeless and the handlers have dissipated. The air is hot, humid, and still.
Still, you wait for what seems like an eternity before creeping out of the window. The only evidence of the night before are some tire tracks in the grass.
Distracted by the search for confirmation that you didn't hallucinate the events, you bump into someone.
"Sorry," you say automatically, then the smell of unwashed flesh hits you. Looking, you see ragged clothes, tangled hair, calm features and vacant eyes. One of the homeless from last night.
"How may I serve you?" says the homeless man pleasantly.