Call for Obstruction (The Courier #1)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 10 (v.2) - Where's Vern

Submitted: July 02, 2009

Reads: 217

Comments: 1

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Submitted: July 02, 2009

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At the Trinidad warehouse, the garage is empty. Vern and I should be the last to arrive, but the other drivers should still be here?

While I get out of the van, Oscar approaches wearing dirty coveralls and a scowl. “How did you get here so quickly?” He limps around by the back door and examines the exterior.

I shrug my shoulders. “The drive was quiet except for the occasional semi truck nearly running me off the road.”

Margery enters the garage and joins the inquisition. “That’s the only problem you had getting here?” She disappears around the other side of the van.

I call out, “Where are the other drivers?”

At the front end, Margery reappears with one eyebrow raised. “I was just about to ask you that.” She kicks the grill. “You didn’t pass any wreckage?”

“Wreckage?” A chill runs up my spine as I join her at the bumper. “What’s going on?”

No one answers, but Oscar asks, “Did you see Vern?”

“I told you, I didn’t see anyone from OTG.”

“Don’t worry about Vern,” Margery says. “He can take care of himself.” She rocks the van like a couple of teenagers are going at it in the back, then turns to Oscar and says, “Van’s safe to unload.”

“Of course it’s okay.” Then I go at them once more. “What’s going on? Where are the other drivers?”

Again, no one answers, but why would they bother to fill in the idiot new guy?

Oscar points outside the garage door. “Vern is here.”

“Told you. Nothing stops him.” Margery stares at the van as it screeches to a halt, half inside, half outside the garage.

Vern jumps out and slams the door. “Where’s Marge?”

“Get your eyes checked.” She grins and crosses her arms. “I’m right here.”

“Wasn’t the nose enough, you old crow?” Vern wriggles where he stands, his blood-crusted shirt half unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up. He scratches at bright red pustules that cover his exposed skin.

“Old crow. Apparently you need to lose a few more layers of flesh to learn to keep your mouth shut.” Margery turns to me and asks, “Or should I tie his tongue in a knot? What do you think?”

I touch my chest and feel a residual burn from pissing her off earlier. A reminder to keep my mouth shut.

“Leave the kid out of this.” Vern’s focus abruptly shifts from his wounds to the empty garage. “Where is everyone?”

“They’re all missing except for you and him.” She nods her head my direction.

“Oh hell.” Vern rushes toward Margery. “You don’t think—”

“Of course I’ve thought of that,” she snarls, “but the white warriors haven’t taken more than two drivers at a time since that one time back in the early nineties.”

My glasses slide down my nose from the sweat forming on my brow. Now I’m really curious, not to mention worried. Why did I get left behind? I step forward, bump Oscar, and raise my voice. “What’s going on? Why didn’t they take me?”

All three simultaneously turn to me, each with a deep frown.

I grin and slouch my shoulders, feeling as if I’ve jumped into a snake pit.

Margery rubs her temples and rushes toward the overhead garage door. “I’ve got to get new vans and drivers by morning. Eat lunch and get back on the road.”

“Hey,” I call out. “You can’t leave.”

Vern punches my arm. “Shut up.” Then he points at his pustules. “Unless you want some of these.


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