Chapter 8 Part 1 – Call for Obstruction

So far, Barry collided with a courier van, and the accident turned into a job opportunity to drive for their service. After signing an employment contract he has second thoughts about working for his new boss, Margery. Only Barry’s contract gives Margery control over him to the point she’ll do whatever it takes to get him to do what she wants. When Margery sends Barry on his first trip to Trinidad, he’s attacked by large white birds with human faces. A murder of thrushes come to his rescue.

As I approach Trinidad, I’m still irritated Margery was right about my anxiety. After about ten minutes I stopped shaking, but I’ve kept one eye on the road and the other focused on the sky for the remainder of the drive. I’ve had this uneasy feeling those flying bastards have been watching me the whole way.

I exit at Highway 12 and head south to a gravel road to God only knows where. The GPS directs me under a broken down log constructed ranch marker with missing letters and then by a sign with the words ‘no trespassing.’ I’m uneasy as the mechanical voice tells me to proceed west over terrain spotted with sagebrush and monstrous boulders until, finally, just through a patch of trees I see a building. It’s a red weathered warehouse surrounded by tall weeds, rusty old vans and mining equipment.

The garage door opens automatically and a tall man, well into his fifties and wearing red coveralls, limps outside. As he waves me into the garage, I notice that he’s got one of scraggliest mustaches I’ve ever seen and long grey hair pulled back in a braid. Add the tan pigment in his skin and I’m guessing he’s Hispanic or Native American.

The garage is much neater than the outside, almost like driving in for service at a dealership, although not as fancy as the dealership where my mom brings her car.

I park the van and get out.

“You’re an hour late,” Margery says from across the garage, where she leans against a doorway, glaring at me.

I jump when I hear her voice. “How did you get here?”

The guy who greeted me answers for her, “Margery’s everywhere. Get used to it.”

“Meet Oscar. He’s in charge of the vans down here. His only fault is he doesn’t know when to mind his own business,” Margery says. “Now follow me to my office. We need to talk.”

My stomach flutters as I follow her into a room almost identical to the office in Denver. I’m taken aback and the song to Twilight Zone plays in my head. The only difference is it doesn’t have a door leading outside to the Denver parking lot.

“Well, you made it through your first run in one piece.” Margery sits at her table, also indistinguishable from the one up north, and picks up one of her already-lit cigarettes.

I take a seat and sigh. “If that’s a usual drive, I’m not cut out for this.”

Margery’s bushy, rust-colored eyebrows raise and her eyes turn a pulsating black. “I’ve got high hopes for you, honey. When you resist, you disappoint me.”

At first I jump back in my chair, but I can’t break eye contact or even blink. “I’ll do better tomorrow. I promise.” As soon as I say it, I regret it. I make a mental note never to look into her eyes again.

“Now follow me to the break room and we’ll get you something to eat before you head back up to Denver.” Margery stands then leans over to put out her cigarette, exposing her wrinkled cleavage.

I cringe and make a mental note to never look at that again either.

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