GreatCthulhu
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Registered: 01-2008
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Special Delivery
The last package was loaded up into the back of the brown Dodge Sprinter van and Bernie took a minute to examine the day’s deliveries. He took a look at the delivery schedule and shook his head – sixty-five packages to deliver. This job was definitely getting worse over the years. He turned around – and saw a young woman walking towards him. He didn’t recognise her as she smiled at him.
Her smile complemented her sunny demeanour as her blonde ponytail swung in time with her bounce-like steps. Bernie couldn’t help but notice that she seemed to have quite an athletic build under the brown coveralls. She carried a small pink rucksack in her hands and seemed to be searching inside it for something.
“Hey Bernie, Saul said I could take your shift.” She said as she approached him. Bernie scratched his head.
“Really, how long for?” he asked, confused at his supervisor’s sudden switch.
“Permanently.” The young woman said, suddenly serious.
“Wha…” Bernie barely had chance to speak as he saw her pull a silenced pistol out of her bag. The bullets slammed into his chest, knocking him backwards into the van. He struggled to get up, his mind racing and his body screaming at him in pain. As Bernie lifted his head he saw the barrel of the pistol pointing straight at his face.
“Bye bye Bernie.” She fired once more – and Bernie Kovacs was dead. She carefully placed the pistol back into the rucksack, hoisted his lifeless legs into the back of the van and slammed the doors shut.
Mike Williams was running late and he knew it. The party was in full swing downstairs and he wasn’t ready yet. The costume just didn’t fit right as he tried adjusting it – and the guests downstairs were utterly unforgiving.
“Mike,” the voice of his wife Linda came from the other side of the bedroom door. “Hurry up!”
“I’m coming,” he answered. “But I just can’t get these bloody shoes to tie up.”
“Forget about it,” She hissed. “Just get down there, otherwise the day is going to be ruined.”
“Okay, okay.” He said, cursing under his breath.
The UPS van pulled up outside the house on the quiet suburban street. She reached into the rucksack and pulled out some gloves. Easing them onto her hands and working the skin-tight leather over her flesh, she flexed her fingers. Once she was happy, she picked up the hollow package from the passenger seat and secured her pistol inside.
She ran through it in her head. Manny had been very specific. Get him to come to the door; sign for the package then shoot him in the eye. The act would send a clear message to all the others who worked for Manny – either you worked for him, or you didn’t work at all. Period.
She opened the door, got out of the van and crossed the road, cradling the package in her hands.
Mike struggled to get down the stairs – his vision impaired by his contact lenses. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the bottom. The doorbell rang.
“Aw crap!” Mike cursed. “Linda? Linda?” She probably couldn’t hear him over the cacophony coming from the living room and the back garden. He shook his head and reached for the door.
She could see the shape approaching through the frosted glass. She could feel her pulse racing as the adrenaline flowed through her system. Her right hand gripped the butt of the pistol – she could feel the cold metal through the leather gloves as it calmed her boiling blood.
The door opened.
And that point, Hannah’s world fell apart.
The figure stood there, filling the doorway. The whiteface makeup covered all his visible flesh from the neck upwards. His lips were a gaudy red and two big blooms of pink adorned his cheeks. The tip of his nose was a bulbous red lump to match the colour of his ears and hair. The costume was garish, with bright yellow ruffles around his collar and an undersized pointed hat perched on the top of his head.
Hannah felt her head start to spin and her knees buckle. She saw the large blue oversized shoes that Mike had struggled to negotiate the stairs with less than five minutes ago and she screamed, dropping her package and it’s lethal cargo.
The memories flooded back – as he took one step forward, she found herself thrown back into her childhood. Memories of a dark room and a man who abused a position of trust, of the smell of stale sweat and cigars, and the tears rolled down her face, now as they did when she was six years old. Her body became jelly as her mind retreated from the here and now into Hannah’s own personal hell.
“Linda! Linda!” Mike cried out. “Call 911! We need an ambulance!” He looked down and saw the pistol lying on his doorstep. “And you’d better get the Police too!”
The paramedics secured her to the gurney as she shook. Her face was nearly the same shade of white as the make adorning Mike’s face. He shook his head as the female detective who had called herself Hawthorne finished making her notes.
“Any idea who she is?” she asked, nodding towards the gibbering wreck being taken away with a secure escort. Mike shook his head.
“Never seen her before in my life.” Mike answered.
“Mmm,” Hawthorne answered. “You work for DeLuca construction, right?”
“Yeah, I’m an accountant for them.” Mike answered. “You don’t think this has anything to do with them do you? I mean, I’ve heard the rumours…” Hawthorne handed him a business card.
“We’ll talk in the next couple of days Mr Williams,” Hawthorne said, as she looked him up and down. “It’s called Coulrophobia you know.”
“Yeah, fear of clowns.” Mike answered as he watched the ambulance pull away.
“Well, a word to the wise from your friend Pennywise,” Hawthorne said as she made her exit. “Go inside and enjoy your son’s birthday. I’ll be in touch.”
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3/18/2008, 2:06 am
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