“This came for you,” she says, handing me a small box with Priority Mail printed in the left corner. “It didn’t come by mail, though. I found it in front of the door this morning,” she adds.
Grabbing the package, I smile and say, “Thanks,” then head for the door.
I don’t think I’ve received this many packages in my life. At least it wasn’t in my locker this time.
Stopping outside, I sit down at one of the patio tables. I hold up my index finger, signaling Thomas I need a minute. Might as well see what’s inside before heading home.
The box has my name written in red permanent marker in large block letters. Bringing the box to my ear, I give it a shake and hear something shaking around inside. Whatever it is, it’s not very big, but it’s making light thumps when it hits the box.
Let’s see what Edgewood is sending me this time.
Dragging my house keys across the top, unsealing the tape. Inside there’s a smaller box and an envelope.Seriously?This better not be like one of those Russian Matryoshka dolls that get smaller and smaller every time you open one.
I hear boots hitting the concrete before Thomas’s looming frame blocks the sun’s warm rays.
“Sorry, T, I got this package and just wanted to open it before heading home.”
“No need to apologize, Miss Bishop. I didn’t want to leave you unguarded,” he states, making me crane my neck in his direction.
“Oh yes, T, all these bugs are out to get me,” I joke, returning my attention to the box’s contents.
I hear his light-hearted laughter as he karate chops the air.
“Play me?” I mutter, reading the note in the envelope.
Sighing, I rip open the smaller box, and sure enough, there’s a small voice recorder inside, along with another freaking box.
I hit play on the recorder. Silence, nothing plays. I shake it, but still nothing. I’m about to check the batteries when an auto-tuned voice comes through the tiny speaker.
Your lips have kissed what’s always been mine
You continue to refuse to fall in line
Tick tock goes your clock…you’re running out of time.
The hairs on my arms and at the nape of my neck rise like a domino effect. Thomas’s joking demeanor vanishes.
“Who sent this to you?” He demands, taking the recorder from me.
“I-I don’t know. There wasn’t any postage on it, just my name.”
“Who gave this to you?” he asks, his gaze sharp, surveying our surroundings as if he senses danger.
The voice loops the same creepy message, but it sounds louder, no longer whispery.
“I-it was, it cam-came from Mary. Sh-she said it was ou-outside when she arrived this morning,” I finally manage to get out.
I watch as he moves his focus to the smallest box. Reaching in his pocket, he pulls out a pair of gloves.
“Hand that to me, carefully.” Following his command, I place the box in his black-gloved hand.
I watch as he pulls out two masks, handing one to me. “Put this on. I don’t think anything in here is toxic. This is just a precaution.”
Once we’re both masked, he uses a box cutter to open the last box. Well, what I hope is the last box.
“Fuck!”
“What is it?” I ask, not sure I want to know.
