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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