The Delivery

She was jolted awake by a loud noise. It was a familiar sound but in her sleepy stupor it took a moment to recognise it. She checked the time.

“What the hell? Who is ringing my doorbell at 2am?”

Shoving on a robe she staggered to the door. Someone was waving a flashlight around outside and she remembered that she had recently joined one of those food delivery companies.

“Really? At this time of night? They’ll have to do better than this!”

She opened the door, looking down for the box, but there was none. Instead, she saw a hand holding a black book that piqued her curiosity; didn’t they use devices to log orders these days? A flicker of light revealed some highly-shone shoes. She looked up to see who was wearing them but the flashlight was shining right in her face; “How rude.” She thought, shielding her eyes.

“Can you just deliver the box and leave please? You woke me up! And next time, don’t ring the bell. You can leave the food on the doorstep.” She was trying to be polite but had already decided she was going to cancel her plan if it meant being woken up in the middle of the night.

“Is this your book?” His voice was harsh and cold. It sent a chill through her, but she was angry so she ignored it.

“No it’s not! Did you seriously wake me up to ask me that? And get that light out of my face!”

The harsh voice called out; “Is this her?”

“Yes, that’s the one. She’s lying.”

“For your information I never lie, and I have absolutely no idea what you mean! Now leave me alone or I’ll call the police.”

She tried to slam the door but the heavy black shoe stopped it. This was no food company. She would have run but there was nowhere to go. Dropping her eyes from the blinding light she once more saw the book. It was small and well used. Something about it kept drawing her gaze but she had no idea what.

“Miss, you are going to have to come with me.”

“No way! I’m not going anywhere. You have no right to…”

Before she could finish her sentence, the man grabbed her arm - hard! She wanted to struggle, to wriggle away, but her arms and legs were cement. She thought her heart would explode through her chest as the man pulled her towards the blinding light.

“Stop it! I know my rights! I haven’t done anything! Let me go! Please! Let me go!” The words were in her head but she couldn’t speak. Her mouth was bone dry, her lips fused together with icy terror. Where was he taking her?

As his vice like grip tightened, she noticed he was still holding the book in his other hand. Why didn’t he put it away? What was in that book that was so important? With every ounce of strength she could muster, she kneed him in the stomach. As he buckled over, she knocked the book out of his hand, dropped to the ground and scrambled towards it. The man grabbed her ankles but she kept reaching, edging closer and closer to the tattered pages. Something told her that the book was everything. The book would save her. But just as her fingers brushed the worn cover something hard landed on her head. The edges blurred and everything turned black.

She was bolt upright in the bed, gasping for air, her skin clammy with horror. She willed herself to be calm, listening hard. It was quiet, so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat. She looked slowly around the darkened room. Even through the shadows, she recognised the furniture, the clothes draped over the chair, the shape of the wall hangings. She looked across to the dresser. It was still there.

The bus ride felt endless. She clutched the bag on her lap, looking inside every few minutes, as if the little black book and the envelope would somehow disappear if she didn’t keep checking.

The house was much smaller than she expected from the grand address: Willows Lodge. It turned out it was in a retirement village. Nervously she knocked on the door. The lady who answered was small and frail. She eyed her suspiciously.

“I…umm…I just came to give you this. I think you left it on the bus.”

“Oh! My handbag! Thank you. I thought it had been stolen.” Tears welled up in the old lady’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch anything, well only the little book to find out your address.” She was lying. She had opened the envelope and counted the money, all twenty thousand dollars. But tempted as she had been to keep it, she couldn’t keep living with those nightmares.