"The Box"

Short Fiction, by C.J. Heck

“Just Coffee, please.

Who am I? No one important —nobody you need to be concerned about anyway. Just know, my head’s screwed on straight and, as they say, that’s what bakes the beans.

What am I doin’ here? That’s my business, too, and I’m not sayin’. Some things no one’s privy to, unless you’ve got a damn good reason, or maybe a crystal ball, so quit askin’ and get my coffee. Please.”

Nobody in this burb knows what happened to Lou and Karla James. They were private, you know? Kept to themselves. Last week they were here, this week they aren’t. Their house up the hill still waits ---and so does their dog.

Everybody takes a turn with Manny, like walking and feeding him, and being a place for his licking to go. He’s likeable, Clover not so much. Don’t know where Clover went --she was here, then not here, not even a bark left behind.

Look, I’ll tell you what I know. It’s about a box and some guy who came to town with it. Told everyone his name was TJ.

“Call me TJ,” so they did.

TJ just showed up one day. Said he had something to deliver to Lou and Karla, but wouldn’t say what it was. No one answered the door, no newspapers on the porch, no mail overflowing the mailbox. He wouldn’t believe no one was home till the Sheriff went up there, all business-like and checked. Then he believed.

“Now how’s a guy supposed to deliver something, if they don’t stay home?” TJ asked Sheriff Dix on his cell. He told him about the box for Lou and Karla and the sheriff said they weren’t home. He asked what was in the box, but TJ didn’t know.

“It’s just a box. How am I supposed to know what’s in a closed box? Some guy gave it to me with the address and fifty bucks and I need the money. That’s all I know, game over.”

(Hmmm, not the brightest bulb in the box …)

The Sheriff told him, “Leave it on the front step, then beat it.” He’d make sure they got it. But the day wore on as days do and the Sheriff couldn’t wait. His ears were itching and that was always a bad sign. Could be something bad in the box … maybe Lou or Karla’s head? Ha ha ha. Could be something to eat that’ll go bad, if it’s not put in the ‘frigerator.

After exhausting all avenues of why he shouldn’t open it, the Sheriff decided he had to. He drove back to Lou and Karla’s, found the key under the flower pot and took the box inside to the kitchen table.

He almost changed his mind again. Then with a loud, “Shit and tarnation!” he ripped the tape off the box, balled it up, and missed the trash can by a yard when the tape stuck to his thumb, mid-throw.

He took a deep breath and pulled a flap open. A second flap gave him a peep hole and when he pulled a third open so he could finally see inside, common sense kicked him in the gut.

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph!” Sheriff Dix closed the flaps, stood, and slowly backed away. “A pipe bomb? Is that what I saw inside the box? Who the hell would want to kill Lou and Karla?” He went back for a second look. Satisfied he saw what he thought he saw, he carefully closed up the box.

Now what? I’m NOT babysitting a pipe bomb! What, me mess with something that could make my wife a widow? He answered his own question minutes later as he put the box on the floor and lowered a mattress onto the box. Stuck under a mattress, at least it was less dangerous. There’d be no one dying that day.

“Leave it where you found it!” The bomb specialist shouted into the phone.

(I can’t believe the incompetence of this guy …)

“Look, don’t move it! DON’T touch it! I don’t know why it hasn’t already exploded! Are you trying to kill yourself? Get out of the house! Leave the door open! We’ll be there inside of an hour.”

Hearing the dire warning, the Sheriff’s pants warmed where he peed them. When his heart quit hammering, he drove home to change. He’d be back before the bomb squad arrived. They were almost an hour away.

He had a dark thought and his heart went crazy again. He had no way to contact Lou and Karla. What if they come home first? They won’t know there’s a bomb … or where it is.

Motion didn’t set it off —what if it’s on a timer? I’ll have to wait for the bomb squad to find that out. What if someone already got to Lou and Karla … and they won’t ever be home?

(I could tell them ... ‘cause I know. Well, I thought I knew …)

Who am I? Huh uh, already told you, don’t you be worrying about me. I’m close enough to watch, near enough to ask questions, and confident enough … well, I could give you goosebumps.

Am I concerned? Nope … someone owes me a lot of money and I’m … real good … at waiting.

Poet/Writer/Author of 5 books.
Quora Top Writer 2018.
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