A Package For Nolan

Nolan had no idea where the package had come from. He wasn’t expecting anything from Amazon, and, despite playfully accusing his wife Gloria of having daily e-shopping deliveries, she wasn’t expecting anything either. They hadn’t heard anyone come to the door. Not even Buster, the golden retriever that maddeningly barked at anyone and everything that came within the property boundaries. Nolan only found it at the front doorstep when he went out to pick up the mail.

He brought the package inside and set it on the table. There were no distinct markings on it, Nolan noticed as he sat on the chair adjacent. It was a simple brown paper box, maybe two inches square at best. As he looked it over, Gloria entered the room, handed Nolan his morning coffee, and sat beside him while nursing her own. “What is it?” she asked. “I don’t know, sweety,” Nolan replied, “it was on the doorstep when I stepped out.” Gloria laughed, saying, “Maybe someone dropped off some pacifiers for the baby!” Nolan smiled. “Well, that would be about right for the size,” he chuckled, “although that’s still a few months away.”

“Look, here,” Gloria said as she pointed to the box, “there’s writing on this side.” Nolan was taken aback. “There wasn’t,” he said, looking perplexed, “I looked over the entire thing.” He flipped the box around to see where Gloria had seen the writing and, sure enough, there was. “That’s very strange,” he whispered as he grabbed his reading glasses, “it says here ‘To Nolan – Do Not Open Until May 28th, 2021, 7:32 pm.’ Weird, right?” Gloria nodded slowly in agreement. “Definitely,” she professed.

After a few moments in silence, Gloria spoke up, asking, “soooo, what are you going to do, Nolan?” He picked the box up again, shook it, and placed it back down. “It’s what, the 27th?” he queried rhetorically, “I guess do what it says.” “You don’t think we should call the police or something?” Gloria proclaimed, her voice revealing the panic she was starting to feel. Nolan put his hands gently on her shoulder. “No, sweetheart, no,” he said reassuringly, “it doesn’t even sound like there’s anything inside it. Seems harmless, maybe one of the neighbourhood kids playing a little prank, but it’s only one day to wait. We’ll play along, it’ll be okay.” Gloria sighed deeply. “Okay,” she finally admitted, “I’m overreacting, I’m sure. We can wait.”

The rest of the day proved uneventful. Nolan headed off to work, finishing off as many projects as he could heading into the weekend. Gloria retreated to her office, logging on to her iMac to begin teaching her online classes. Fridays were pizza night, so they ordered from Pizza Palace and settled in to watch some Netflix before retiring to bed.

They awoke at around 10:00 am, grabbed some coffee and sat in the front room. Nolan was placing his coffee on the end table when he noticed that the box was now there. “Did you move the box, Gloria?” he queried. “No, no – it’s where we left it last night, isn’t it?” she asked. Nolan was shaken. “It’s… it’s in here,” he responded quietly. Gloria turned to look, almost dropping her mug at the sight. “What the hell…” she managed to squeak out. He picked up the box and placed it in front of him, which is when he noticed that there was now more writing on the package. “Tonight, 7:32 pm,” Nolan read aloud, his voice quivering. They both fell back into their chairs, breathlessly silent, staring at the box as if awaiting some spectral presence to move it elsewhere yet again.

Hours passed by and still they sat in silence, unable or unwilling to take their eyes off of the package. Finally, Nolan looked at his watch and said, “7:30. It’s 7:30. You ready?” “Yes,” Gloria replied as she somehow managed to push herself even deeper into her chair. Nolan counted down the seconds, anxiety and excitement racing through his head. As soon as the clock hit 7:32 Nolan ripped open the package to find a piece of paper. He unfolded it slowly, unsure of what to expect. Once opened, Nolan read out what it said.

“DUCK.”

Just then, the sound of gunshots erupted from the street. Nolan threw himself to the ground, motioning frantically for Gloria to do the same. The front window shattered as bullets riddled the wall behind them. They held on to one another tightly, their ears ringing from the sound. It felt like an eternity, but after a few seconds the gunfire could be heard moving down the street.

The sound of the sirens approaching was like a choir of angels, assuring them that the moment had passed. A police officer came in through the front door and raced towards them, wanting to make sure that the couple hadn’t been injured. She helped Nolan and Gloria up, guided them to the couch and sat across from them. “Are you alright?” the police officer asked. They both nodded. “Shaken up, but alright,” Nolan assured her. “You folks are very lucky,” she comforted, “it was a gunfight between rival gangs, purely coincidental that it played out in your street here.” She stood up and walked back towards the door, saying, “If it’s all the same, folks, I’ll still have one of the paramedics come in just to make sure you're okay.” “Of course, certainly,” Gloria said, “thank you.”

After a few hours the first responders vacated the area. Nolan grabbed some plywood he had in the basement and boarded up the front window as best he could. He was told the insurance assessor would be by in the morning, so there was nothing else that could be done now. Exhausted, they brushed the couch off and fell into it. They couldn’t speak, but as they sat together their touch brought them comfort. They were alive, they were thankful.

Gloria noticed it first. Dumbfounded, all she could do was tap Nolan on the shoulder and point. Nolan’s gaze rested upon where she directed.

There, in the box, was another piece of paper.

Nolan reached for it, pulled it out and unfolded it. It was a letter, addressed to him. The writing was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He pushed that aside, reasoning that whoever had written it would reveal themselves in the letter. Nolan began to read it aloud.

“Nolan – you know me, but I’m praying that you don’t ever know who I am. I sent you this package, this warning, hoping that it would save you from the living hell your life would become. You see, on May 28th, 2021, 7:32 pm your life would change forever. Unaware of what was happening outside, you stood in the front room, where the first bullet from the gun exchange outside pierced your skull and lodged in your brain. You survived, the bullet was removed, but you weren’t the same afterwards. You lost your ability to reason, to control your emotions, and in two months from today you would become so enraged that you beat Gloria so badly she ends up dying in the hospital within minutes. The baby, a boy, would die with her. You spend fifty years in a prison cell, praying for death but never receiving it. You are released, stumbling into the nearest dive bar where you try to drown your memories in whiskey. The next morning you wake up in the street, where the horrors you lived assault your mind. Somehow you crawl into the coffee shop and ask for a small box, a pen and some paper. You write one word on one piece of paper, a letter on the other, and stuff them in the box. You find some brown paper in the trash bin outside, so you wrap the box and, before you drop it in the mailbox, you pray that somehow it makes it where and when it needs to be. And if you’ve read this, it did. All the best, and my love to Gloria and our boy.

- Nolan.”