Timothy C. Hobbs's Blog, page 4
March 19, 2013
Chapter 16 – Call for Obstruction
I apologize for the late posting. I try to get these out by 6:00 A.M. but this chapter and the next required a complete re-write. –W. J. Howard
So far, Barry has signed his soul into servitude to Satan on Earth. He’s a courier, forced to transport some kind of energy substance from Denver to Trinidad, Colorado. It’s being dumped down air shafts on the Bellow’s Ranch and forming a rift between Earth and Hell. He desperately wants out of his contract, but Margery, his demon boss, has total control over Barry and the other drivers through magical cigarettes. Barry’s not giving up though. In order to find a way out of his contract, he plays the good employee and volunteers for overtime. Only the other OTG employees have gone missing—likely kidnapped by white warriors who fight for God’s angels. Margery expects Barry and senior driver Vern to step in and do all the work, leaving Barry no time to snoop around the warehouse for contract loopholes. Barry does find there are perks to being a slave to Satan: bottomless fruity loop cereal and liquor, money whenever he needs it, and immortal life with a rapid healing time. He also just found out the Gates of Hell are about to open and Margery and Vern want to stop it from happening. They prefer their lives on Earth just the way they are. They have asked Barry to help them develop and carry out a plan to close the gates.
The Courier Series is about Barry White, a twenty-something computer geek with an overbearing mother, no prospects of finding a girlfriend, and an unemployment record that’s made him pessimistic he’ll ever be happy.
In Call for Obstruction, Barry has just lost his fourth jobs in the past year due to corporate downsizing. Desperate for employment, he jumps at the first position he’s offered over the phone, driver for OTG Courier Services. Shortly after meeting his new boss, a tiny yet fiery old lady named Margery, she coerces him into signing a questionable employment contract he soon regrets.
The Courier was originally written as a twitter novel @TheCourierNovel in 2009, and the same year it won the Annual Textnovel Writing Contest. Later parts of the story are still tweeting.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W. J. Howard lives near Denver and writes horror, fantasy and sci-fi with a bit of comedy mixed in. Wendy is also the Co-op Manager for Visionary Press Cooperative, leading an innovative way to publish.
The van jerks to a stop and wakes me up. Vern’s stopped at a familiar intersection. The gas station to my right is at the last northbound exit into Colorado Springs, near the mall.
“I’m hungry,” he says when he see’s I’m awake. “My favorite pancake joint’s a few doors down.”
“You ate a couple hours ago.”
“Quick stop. Promise.” He points at the speaker, shakes his head then leans in to whisper in my ear. “I need to tell you somethin’.”
Shit! This can’t be good. Not to mention I’d rather be at home, where I might catch Nina online. Find out what she really wanted this morning. Then again, this is the perfect opportunity to drill Vern for information about the driver’s contract. Especially considering Margery objected to the information he was volunteering about the Gates of Hell back at the Trinidad warehouse.
We enter the restaurant and Vern walks past the hostess to a booth in the corner. A waitress approaches, carrying two glasses of water and a plate of pancakes and sausages. She places it all on the table then walks away without asking if I want anything.
“Gimme me the pecan syrup,” Vern says as he spreads butter across the cakes.
I’m still sliding into the booth. “That’s service . . . for you.”
“I called ahead. They take care of me.” Vern shoves a fork full of pancakes in his mouth.
Call. I pat my pants pockets in a panic even though I know they’re empty.
“What?” Vern pulls my phone out of his pocket. “You lookin’ for this?”
“My phone. What are you doing with—”
“I picked it up on my way down the hill to save your sorry ass.”
“Why didn’t you give it back to me sooner?”
Vern shrugs his shoulders and slides it across the table.
It won’t turn on. “Crap, it’s broken.”
“It’s fine. Like I said, I called ahead. Used up the rest of the juice.”
Thinking of Nina again, I say, “Damn, Vern, I might have a text or voicemail.”
“Who from? Your mommy?” Vern laughs.
I frown and put my phone in my pocket. “So what do you have to say. And hurry up.”
“Chill, kid. We got plenty of time.”
“I’d like to get some sleep before the next run.”
“Sleep? You don’t need sleep. I once drove three weeks of nonstop runs and never dozed off once.”
My eyes widen. For nearly two years I lose every one of my jobs; now I might work enough hours to make up for all the time I was laid off, plus.
Having had enough in one day of Vern wolfing down food, my eyes wander around the room. The place has a country feeling, and the walls are covered in prints of farm animals. Not sure why a restaurant would want to remind customers of the animals they’re eating.
Half way through his short stack, Vern says, “Listen, kid, like I said in the van, I got something to tell you. Something Marge doesn’t want you to know.”
I sit up straight then lean over the table and closer the Vern.
“We already have a plan to close the gates.”
“Really?” I roll my eyes and fall back in the booth. Nothing Margery or Vern says is a surprise anymore.
“I like you, kid, and I can’t let Marge lie to you. If you’re going to be in on this with us, you need to know the whole truth.” Vern pauses and pushes the remainder of his pancakes to one side. “When I tell you what we have to do to close the gate, you’re not going to like it.”
“We’re slaves to Satan. Why would I expect you to tell me something I like.”
Vern drops his fork and grins. “It’s kids.”
“Kids? What do you mean kids?”
“Just what I said. I dropped a bunch of little kids down the vent last time I closed the gate.”
All the muscles in my face melt into a scowl. “You what?”
“It’s their energy. They’re so innocent and don’t have a care in the world. You remember what it was like to be a kid, don’t you?”
I want to jump over the table and strangle the bastard, but now is not a good time to get arrested. “I don’t like where this conversation is headed.” I slide sideways in the booth, ready to leave.
“You can’t get out of this, kid.”
“Where do you get off, telling me?” I say, gritting my teeth.
“Remember the alternative,” Vern says. “You’d rather see all the kids in the world tortured and burned by demons?”
I slide back into the booth.
“It has to be done.” Vern puffs out his chest.
Sick! Vern thinks he’s some kind of hero.
The waitress approaches, drops the check in a hurry, and rushes away to avoid our stare down.
“Where are you getting the kids?” I ask.
“Thirty years ago I kidnapped the little bastards, snuck onto the Bellow’s Ranch, and dropped them into the air shafts. It took months to fill up the hole.”
“Months? Didn’t anyone figure out the hole was closing?”
“No.”
“Didn’t that seem odd to you?”
“At the time . . . No.”
“Are you sure Margery didn’t know what you were doing back then?”
“Huh. I don’t know.” He sits back, a perplexed look on his face, but combats his confusion by changing the subject. “You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to buy kids on the black market these days. Mostly we got ‘em from China and Mexico.” He says it like we’re talking about a shipment of Nikes.
“Vern, there’s got to be another way.”
“Maybe, but this is the quickest. And probably the cheapest.”
“What do you mean the cheapest? We’re talking about kids.”
“Who live shitty lives.” He’s puffing out his chest again. “What we’re doing is like saving them from a life of misery.”
“You’re sick. Even more so for expecting me to go along with this. If I’d have had any any idea what was involved . . . .”
He sighs and pulls his wallet from his pocket.
“What if we let the kids go, and I figure out another way to close the gates?”
“Done deal. We’re doing it and you’re helping.”
“But you said there might be another way to close the gates.”
“Give it up kid. This is the only option we have short term.”
“I can’t accept that, Vern. There’s got to be another way.”
Vern drops a ten dollar bill on the table and exits the booth. “You coming?”
March 18, 2013
Chapter 15 – Call for Obstruction
So far, Barry has signed his soul into servitude to Satan on Earth. He is a courier, forced to transport a mysterious cargo from Denver to Trinidad, Colorado for a demon named Margery. He desperately wants out of his contract, but Margery has total control over Barry and the other drivers through her magical cigarettes. In order to find a way out of his contract, Barry decides to play the good employee and volunteers for overtime. Only the other OTG employees have gone missing—likely kidnapped by white warriors to God’s angels. Margery expects Barry and senior driver Vern to step in and do all the work, leaving Barry no time to snoop around the warehouse for contract loopholes.
During the second run of the day to Trinidad, tornadoes attach all the vans and snatch up all the replacement drivers, but Barry manages to get out of his van and dive down a steep hill. Barry’s seriously injured, but when Vern shows up, he realizes immortal life has its perks. He heals in minutes. On the drive to Trinidad in Vern’s van, Vern reveals that the OTG employees keep disappearing because the Gates of Hell are just about to open. Vern confides in Barry that he has a plan to stop it from happening. When Barry agrees to help Vern, he finds out that Margery is also in on the plan.
The Courier Series is about Barry White, a twenty-something computer geek with an overbearing mother, no prospects of finding a girlfriend, and an unemployment record that’s made him pessimistic he’ll ever be happy.
In Call for Obstruction, Barry has just lost his fourth jobs in the past year due to corporate downsizing. Desperate for employment, he jumps at the first position he’s offered over the phone, driver for OTG Courier Services. Shortly after meeting his new boss, a tiny yet fiery old lady named Margery, she coerces him into signing a questionable employment contract he soon regrets.
The Courier was originally written as a twitter novel @TheCourierNovel in 2009, and the same year it won the Annual Textnovel Writing Contest. Later parts of the story are still tweeting.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W. J. Howard lives near Denver and writes horror, fantasy and sci-fi with a bit of comedy mixed in. Wendy is also the Co-op Manager for Visionary Press Cooperative, leading an innovative way to publish.
Vern and I enter the Trinidad warehouse to the usual cold shoulder from Oscar. He stands behind his workbench with his chest puffed out. In his hand, he grips a screwdriver like a knife at the ready for a lethal stab. Considering Oscar’s husky size and coveralls, all he needs is a white mask and the guy could double as Michael Meyers in a Halloween movie.
Oscar glares at me and clears his throat. “Margery’s waiting for you two in the break room.”
“Thanks,” Vern says as he throws his keys up into the air and toward the workbench. With his eyes fixated on me, Oscar misses the catch. The keys hit the concrete and jingle. “Let’s go, kid.”
As we exit the garage, I lean in and whisper, “What’s up with Oscar?”
“Aw, don’t worry about him.”
“Even if he looks like he wants to kill me?”
I look over my shoulder. Oscar’s leaning through the doorway, listening to our conversation. He turns and walks back into the garage.
The break room’s dark and empty.
“Figures she’d keep us waiting,” Vern says as he flips on the light switch.
The usual buffet’s been laid out by Hell’s caterers. I grab a couple boxes of fruity cereal and head for the liquor cabinet. “Mmmm. Gin and fruity loops.”
“Nasty, kid.” Vern grabs a plate and fixes himself the exact same thing he had for lunch, hot dogs and beans.
The guys going to fog the van with old guy farts the whole way back to Denver.
No surprise, like the whiskey yesterday, there’s a bottle of my favorite gin waiting for me in the front of the cabinet. I take a swig then tuck it under my arm while opening a box of loops. Vern’s at the table, and he’s already scarfed down his first helping.
I drop the boxes of cereal on the table and it tips to the side, spilling the loops. “Crap.” I take in a few more swigs of gin and fall back onto a chair across from Vern.
Vern stands with his plate in hand. “Slow down, cowboy. We need you at least partially sober.”
I ignore Vern, take a few more swigs, and shovel a handful of loops into my mouth. The combo’s not half bad.
“Barry. Honey.”
The sound of Margery’s scratchy voice makes me choke on the loops.
She approaches us and picks up the bottle of gin. “I hope we’re not turning you into an alcoholic.”
“Give him back the bottle. The kid’ll be fine,” Vern says, his voice muffled as he returns to the table with a hot dog hanging out of his mouth.
Margery drops her cigarette into the bottle then places it in front of me.
“What’d you do that for?” I ask.
The three of us settle around the table. “So what has Vern told you about our plan so far?” Margery asks.
I stare at the cigarette now floating in the bottle. “You were listening in, weren’t you?”
“Not the whole time. I do have other responsibilities around here.”
I lean in and smirk. “Why don’t you read our minds and figure it out?”
“How about I use this bottle to spit your head open and scoop out your thoughts,” Margery says with the bottle in hand.
Vern interrupts. “He knows we’re plannin’ on closin’ the gates.”
“Why do you want to stop the gates from opening?” I ask. “I mean, you are a demon. Wouldn’t it be like going home.”
“Honey, if you were born in the slums and moved to a Park Avenue penthouse, would you want to go home?”
She has a point.
“Listen, the heat’s on. We can’t stall anymore by giving up the drivers and the cargo. I’m already getting questions from the police,” Margery says. “Hell’s not happy either, and I’m worried they might reassign me.”
“Where exactly is this gate?” I ask.
“It’s not really a physical gate, honey.”
Vern interrupts again. “Out at the Bellow’s Ranch. There are air shafts into the old coal mines all over the place.”
“Wait,” I say, “I thought you said it’s not physical.”
Margery rolls her eyes. “It’s not.”
“You can pretty much open to Hell from any coal mine,” Vern says. “Trinidad just happens to be the closest to opening. It’s the coal composition mixed with all the bad—”
Margery kicks Vern under the table. “Why don’t you tell him all of Hell’s secrets.”
“The kid’s a computer hacker, not a chemist.”
“Does this have something to do with the cargo we’re hauling?”
“You never mind that,” Margery says. “First things first. We need a plan to stop the Gates of Hell from opening.”
“How am I supposed to help if you two keep me in the dark.”
Oscar enters the room. “You’re wanted in Hell, now.”
Margery sighs while she stands up. She looks worried.
“No, no, no,” I say. “You can’t leave now.”
Margery pulls a new cigarette out of the air and aims it at me as if it’s a dart. “Will you ever learn not to talk back?”
I flinch and swallow hard.
Vern burps while he gets up. “C’mon, kid. Time to go back to Denver.”
March 15, 2013
Chapter 14 Part 3 – Call for Obstruction
So far, Barry has signed his soul into servitude to Satan on Earth. He is a courier, transporting some unknown cargo between Denver and Trinidad, Colorado. He desperately wants out of his contract, but his boss Margery, a demon, will do anything to get the drivers to do what she wants. So Barry has decided to be the good employee, hoping to find a way out of his contract. Only there are missing drivers and warehouse workers, and Margery expects Barry and Vern to step in and do all the work and train all the new drivers she just hired, leaving him no time to snoop around the warehouse. During the second run, tornadoes attach all the vans and new drivers, but Barry manages to get out of his van before it’s scooped up in a funnel cloud. After Barry falls down a steep embankment, Vern comes to his rescue. Barry is badly hurt, but as he climbs back up the hill he finds that he’s healing at a miraculous rate, and his eye sight is now perfect. Vern reminds him he’s immortal and should be happy because he would have never lived after the fall.
The Courier Series is about Barry White, a twenty-something computer geek with an overbearing mother, no prospects of finding a girlfriend, and an unemployment record that’s made him pessimistic he’ll ever be happy.
In Call for Obstruction, Barry has just lost his fourth jobs in the past year due to corporate downsizing. Desperate for employment, he jumps at the first position he’s offered over the phone, driver for OTG Courier Services. Shortly after meeting his new boss, a tiny yet fiery old lady named Margery, she coerces him into signing a questionable employment contract he soon regrets.
The Courier was originally written as a twitter novel @TheCourierNovel in 2009, and the same year it won the Annual Textnovel Writing Contest. Later parts of the story are still tweeting.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W. J. Howard lives near Denver and writes horror, fantasy and sci-fi with a bit of comedy mixed in. Wendy is also the Co-op Manager for Visionary Press Cooperative, leading an innovative way to publish.
Inside Vern’s van, the stagnant cigar smell makes me choke. He must drive the same van day after day, because fast food bags and cups are scattered everywhere. And why would he have toys from kids’ meals covering the dashboard. The guy sure has a sweet tooth, because there’s a big bag of candy on the console and wrappers thrown everywhere.
“Don’t they clean the vans?” I ask him while wondering if my fingers are sticky to the touch from tree sap or the yellow tar mixed with at least three years of dust that coats the interior.
“I don’t want anyone messing with my stuffs.” Vern pulls back onto the highway.
“Did we lose all the vans again?”
“Yep.” Vern takes his eyes off the road and stares at me. He can’t seem to sit still in his seat. It’s like he’s waiting for me to say something else. “Aren’t you curious how tornados happened to snatch up all the vans but mine?”
I humor him. “Yeah, sure, what happened?” Otherwise he might pester me for the remainder of the drive.
Vern sits up straight and proud, and points his thumb into his chest. “It was me. I gave ‘em up.”
“You gave ‘em up? What’s that supposed to mean.”
“I found the hex Marge puts on the vans and I gave it to the traitors.”
“Those white warrior things? Why?”
“Well, besides Margery pissin’ me off this morning, there’s something else you should know.”
“Wait.” I throw up my hands. “I don’t want to get involved?”
“Too late, kid, but I promise you’ll thank me when I tell you. I’m even bettin’ you’ll want to help me.”
I look at my watch. Three more hours of drive time—or two considering the way Vern drives. I force myself against the seat back and brace myself for whatever Vern has to tell me, figuring I have no other place to go. “Okay, spill it.”
“Remember what I told you about the traitors taking the vans over twenty years ago?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I gave ‘em up the last time too.” Vern pauses, waiting for me to comment. When I don’t, he adds, “We’re close again. Real close to opening the Gates of Hell.”
“Opening the gates? Of Hell?” I choke out.
Vern nods. He’s got a huge grin on his face. “Yeah, kid, of Hell.”
“Wait a second. Why would you stop the gates from opening?”
“Simple. Drivers get no special treatment when the Gates of Hell open. We’re damned along with every other human on Earth. I, for one, don’t want to have to pay for my sins. Do you have any idea what they do down there to punish guys like me?”
“Like what?”
Vern points at a picture of a young girl, around seven or eight, hanging from the dashboard.
“Your granddaughter?”
“No.” Vern sniggers. “She’s one of my girlfriends.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence in the van while I try not to vomit.
Vern finally asks, “You going to say something?”
“I’d rather just kill you.”
“How about you say you’ll help me?”
“With which one? Finding little girls to traumatize or sabotaging the gates opening?”
“Maybe I’m a pervert, but Margery told me what you’re capable of doing.”
“How is it you and Margery know more about me than me?
Again there was a long silence between us; again Vern breaks it. “Listen, kid, I don’t care what you think of me. All I care about right now is stopping the gates from opening. So either you’re with me or against me.” He takes his eyes off the road and looks at me. “What’s it going to be?”
Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. Either way the world’s screwed, but stopping the Gates of Hell from opening seemed the lesser of two evils. “I guess I’m with you.”
“Good, kid,” Vern punches my arm. “Did you hear that, Marge? The kid’s with us.”
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March 14, 2013
Chapter 14 Part 2 – Call for Obstruction
So far, Barry has signed his soul into servitude to Satan on Earth. He is a courier, transporting some unknown cargo between Denver and Trinidad, Colorado. He desperately wants out of his contract, but his boss Margery, a demon, will do anything to get the drivers to do what she wants. So Barry has decided to be the good employee, hoping to find a way out of his contract. Only there are missing drivers and warehouse workers, and Margery expects Barry and Vern to step in and do all the work and train all the new drivers she just hired, leaving him no time to snoop around the warehouse. During the second run, tornadoes attach all the vans and new drivers, but Barry manages to get out of his van before it’s scooped up in a funnel cloud.
The Courier Series is about Barry White, a twenty-something computer geek with an overbearing mother, no prospects of finding a girlfriend, and an unemployment record that’s made him pessimistic he’ll ever be happy.
In Call for Obstruction, Barry has just lost his fourth jobs in the past year due to corporate downsizing. Desperate for employment, he jumps at the first position he’s offered over the phone, driver for OTG Courier Services. Shortly after meeting his new boss, a tiny yet fiery old lady named Margery, she coerces him into signing a questionable employment contract he soon regrets.
The Courier was originally written as a twitter novel @TheCourierNovel in 2009, and the same year it won the Annual Textnovel Writing Contest. Later parts of the story are still tweeting.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W. J. Howard lives near Denver and writes horror, fantasy and sci-fi with a bit of comedy mixed in. Wendy is also the Co-op Manager for Visionary Press Cooperative, leading an innovative way to publish.
“Barry? You down there?” Vern hollers.
The wind being knocked out of me and all I can do is spit out pine needles and dirt. I hear footsteps from above as I try to roll out from under the low veil of a tree. Every bone in my body screams for me to stop moving, reminding me of my acrobatic journey down the hill. And the surface of my skin stings from pine needles poking into my flesh. Once I’m out from under the tree, I look up and see Vern standing over me.
“What are you doing down here, kid?” Vern reaches down to help me up.
I grit my teeth through the pain and manage to stand despite the cracking in my spine and legs.
“You get caught by those tornados too?” Vern asks.
“No, I thought I’d try sledding on pine needles just for the fun of it.”
“You lose any limbs?” Vern grabs my head and checks my ears.
“Ouch!” I grimace and slap Vern’s hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
“You’re fine, and we need to get up top and back on the road.” Vern turns to climb up the hill.
“Are you nuts? I need a hospital. Call for an ambulance.” I clutch his ribs and groan.
“Stop being such a pussy.” Vern turns and leaves me where I’m standing.
“Stop . . . !” I call out then realize Vern’s right. Most of the pain’s already gone, and I can stand up straight. Then I remember how fast I healed yesterday, after Margery burned my chest. I pick up my pace and say, “How’d that happen?”
“How’d what happen?”
“I’m not limping. The pain’s gone.” I pause and stomp my bare foot to test it out, while at the same time picking pine needles from his cheek.
“Immortal life, ring a bell?” Vern leans over and picks up the shoe I lost during the tumble. He throws it over his shoulder.
“I didn’t take that seriously.” I pause while the shoe’s in mid-air, then realize my glasses are gone, somewhere, but I can see the shoe without squinting. I’m even able to catch the shoe, a skill I’m sadly lacking.
“Look how steep the hill is.” Vern points up top at the guard rail. “You never would’ve crawled out from under that tree if you were still mortal.”
“Yeah, and if I hadn’t signed my life away, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Quit your wining,” Vern says. “We need to get at least one load to Trinidad tonight.”
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March 13, 2013
My New Toy, Vivino
This week I’m sharing my thoughts about my new toy, Vivino. Jeff Hollar turned me on to it Monday. What exactly is Vivino? This video explains it.
The app was easy enough to set up and I added 7 wines right away. At first it was so much fun I had to stop myself before I went through the entire wine cabinet.
The app allows you to manage wines from both your phone and the web, a plus. I downloaded the free app, so what I can do on my phone is limited at the moment. I’ve promised myself I’ll try other apps before buying one.
Taking pictures of wine label is a snap. It then scans the label and, in most cases, finds the wine in their database. If it doesn’t find the exact wine, it’s easy enough to change the year and type, or you can search by text for the right wine. The wine info page provides a decent amount of information about the wine and plenty of places to add your own thoughts and opinions. Tonight I learned about our wine choice before we opened it, paired it with the right meat and chilled it to the best temperature. Doing a happy dance. I’m not overly happy with the way you view lists of wines on your phone. I want more flexibility to create my own lists for shopping trips and parties. I guess maybe I could use the wish list. There is a nice section for wine pairing.
You can do a lot more with wine on the app than on the website. Viewing the wines on the website is easy enough though. They provide a list of your wines and the ability to sort them by categories. If a wine is missing information, it will drop off a category sort though. Plus, there is no heading for certain categories, so you can’t quickly find a grouping of a certain grape. The information about wines on the website is equivalent to the app, plus there’s additional vineyard and winery information with a map. I also like that you can look up a varietal and get suggestions. This wasn’t accessible from a wine page on the app. Maybe it’s in the Pro version.
Here’s a link to my page on Vivino at http://www.vivino.com/users/WinO-Wendy. They originally set my account up with the extension wendy-ho, which luckily I was allowed to change.
Last but not least, I have to add a link to The Ultimate List of Beer Apps for Blaze and our beer drinking friends—even though I’m pretty sure Blaze still uses a candlestick style phone.
Chapter 14 Part 1 – Call for Obstruction
So far, Barry has signed his soul into servitude to Satan on Earth. He is a courier, transporting some unknown cargo between Denver and Trinidad, Colorado. He desperately wants out of his contract, but his boss Margery, a demon, will do anything to get the drivers to do what she wants. So Barry has decided to be the good employee, hoping for an opportunity to snoop around and find a way out of his contract.
Before he drives his second day of work, he chats on instant messenger with his friend Nina, but he doesn’t have time to find out what she really wants. All the other drivers are missing. Barry learns that the white warriors are ex-drivers that turn against Margery and work for God’s angels. Back at the Denver warehouse, Barry finds that he is now a senior driver and he and Vern are responsible for everything including training all the new drivers Margery has starting that evening.
The Courier Series is about Barry White, a twenty-something computer geek with an overbearing mother, no prospects of finding a girlfriend, and an unemployment record that’s made him pessimistic he’ll ever be happy.
In Call for Obstruction, Barry has just lost his fourth jobs in the past year due to corporate downsizing. Desperate for employment, he jumps at the first position he’s offered over the phone, driver for OTG Courier Services. Shortly after meeting his new boss, a tiny yet fiery old lady named Margery, she coerces him into signing a questionable employment contract he soon regrets.
The Courier was originally written as a twitter novel @TheCourierNovel in 2009, and the same year it won the Annual Textnovel Writing Contest. Later parts of the story are still tweeting.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W. J. Howard lives near Denver and writes horror, fantasy and sci-fi with a bit of comedy mixed in. Wendy is also the Co-op Manager for Visionary Press Cooperative, leading an innovative way to publish.
Thirty minutes into my drive, there’s a late afternoon storm overhead, which is pretty common in early June. The sky’s nearly black and rumbling. Intermittent bolts of lightening appear to strike the surrounding foothills. So far the road’s dry, but I’m figuring a blinding downpour of rain will start any second. Given the choice, I’d have stayed home. Since that’s not an option, I’m contemplating taking the next exit. Get off the road until the storm passes.
I check the side-view mirror and see three vehicles barreling up from behind. Oh . . . shit! They’re in a hurry to escape two funnel clouds reaching down from the sky. Then I realize two of the vehicles are OTG vans.
As I reach for my own emergency button, I hope the new drivers had taken me seriously during their training, when I had warned them to do the same if anything bizarre happened.
The tails of the tornadoes whip at the other vehicles as they close in. When the two vans disappear in the swirl, I slam down on the brake and the emergency button all at the same time. There’s still no answer from Margery, but the last thing I want is for either funnel cloud to suck me up while I’m still in the van. All I can think to do is get lower than the highway. I skid to a stop in the median, check the side-view mirror and hit the button again. One of the funnel clouds sprouts a swirling hand that pointed my direction like it’s out for my blood. It’s too late for Margery to save the van, still, I hit the button again and call out, “Margery!”
“Honey, get out of the van! Get in the ditch!”
“No shit.”
“Barry, can you hear me? Get out! Now!”
I force open the driver’s side door, but the whipping wind cracks the metal and rips it off the hinges. I struggle to climb to the passenger seat against the force of the airstream circulating through the cab. I manage to kick open the passenger-side door and dive out over the guardrail.
The embankment is steep, forcing me into a somersault down the rocky hill. My hands flail, grabbing at anything to stop my momentum. All I manage is a body roll over boulders and logs that bruises every part of my body and shatters my hand and yanks off my shoe. When my forehead smacks against a something hard, all goes black and my body goes limp.
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March 12, 2013
Chapter 13 – Call for Obstruction
So far, Barry has signed his soul into servitude to Satan on Earth. He is a courier, transporting some unknown cargo between Denver and Trinidad, Colorado. He desperately wants out of his contract, but his boss Margery, a demon, will do anything to get the drivers to do what she wants. So Barry has decided to be the good employee, hoping for an opportunity to snoop around and find a way out of his contract.
Before he drives his second day of work, he chats on instant messenger with his friend Nina, but he doesn’t have time to find out what she really wants. Barry and Vern reach the Trinidad warehouse and find that all the other drivers are missing. While they eat their lunch, Vern tells Barry that the white warriors are ex-drivers that turn against Margery and work for God’s angels.
The Courier Series is about Barry White, a twenty-something computer geek with an overbearing mother, no prospects of finding a girlfriend, and an unemployment record that’s made him pessimistic he’ll ever be happy.
In Call for Obstruction, Barry has just lost his fourth jobs in the past year due to corporate downsizing. Desperate for employment, he jumps at the first position he’s offered over the phone, driver for OTG Courier Services. Shortly after meeting his new boss, a tiny yet fiery old lady named Margery, she coerces him into signing a questionable employment contract he soon regrets.
The Courier was originally written as a twitter novel @TheCourierNovel in 2009, and the same year it won the Annual Textnovel Writing Contest. Later parts of the story are still tweeting.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W. J. Howard lives near Denver and writes horror, fantasy and sci-fi with a bit of comedy mixed in. Wendy is also the Co-op Manager for Visionary Press Cooperative, leading an innovative way to publish.
Back at the Denver warehouse, three semi-trucks loaded with red OTG vans block the back parking lot entrance. I guess Satan doesn’t waste any time getting back up and running.
Also in the parking lot are a couple dozen cars and trucks belonging to the missing drivers. Assuming their owners never return, I wonder what will happen to their vehicles. And what about their families? Will Margery bother to notify next of kin that their loved ones have been taken by flying white warriors that work for angels?
I pull up in front of the office and park in a handicap spot, right beside another van I assume is Vern’s. I had left the warehouse before Vern, but he passed me in Pueblo. The guy drives like a maniac.
As I enter the office, Margery’s demon voice screams, “Just get the damn vans off the trucks. Now!”
Three guys run toward me so fast I have to jump out of their way. They fight to be first out the door like they’re in the middle of a Three Stooges routine.
Margery smiles when she sees me. “Honey, I got ten new guys starting in fifteen minutes. I need you and Vern to train them.”
“What are your talking about? It’s only me and Vern tonight?”
“Oh, excuse me,” she says with a snarl. “I had no idea you’ve taken over as scheduling boss for old Margery.”
“I just thought . . . I mean I’m not qualified to train drivers?”
Margery holds her cigarette as if she’s ready to throw a dart.
“No, no.” I lift my palms up and back away to escape the evil attack her cigarette might send my way.
Vern laughs in the background. “C’mon, kid, aren’t you an OTG expert now that you’ve been on a couple runs?”
“Shut up, Vern. We don’t have time for your crap and I need you in tip top shape the rest of the night.” Margery turns to me. “Go load the vans, honey?”
“I thought we don’t do that?”
“You’ve been promoted,” Vern says. “Like me, you now get to be an expert in everything around here.”
“But you said I shouldn’t go in the back of the vans.”
“Along with the drivers, seems we lost most of the guys who load the vans,” Margery says. “They went out for lunch and never came back.”
“Does this happen often, because I would have thought that Satan runs a more organized chaos?”
“Hasn’t happened for the past twenty-somethin’ years,” Vern says. “Not since the last time we got close.”
“Close to what?” I ask.
“Shut up, Vern.”
“Why? They left him behind. He might as well know.”
I sigh. What are they hiding from me now. Do I really want to know?
“He’s only been around two days,” Margery says.
“You demons are too paranoid,” Vern says. “Even you said he’s got potential.”
Margery’s eyes glaze to black and she holds up her cigarette again. “Vern, you go help load in the warehouse instead.” She turns to me. “I see two vans off the truck. Go move ‘em to the loading dock.”
Vern and I scurry away in opposite directions. I realize I don’t know where the loading dock is, but I’ve no intention of going back to ask for directions.
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March 11, 2013
Chapter 12 Part 2 – Call for Obstruction
So far, Barry has signed his soul into servitude to Satan on Earth. He is a courier, transporting some unknown cargo between Denver and Trinidad, Colorado. He desperately wants out of his contract, but his boss Margery, a demon, has other plans for him.
Before he drives his second day of work, he chats on instant messenger with his friend Nina, but he doesn’t have time to find out what she really wants. At the warehouse, he volunteers for overtime, thinking it might give him time to snoop around for a way to nullify is contract. When Barry and Vern reach the warehouse, they find that all the other drivers are missing.
The Courier Series is about Barry White, a twenty-something computer geek with an overbearing mother, no prospects of finding a girlfriend, and an unemployment record that’s made him pessimistic he’ll ever be happy.
In Call for Obstruction, Barry has just lost his fourth jobs in the past year due to corporate downsizing. Desperate for employment, he jumps at the first position he’s offered over the phone, driver for OTG Courier Services. Shortly after meeting his new boss, a tiny yet fiery old lady named Margery, she coerces him into signing a questionable employment contract he soon regrets.
The Courier was originally written as a twitter novel @TheCourierNovel in 2009, and the same year it won the Annual Textnovel Writing Contest. Later parts of the story are still tweeting.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W. J. Howard lives near Denver and writes horror, fantasy and sci-fi with a bit of comedy mixed in. Wendy is also the Co-op Manager for Visionary Press Cooperative, leading an innovative way to publish.
Like the previous day, a smorgasbord waits in the break room, only this time we get first pick of the food. Vern rushes ahead, knocking me out of the way to get at the hot dogs and beans. I walk around him and grab a couple mini-boxes of fruity cereal and a pint-sized carton of milk.
Vern sits at one of the tables with his head down. He holds his fork like a shovel in one hand while scratching his lower back with the other. As I approach, the old man eats faster and pulls his plate closer, like I might try to take his food.
“Grow up in a large family?” I ask while I sit down.
“No.”
“Raised by a pack of wild dogs?”
“Huh?” Vern lifts his head and frowns as he shoves half a hot dog in his mouth.
“Never mind.” I tilt my head back and pour cereal from the box into my mouth then take a drink of milk. After a long silence I ask Vern, “What happened to the other drivers?”
“Traitors likely took ‘em.”
“Traitors?”
“Yeah. You know, white warriors, like Margery calls ‘em. They’re nothing but traitors if you ask me.” Vern takes in two spoons full of beans before he adds, “Last time this happened, it was them who took the vans and the drivers.”
“What are those things?”
“You don’t know?”
“No. I mean, Margery told me a little bit about them.”
Vern burps, releasing a smell that’s not nearly as severe as Margery’s halitosis but bad enough make me push the cereal box to one side.
“Sorry, kid. I forgot you’re brand new around here. Marge only wants you to know enough to use it against you.
“Those traitors are ex-drivers, recruited by angels to stop the shipments, but mostly they piss me off.” After gulping down the rest of the dog, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still covered in dried blood.
“Why take the other drivers and leave us behind?” I ask.
“They know they can’t recruit me,” he says. “Maybe they figured you’re too complicated to recruit. Or maybe they just don’t want you.” Vern laughs.
“What do he mean, complicated? And why wouldn’t they want me?”
A red head pops around the corner. “Aren’t you done eating yet? Vans are waiting. You got five minutes to get your asses back on the road.” Margery’s gone just as quickly as she had appeared.
Vern’s scratching his chin with his middle finger in protest again.
“You get some thrill from pushing her buttons?” I ask him.
Instead of answering, he says, “You better go, kid, before you end up scratchin’ like me.”
I want to ask him more questions, but figure I’m better off taking his advice. “See ya back north.”
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March 8, 2013
Chapter 12 Part 1 Call for Obstruction
So far, Barry has signed his soul into servitude to Satan on Earth. He is a courier, transporting some unknown cargo between Denver and Trinidad, Colorado. He desperately wants out of his contract, but his boss Margery, a demon, has other plans for him.
Before he drives his second day of work, he chats on instant messenger with his friend Nina, but he doesn’t have time to find out what she really wants. At the warehouse, he volunteers for overtime, thinking it might give him time to snoop around for a way to nullify is contract. Before Barry and Vern leave the warehouse, Margery teaches Vern a lesson for talking back to her.
The Courier Series is about Barry White, a twenty-something computer geek with an overbearing mother, no prospects of finding a girlfriend, and an unemployment record that’s made him pessimistic he’ll ever be happy.
In Call for Obstruction, Barry has just lost his fourth jobs in the past year due to corporate downsizing. Desperate for employment, he jumps at the first position he’s offered over the phone, driver for OTG Courier Services. Shortly after meeting his new boss, a tiny yet fiery old lady named Margery, she coerces him into signing a questionable employment contract he soon regrets.
The Courier was originally written as a twitter novel @TheCourierNovel in 2009, and the same year it won the Annual Textnovel Writing Contest. Later parts of the story are still tweeting.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W. J. Howard lives near Denver and writes horror, fantasy and sci-fi with a bit of comedy mixed in. Wendy is also the Co-op Manager for Visionary Press Cooperative, leading an innovative way to publish.
While I was one of the last to leave the parking lot at the warehouse in Denver, I’m the first to arrive in Trinidad. I pull into the garage and wonder where the other drivers might be, but like yesterday, the only one around is Oscar, watching me park with the same old scowl on his face. I put the van in park and roll down the window.
“How’d you get here so quickly,” he calls out, “and in one piece?” Oscar limps around to the back door of the van, examining the exterior.
“What are you talking about? The drive was quiet except for the occasional semi driver who tried to run me off the road.”
Margery enters the garage and joins the inquisition. “That’s the only problem you had getting here?”
From her tone I can only figure she thinks I’m lying. I snap back, “Yeah. Why?”
Margery pulls on the handle on the back door of the van, and she seems disappointed it’s locked. She kicks at the bumper next, then disappears around the other side.
“Where are the other drivers?” I stretch my neck out the window and elevate my voice to make sure she can hear me on the other side of the van.
“I was just about to ask you that.” she says. I can see her through the side windows, a suspicious glare in her eyes.
“How would I know?” I say while I exit the van.
“You didn’t see any other vans on the highway?” She comes around the front of the van and pokes at the grill.
“No. Why would I? They left before me.”
Oscar limps back to where I’m standing. “You didn’t pass any wreckage?”
“Wreckage?” I’m starting to wonder if this is déjà vu of yesterday’s twenty questions with no answers.
“What about Vern?” Oscar asks. “Did you see Vern?”
“I told you, I didn’t see anyone from OTG.”
“Don’t worry about Vern. He can take care of himself.” Margery rocks the van like a couple of teenagers are going at in the back. Its wheels lift off the ground and Vern and I jump backward as it drops back down and bounces hard on the wheels. “Van’s fine,” Margery says. “It’s safe to unload.”
“Of course it’s fine.” I tell her.
“There’s Vern.” Oscar points outside the garage door at an approaching van.
“See. Told you,” Margery says. “Nothing stops my best driver.”
Vern screeches to a halt behind my van. He jumps out and slams the door. “Where’s Margery?”
“Get your eyes checked. I’m right here.”
“Wasn’t the nose enough, you old crow?” Vern wriggles where he stands, his blood crusted shirt half unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up. He scratches at a bright red rash covering his exposed skin, trying to avoid large pustules, some bleeding from all the scratching he must have done while driving south.
“Old crow! Apparently you need to lose a few more layers of skin to teach you to keep your mouth shut.” Margery turns to face me. “What do you think, honey? Should I tie his tongue in a knot?”
“Hey, keep the kid out of this.” Vern loses focus from his wounds just long enough to look around the garage. “Where is everyone?”
“They’re all missing except for you and Barry,” Margery says.
“Oh hell!” Vern says. “You don’t think—”
Margery cuts him off. “Of course I’ve thought of that, but they didn’t take Barry.”
“Why would they take him?” Vern says.
“What are you talking about?” I frown.
Margery shrugs. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to find new drivers. Go eat lunch and get back on the road.” She walks away, leaving me, yet again, in the dark.
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March 7, 2013
Chapter 11 Part 2 – Call for Obstruction
So far, Barry has signed his soul into servitude to Satan on Earth. He is a courier, transporting some unknown cargo between Denver and Trinidad, Colorado. He desperately wants out of his contract, but his boss Margery, a demon, has other plans for him.
Before he starts his second day of work, he chats on instant messenger with his friend Nina, but he doesn’t have time to find out what she really wants. At the warehouse, he volunteers for overtime, thinking it might give him time to snoop around for a way to nullify is contract.
The Courier Series is about Barry White, a twenty-something computer geek with an overbearing mother, no prospects of finding a girlfriend, and an unemployment record that’s made him pessimistic he’ll ever be happy.
In Call for Obstruction, Barry has just lost his fourth jobs in the past year due to corporate downsizing. Desperate for employment, he jumps at the first position he’s offered over the phone, driver for OTG Courier Services. Shortly after meeting his new boss, a tiny yet fiery old lady named Margery, she coerces him into signing a questionable employment contract he soon regrets.
The Courier was originally written as a twitter novel @TheCourierNovel in 2009, and the same year it won the Annual Textnovel Writing Contest. Later parts of the story are still tweeting.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
W. J. Howard lives near Denver and writes horror, fantasy and sci-fi with a bit of comedy mixed in. Wendy is also the Co-op Manager for Visionary Press Cooperative, leading an innovative way to publish.
Vern and I approach Margery.
“Why’d you have to go and pick me for overtime?” Vern asks. “I’ve got a hot date tonight.” He straightens upright from his usual hunched stance, as if he’s proud to show off his sexual prowess.
“I don’t care about your sick personal life, but I do care about that mouth of yours.”
“Hell, I’ve got more seniority than anyone else around here. I shouldn’t have to work overtime.”
“It’s your own fault,” Margery says. “When you disrespect the demon, the others think they can do it too.”
“That’s a crock of shit, and you know it. Where’s my respect for putting up with your crap for the last hundred years.”
A hundred years. I wonder if I heard Vern right. There’s not a chance I’ll work a hundred years for the demon bitch.
Margery shakes her fist. “You damn humans, always thinking you’re special.”
Vern rolls his eyes and walks away.
“I’m not done with you, Vern!”
“Too bad. I’m done with you.”
Margery’s eyes turn black as she takes the cigarette out of her mouth and flicks it at Vern. It bursts into a tiny flame just as it hits his back, leaving a smear of ash across his jacket.
My eyes widen. After what Margery put me through yesterday, I figure it’s better to be a few steps away from Margery and Vern.
“Go ahead. Give me diarrhea or one of your other special gifts.” Vern throws open the office door, but it swings back at him even faster and smashes into his face. Blood sprays from his nose, splattering all over the door. Vern drops to his knees, his head swaying like he might pass out.
Margery turns to me and pushes on the back of my waist. “Get on the damn road!”
I rush toward the door, but pause beside Vern and crouch down to help him to his feet. He’s cupping his hands over his nose, trying to stop the blood gush.
“I said get on the fucking road!” The door swings open by itself.
I recoil while looking down at Vern.
“Get out of here, kid,” he whispers while he wipes his hand on his jacket. “I’ll be fine.”
Cautiously, I exit through the door, half expecting it to snap back at me next, but I get through safely. Once I’m outside, I run toward the vans, dodging the other drivers as they leave the parking lot. Minutes later, I’m on the highway, more than ready for a few hours away from Margery.
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