Special Delivery
by Steve Goldsmith

Bill and Vernon entered the dimly lit basement and stared down at the wooden box.

‘Jesus, Bill - how we goin to get that out?’

Bill chewed on his lip. ‘Vernon, it won’t be a problem, trust me - Mr. Tanas said it wouldn’t be heavy.’

Vernon gazed down at the dusty box: seven feet in length, and four feet deep and wide. ‘What the hell’s in it?’

‘I don’t know, Vernon...I don’t know,’ responded Bill. He was a short man, with a plump body and round face. He was the brain behind B & V handymen. (Bill & Vernon Handymen) The two of them had been friends since college, and as they hadn’t been able to hold down any other jobs in Kimberly village, they had gone into business together. Any odd jobs that came around tended to find there way to B & V handymen. Especially when it was the: no-questions-asked type jobs.

Vernon ran a finger along the dusty top of the box, examined the dust on his fingertip and turned to Bill. ‘What do you mean you don’t know?

Bill stared at him, frustrated that after all these years together Vernon still had to ask stupid questions. He didn’t respond, just waited for the answer to materialize in Vernon’s curly haired head. ‘Oh! No questions work, is it?’

‘Yes,’ Bill replied. ‘Come on, let’s get it out of here...we’ve a long trip ahead.’

Vernon put his lanky frame behind the box and got a grip.

‘One...two...three - lift,’ called Bill. They lifted the box, which they both thought was surprisingly light. They carried the box from the basement, and through the trees that surrounded Mr. Tanas’ house.

They walked cautiously, unable to see the ground below due to the dark shadows the trees cast upon them

‘Who is this Mr. Tanas?’ asked Vernon, panting. ‘We’ve never done jobs for him before, have we?’

‘No, he’s new to us, I’ve never met him, he just posted the details of the delivery through the letter-box,’ Bill replied.

They reached the edge of the trees and carried the box over to the raft that awaited them at the riverbank. The raft was made from tree trunks bound together with rope; two paddles lay on the raft.

‘Bill.’

‘Yeah - what is it now, Vernon? No more questions, we’ve got to set off...otherwise we’ll be late.’

‘Okay, Bill...but why the hell are we taking the raft? Why not take the box in the van? It would be much quicker...and you know I can’t swim,’ Vernon whined.

‘Vernon, if you fall in, I’ll drag you out...okay? Anyway, it’s not in our hands...Mr. Tanas told me exactly what he wanted, and that was for the box to be taken by the river - on the raft that would be waiting for us. He said he didn’t want to name the place we’re taking it...but the journey would take most the night, so to set off as soon after dark as possible. He said we would know we had reached our destination when we got there,’ Bill concluded.

Vernon sighed, and then stepped forward onto the raft, making a wailing noise as he did - the raft bobbed under his feet. They placed the wooden box down carefully, trying not to upset the raft.

‘Jesus, Bill...you sure this thing’s safe?’

‘Vernon, shut up. I told you, I know nothin - let’s get going...if you fall in, I’d prefer us to be as far away from Kimberly village, as possible...at least nobody will hear your screams as you drown.’

Vernon sat down, wrapped his arms around his legs and held tight. Bill untied the raft from the tree and pushed away from the bank with his oar.

Soon, the two men, and the box, were floating down the center of the slow flowing river. Bill remained standing, doing his best to direct the raft, but it was the river that was in control of their route. Behind them the lights and noises of Kimberly village gradually died down, until the only sound came from the ripples of water lapping against the raft; the only light from the stars and the moon.

Vernon, who had had his eyes shut for the previous few minutes, opened them and looked about. He guessed the river was probably a quarter of a mile wide. Probably very deep...very deep! His brain repeated. He pulled his vision from the dark waters and gazed up to the stars that shone in the black night.

Growing on the banks of the river, were tall, dark trees, which sat motionless. There was very little wind.

‘Hey, I think a fish just hit the oar!’ said Bill as he turned to look at Vernon. ‘Big one too - almost took the oar right out of my hand!’

Vernon gave an anxious grimace, and then glanced at the dusty box. He raised an arm in the air and slowly moved his hand towards the box.

‘Vernon...what you doing?’

‘Nothing, Bill...I just wonder what’s in the box.’

‘Vernon, I really don’t care...Mr. Tanas didn’t tell me, so it can’t be important.’

‘How much we getting for this delivery?’

‘Five hundred,’ responded Bill - though it was actually six.

‘How much?! Jesus, Bill, five hundred to deliver a box...one night’s work. Bill...I don't like it...it’s too much, it must be something illegal.’

Bill gazed at Vernon, wondering why he had ever agreed to take him as his partner. ‘Vernon, it’s not necessary illegal...but obviously it could be something a bit illegal. Why else would there be these cloak and dagger arrangements. Do you really think Mr. Tanas would send this box by raft, if it were totally legit? For Christ’s sake, Vernon, it’s the 21st century, you deliver boxes by truck, or train, not by some river raft right out of Huckleberry Finn!’

‘Yeah...I didn’t think of that, Bill...it makes sense now...but Bill?’

‘What is it, Vernon?’

‘Whose Huckleberry Finn?’

‘Didn’t you ever go to school, Vernon?’

Vernon thought for a minute, scratching his curly head of hair. ‘Oh I see - an old school mate was he? But I wouldn’t know that, Bill...we went to different schools.’

‘Yes, that’s right Vernon - Huckleberry Finn was my best mate at school...now, if you want to get off this raft, I suggest you pick up the other oar and give me a hand,’ commented Bill.

Bill and Vernon floated on down the river, around several bends and into faster moving water. The banks were closing in on them and the trees hung over them as they drifted to the near side of the river.

Vernon had one last swish of his oar then turned to Bill.

‘So what do you thinks in the box, Bill?’

‘I don’t care, Vernon, why’s it so important?’ responded Bill. ‘Less we know the better...if we get picked up by the “pigs,” it’s best we can claim ignorance.’

Vernon’s head creased in thought. He looked to the box.

‘You don’t think it’s a...a...dead person, do you?’

Bill glanced over to Vernon; they met eyes.

‘Vernon, to tell you the truth, when we’re asked to carry a dusty wooden box, the size of a coffin, down a river, in total secrecy, by the cover of night and we aren’t told where we are going or what’s in the box - I think that it is a possibility...yes. That’s why it’s best we don’t know.’

Vernon rubbed his head - he caught a smell in his nostrils. He sniffed a bit, and then lowered his nose nearer to the box.

‘Bill, I think it’s a body, it’s started to decompose!’

‘Vernon, shut the fuck up - stop looking at the damned box and concentrate on steering this raft, look we’re drifting again...come on, otherwise we’ll hit the bank, then we’ll be stranded and starve to death in the forest, and then there will be three dead bodies.’

Vernon thought for a second. ‘Bill, this is wolf country, we’re more likely to be eaten, before we have the chance to starve.’

‘Thanks, Vernon, that really reassures me.’

‘That reminds me,’ said Vernon. ‘Have you seen: Abbot and Costello meet Frankenstein?’

Bill lifted his oar from the water, moved to the center of the raft and sat down. ‘Look, I think we are doing more harm than good trying to steer this damn raft...sit down and let’s let the river guide us.’

Vernon didn’t need any extra encouragement and took his oar from the dark waters and sat down with Bill - for a moment leaning back against the box, but then sitting upright, taking his back from it’s cold wood. ‘Jesus, Bill, it’s bloody freezing...you didn’t answer my question.’

Bill yawned and lay back with his head against his arms. ‘What question?’

‘Have you seen that “Abbot and Costello” movie?’

‘No Vernon,’ he said, tired. ‘Tell me what happens.’

‘Well, Lou and Bud are asked to deliver a wooden box to the basement of some guy, whose line of business is a museum of horror...or something. They take the box into the museum and rest it down. But then the lid opens and Count Dracula is inside.’

Bill rolled his head to face Vernon. ‘Please don’t tell me you think “Count Dracula” is in this box?’

‘Well no -’

‘And please tell me you don’t think any other vampire is in the box?’

Vernon turned away and sulked. ‘It was just an idea, Bill...at least I had an idea, what do you think then?’

‘I told you, I don’t want to know.’

    ‘KOOOOO!’

Vernon shot up to his feet. ‘What the hell was that?’

Bill turned away from his work colleague and closed his eyes. ‘Just an owl...just an owl.’

As the night progressed, Bill and Vernon took it in turns on watch. Bill watched the river ahead for any potential hazards: rocks, fallen trees, or even the rare chance of another boat or raft appearing on the river. In contrast, Vernon had only one eye on the river - his other eye was focused on the cold wooden box. He glanced at the snoring Bill, and then called his name to see if he was awake.

‘Bill...Bill, are you awake?’

No answer.

Vernon lent forward to the box and then slowly rested his ear against it. He didn’t know what he was listening for; maybe the hissing of a vampire or the heart beat of some unknown monster. He could hear nothing. He sniffed at the box again, quickly retracting his nose as it came in contact with the freezing wood.

‘Jesus - why’s it so cold?’ he asked himself. He looked around the box for any sign of a hole he could look through. There was. Only a small hole, but just large enough for him to place his eyeball against - to take a quick peek.

He crouched down and moved his face closer...then squashed his eye against the hole and gazed in. It was too dark to see anything, but that didn’t stop his imagination running wild.

Why does Mr. Tanas want us to deliver this box (coffin) by raft? Why not by truck? Must be some illegal shit. Oh God, what if it’s a body? Or a vampire?! Shut up mind, he thought. Switch off and go to sleep, please!

A shadow moved in the box and Vernon wrenched his eye away, scared. ‘Jesus...no, just your mind playing tricks...just your mind playing tricks,’ he reassured himself.

He ran his fingers over the lid - to see how well it was fastened down. Then a squeak above grabbed his attention. He got to his feet - his heart pounding to escape his rib cage. He swung his head about on his shoulders to locate where the squeak had come from. An owl? ‘Owls don’t squeak.’

A low flying bat swooped over, Vernon screamed, lost balance - waving his arms frantically to prevent himself falling backwards...too late - he fell into the river - the noise of the splash made Bill stir in his dreams, the water that jumped from the river splashed down onto Bill’s sleeping body - he jumped up, soaked. It took him a second to remember where he was. Then he heard Vernon wailing in terror.

‘Vernon, where are you?’

‘Here!’ came the half drowned response. Bill span round and saw the lanky body, half floating, and half sinking, just behind the raft. He grabbed the oar and held it out towards Vernon, who gulped in a lungful of air, then vanished again beneath the water’s surface.

‘Vernon!’

He came up again, clutched at the oar and gulped like a fish.

‘Pull me in! - Bill, pull me in!’

Vernon climbed back onto the raft, then sat shivering.

‘Vernon, what the hell happened?’

‘A bat! It tried to kill me - I lost balance and fell in the river.’

‘Why were you standing? I told you to let the river steer us,’ Bill said.

‘I ...I was taking a look at the box...I want to know what’s in it, Bill...if it is...a, well, anything spooky...I want to know...Bill, let’s open it, please, just a quick look. Did Mr. Tanas say we couldn’t take a sneaky peek?’

Bill groaned. ‘No - he didn’t...I suppose we could have a quick look...what harm can it do? Then at least you’ll let me rest in peace,’ he said.

‘Don’t say that, Bill!’

‘What?’ he asked unaware.

Vernon swallowed hard. ‘Rest in peace - R.I.P,’ he spelt out.

‘Get the tool bag, Vernon,’ said Bill. ‘We’ll open it just for you.’

Vernon grabbed the black, leather bag and opened it. From it he took a crowbar for himself, then one for Bill. They wedged in the crowbars beneath the box’s lid.

‘Wait! Bill, what will we tell Mr. Tanas?’

Bill thought for a second. ‘He won’t ever know...we should be able to lift the lid, by forcing the nails up. That’s why I take the tool bag everywhere with us...a tool for every need!’ he commented. ‘If we do damage the lid, we’ll say we dropped it trying to get it to the raft or something. Let’s just open it and work out the excuses, if we need them, which we won’t, after we’ve seen what it is we‘re delivering down the river.’

They looked at one another then lifted, the lid creaked then came up - the nails with it. Bill went around the box and jimmied the lid with the crowbar, to loosen each nail further, until he reached the last nail - the nail that was between them discovering what was in the box. Between them finding out what they were delivering.

‘Wait!’ called Vernon. ‘What if that smell I smelt, was a dismembered body...or...or rotting heads or something!’

Bill shook his head. ‘What smell? I can’t smell any smell...can you smell any smell?’

Vernon sniffed...then sniffed again, this time harder - so hard he had to close his eyes in a blink. ‘I can’t smell it anymore.’

‘Well then,’ said Bill. ‘You must have imagined it.’

Bill yanked on the nail and it came out smoothly. He looked to Vernon and smiled. ‘I told you we could do it without damaging it!’

The wind had picked up and blew icy bursts across the raft. The tall trees that lent ominously over the river, swayed back and forth. The river water was now gushing, speeding into rapids. Bill and Vernon hadn’t noticed - too caught up in the excitement and trepidation of lifting the lid off the box.

‘Let’s lift it off together,’ suggested Vernon. Bill took one side and Vernon the other. ‘Ready?’

‘Yep...lift!’

Just as they went to lift, the raft rocked in the rapids and knocked both Vernon and Bill over - they landed heavily on the raft. The lid rested slightly ajar of the box.

‘Bill, the river - it’s going fast!’

‘Well done, very observant! Get the bloody oar, Vernon.’

They grabbed the oars and tried steering the raft through the rocky, gushing rapids - the raft span round -Vernon fell landing on his face - a shot of blood fired from his nose. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the moon that was spinning in circles.

‘Waterfall,’ Bill muttered below his breath, as he gazed ahead of them to where the water was heading.

Bill dropped to the raft and buried his head in his hands, as the raft spiraled out of control towards the waterfall. The raft shook frantically, sending water over the top of them and the wooden box...the raft was being forced to the center of the river - the water sped up - faster - faster...then they plunged down - down - the water covered their yells of
fright and they wriggled about not knowing how deeply under the river surface they were.

Vernon came to the surface and sucked in a chest of air, and grabbed hold of the wooden box, which was floating beside him.

‘Bill! Where are you?’

His friend came up to the water’s surface - Vernon clutched onto his collar and dragged him over to the side of the wooden box, which they held onto, breathless, as the river took them.

After what had seemed like hours, at least for Vernon and Bill, the river slowed and became shallower. They clambered to their feet and carried the wooden box to the shore.

They dropped to their knees panting - Bill coughed up a mixture of blood and river water.

‘Jesus - we made it, Bill. We made it!’

Bill rubbed the water from his eyes and tried to smile. ‘Yes, Vernon,’ he said as he noticed the box was still in one piece. ‘And we still got the box - and look, the power of the water must have jammed the lid back on as well.’

Vernon would have preferred for them to have lost the box, with the raft, in the river. ‘Now what?’

‘Well, we’ve got the box, so let’s just walk it. There’s six...I mean, five hundred dollars in this for us.’

As they were about to lift the box, they heard somebody shout up ahead. They ducked down and stared through the trees. It was a couple of men, who were running from a farmhouse. They ran right down to the river, jumped in,  and started swimming towards the center.

‘What are they doing, Bill?’

‘I don’t know.’

An icy gust of wind, sent shivers down both of their spines.

Bill turned and saw someone come out of the shadows. Bill froze, screamless. He raised a shaking finger towards Vernon and tapped him on the shoulder - then pointed at the dark stranger. Vernon turned.

The black robed creature walked slowly towards the wooden box, his scythe glistening in the moon’s rays. The creature stood behind the box, motionless.

‘Bill,’ Vernon whispered, trembling. ‘It’s him...it’s Death!’

Death outstretched a bony hand and took hold of the lid of the box, then tore it away in the same motion. He raised his white hand and beckoned them closer with his index finger. Vernon and Bill ambled over, slowly, too frightened to disobey. They reached the box and stared down into what was a black, bottomless hole. They glanced up to the black robed “thing” - their eyes followed where he was now pointing. It’s fleshless finger pointed to the river’s edge - to where the men were dragging two drowned, lifeless bodies from the water. The men turned the bodies over onto their backs.

‘They’re dead, Marvin,’ one said.

Paralyzed in fear, Vernon and Bill stared at the bodies. The nearest body looked - so familiar...it was Vernon. It had Vernon's face...the other - was Bill. It was their lifeless bodies that had been dragged from the river. It had been them that had drowned. The waterfall had killed them..

©2002 Steve Goldsmith