Issue #166 : Locked In

 

I don’t know where I am.

I can hear what sounds like water out there, but I don’t know for sure. There’s a sloshing sound, something washing up against the side of this box and the way it’s pitching, I have to be on the water.

I just don’t know where.

There are sounds that could be seagulls when they swoop out over the canal for their morning breakfast but I’m not even sure what time of day it is. The box is sealed up so tightly, I can’t even see enough of the outside to see if it’s daytime.

The last thing I remember is the poker game, trying to figure out why the martini tasted so off, like the olives had turned or something. I guess I know what was going on. It’s like waking up after the worst blackout with an even worse headache.

I have no idea how I ended up inside this thing. It seems like the size of an old-style luggage chest. It isn’t long enough for me to stretch out, but I can sit up. 

It scares me that I can’t see the outside light. Is this thing airtight? If that ends up being the case, how long will I be able to survive in here? There has to be some air getting in. I couldn’t have lasted this long, could I?

I’ve tried yelling. I’ve tried kicking the size of the box. I tried forcing the top open, pushing up with my back and I could’ve sworn it gave way a little but I’m still stuck in here.

Somebody’s got to find me eventually. Especially if I’m floating around, out on open water. Eventually someone will have to spot this thing and get me out. I just have to be patient and stay calm.

Sure. No problem.

The box is moving more violently now and I think I felt an impact of some kind. I’m pretty sure I heard a bell that could have been a buoy. That would put me in the channel.

Then why the fuck hasn’t anyone seen me?

And why would they stick me in here in the first place? Okay, I owe the guy some money. Is this how adults deal with situations like this?

There’s that horn again. I know I’ve heard it before. I’ve heard it somewhere, I just can’t place it.

The box is moving again. I just cracked my nose against the side. Pretty sure it’s bleeding. I swear, I would trade one of my organs right now for a cell phone. Even an air horn or a whistle. Anything.

Stay calm.

This can’t go on forever. Someone’s going to find me and in a few hours I’ll be sitting in a comfortable hospital bed under observation. And you can count on me giving my statement to a detective, telling him who did this. Anyyone who knows me knows that I have no trouble with calling…

Anybody.

Anybody knows.

Why would they stick me in here if there was any chance of me walking away and pointing the finger at them? What would be the point?

Unless they’ve done this before.

Unless I’m not supposed to walk away from this.

The horn again.

And now I’m smelling something. I don’t know why I didn’t before, because it seems plain as day now. It’s a bad food smell. Vegetables, or fruit that’s been left out in the sun for too long, like…

I know that horn.

Son of a bitch.

I’m not in the water.

I’m on one of the garbage scows.

Nobody will ever hear me from inside this thing.