It was such a simple plan. This was the only thought running through his head. Much like the gerbil he'd had as a kid. This thought was like that small animal, running endlessly in a hamster wheel.
The snow was still falling, but not as hard as it had been earlier. It glittered in the light of the lamppost he leaned against. So white. White as only newly fallen snow can be. Except around his leg. That was tinged red from the blood seeping from the mangled mess the coyote had made of it. He looked at the small package again. The cause of all this trouble.
It was late evening when he'd gotten the call from a friend who brokered off-the-record deliveries. You called his friend when you had something that had to get somewhere quick, no questions asked. His friend employed drivers who didn't care what it was, as long as there was a payday.
His friend give him an address where he'd receive a package for delivery. That address was your basic non-nondescript warehouse. There'd been an average looking fellow standing in front. He was handed over a small sealed package, small enough to fit comfortably in a jacket pocket.
He'd also received an address upstate, nearly to the border. As well as the promise of a sizable bonus if he delivered before the sun rose again.
Using his phone, he searched for the address on one of those mapping engines. After a bit of study, he decided to take a shortcut. It would cut a couple of hours off the trip. He'd be there in plenty of time to get that bonus. There was even a small town about midway along the road, where he'd be able to stop for gas and use the restroom.
At least that was the plan. Until a tire blew. Until he discovered he hadn't fixed the spare from the last time he'd gotten a flat. Until he tried his cell and realized there wasn't a signal to be had for love or money.
Thankfully, according to that online map, he was only a couple of miles down the road from that little town. Surely there's been someone at the gas station who'd be able to sell him a spare, and give him a ride back to the car. Better yet, maybe there's be a car he could rent for a few hours. He could make his delivery and come back for his car, all freshly repaired by the oh-so-helpful imaginary gas station attendant.
Getting a flashlight out of the glove compartment and putting the package into his jacket pocket, he started walking down the empty dark road.
He kept to the tracks made in the snow by earlier vehicles. It worried him only slightly these tracks had newly fallen snow in them. As if no car or truck had been on the road in hours to crush it into the pavement. The trees on either side of the road seemed like walls in the blackness. Brush lining the road made it seemed like it was an impenetrable forest.
It hadn't been too cold when he left the city, but out here in the country the temperature had dropped more than he was comfortably dressed for. The snow made small drifts in places. However, most of it seemed trapped up in the branches of that forest.
He sped up his pace, hoping to generate some extra body heat. It would also get him to that town and gas station quicker.
There were animal noises all around him. They'd been getting louder. Were there supposed to be animals awake at night?
Then, he heard a noise behind him.
He turned, shone the light around, but nothing. Turning back around he resumed walking. He'd take a dozen steps or so, and again, that noise. Like something heavy crunched the snow behind him. Turning, he still didn't see anything. Was he imagining something was following him? He set an even faster pace.
Just when he thought he would break into a run, not a good thing when on a dark country road with only the light of flashlight to go by, all the animal noises stopped. He stopped too. Dead in the middle of the road. Then, just ahead of him, the coyote stepped out of the brush and trees lining the side of the road. It's eyes were set to glowing by the flashlight.
Goosebumps covered his arms. Heck, it felt like they were covering his entire body. He started walking again, quickly, not quite running. He'd thought he'd read somewhere acting confidently in the presence of a wild animal could make it leave you alone. He also scanned the side of the road for a loose branch, or a rock. Anything he might use as a weapon. He tried to keep an eye on the coyote without looking directly. He'd read a direct look could incite an attack. Or would looking directly at them prevent an attack? He couldn't remember. He felt he'd be babbling if he tried to speak just then.
The attack was silent. One moment he was walking down the road. The next, he was down on the ground, the coyote ripping into his leg. The fall had knocked the breath out of him, but he didn't think he could have yelled, he was that shocked by what was happening.
At moment later, he was screaming. From the pain in his leg, from seeing his blood outside of his body. He tried to pull away from the coyote, but it just caused the animal to shaken his leg more. He raised the flashlight, still in his hand, thinking to attempt to brain the beast over the head. The movement of his arm caused the package to fall out of his jacket's pocket. Something inside rattled, as if some piece of it had broken off from the solid whole. The sound of it seemed to echo into the night.
The coyote's ears pricked up at the sound. It dropped his leg and snatched up the package. Then turned and run back into the forest.
The package was gone? Great, he thought. Now this was serious trouble. Far more serious then a wild animal attack that left your leg looking like raw meat. The kind of people who bought this kind of delivery service didn't accept excuses like "A coyote attacked me and stole your package.”
He had to get the package back or he was a dead man. It would be less painful to just bleed to death on this road. Ignoring the pain, and the blood dripping down his leg to the ground, he got up and started after the coyote. Was the light dimmer? When was the last time he changed the batteries in the flashlight?
In the dim light he could just make out what he hoped was coyote tracks in the snow. He limped down the trail, trying to keep as much weight off his bad leg as possible. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any branches on the ground thick enough use an a crutch. Branches still attached to trees were too thick to break off with his bare hands.
Tree branches, bent from snow, tickled his hair, then dropped snow down his jacket. He wished he'd taken the time to pick up his heavy coat. The one with the hood. The bushes he struggled though were leafless, but still seem to hold more than enough moisture to drench his pants. The upside to this, his wounded leg was so cold now it didn't seem to hurt as much.
Then just ahead he saw it a bright light. He could also see the trees and brush were thinning out. He was coming to some kind of open area. Then he stood at the edge of the forest.
The coyote was waiting for him just ahead, under a lamppost in an open field. The lamp shone brighter than the full moon would have, if it hadn't been hidden behind the clouds.
What was a working lamppost, heck any lamppost, doing out there? And why was that damn coyote standing beneath it. It was spooky.
As he stepped out into the openness, the snow began to fall again. Heavily.
He'd stood still too long. He was getting colder, and his leg was really throbbing. He needed to sit down. He needed to get warm. He needed to have never taken this job. But he had. And he had to get that package.
He limped forward, out from under the forest, toward this oddly lone lamp. It shone so brightly, making the snow glitter madly in its light. The coyote's eyes were shining. It's fur, beaded with moisture, also shone.
It seemed to take forever to walk across the field. As he got closer, he realized it wasn't just a field he was walking across. It was the remains of pavement. Overgrown with wild grasses. Dead now with winter. Then he recognized the foundation of a small house. Then another one that had probably been a store. Finally he realized he was walking through the leftovers of the town he'd seen on the map. The town he'd been walking toward, hoping for a friendly gas station attendant to help him with his tire troubles.
He'd heard how a local economy could sink so low that only one option was left to what few inhabitants remaining. Sell the buildings to recycling firms who used the salvaged materials to built anew far away, where people still made a living. Then use the funds to make a new life elsewhere.
Leave it to him to pin his hopes on a ghost town.
So, the town was gone. The gas station was no more. Yet somehow, this lamppost still remain. Still powered and putting forth the welcoming light of its cold comfort in the darkness.
And that blasted coyote was still standing under it. Still holding the damn package.
No. It had dropped the thing at the base of the lamp. Then, with what looked like a smile, the coyote turned and loped away. Into the darkness and new snow.
He stumbled forward. Stretching out his free hand, the one not holding the flashlight, he weakly grabbed on to the post. He be t down to pick up the wet, chewed upon box. Then found he didn't have the energy to straighten back up. He hugged the post as he slid down. The snow cushioned his landing onto the ground.
And here he was. Mangled leg slowly leaking blood onto the snow. Yet, for what it was worth, he had the package. A little worse for wear. Well, maybe much worse. At least as broken as he was.
He wasn't going to make the delivery before dawn. Hell, he wasn't going to be making any deliveries ever again.
It had been such a simple plan. How did it go so wrong?
