The Path - Story 2 of 31
Day 2, Story 2
A rodent delivery driver is almost done with the day before he's convinced to make one more.
The Path–Story 2 of 31
By Ta’kom Ironhoof
“Hey Brody, glad ya here. Just got an urgent delivery request.”
Brody, a 23-year-old rat, had just gotten back after delivering packages all day, even though it had been storming, rain drenching the entire area. To say he looked like a drowned rat would be an understatement.
“Yo moose, chill out. It’s 5:13pm and my shift ended thirteen minutes ago, Raymond.” Said Brody, clear irritation painted his every word.
The older moose raised an eyebrow and was about to reprimand Brody but looking him over, he eased back. “Look, we’re getting paid big for this delivery, my man. It may be 1973, but we ain’t figured out how to ship things without people. Blows my mind. Put a man up there on the damn moon and we can’t get a cardboard box across town with a machine, no people.”
“Cut it with the spacey shit. I ain’t one of your characters in those sci-fi books you’ve always got your nose in. Must be easy here in dispatch.” Brody was clearly at his breaking point, now turning to make for the punch clock.
“Wait! Wait, brother, wait!” Raymond called to Brody. “I’ll pay you double time!”
Brody, not turning around or slowing his pace, called back, “Fuck your money!”
There was a moment of silence before Raymond shouted, “TRIPLE TIME!”
Brody paused, his left foot still extended, boot covered paw only inches from the ground and his hand already reaching for the punch clock within a few scant feet. After a few moments, Brody twisted around one hundred and eighty degrees, his left foot still hovering above the ground, and began walking back toward the dispatcher’s window briskly. As Brody arrived, he slammed his hands down on the small window frame separating him and Raymond. The older and larger moose was obviously shaken.
Brody stared at Raymond, a wildfire burning in his unblinking stare. Raymond finally broke the silence.
“Triple time. One delivery, you don’t even have to stop back here. Drive the truck home.”
Brody closed his eyes, desperately holding back. “I want dinner, too, since you’re fucking me raw with this.”
“Done.” Raymond didn’t hesitate.
Brody twisted his head and opened his eyes to a squint, replying, “And…I want tomorrow off.”
Raymond laughed, “Tomorrow’s Saturday, you’re off any ways. I’ll give ya Monday.”
The now slightly less-wet rat’s face twisted into curious confusion as he pondered what could be so important that Raymond would give in to his demands. Brody continued to stare before finally throwing his hands up. “Alright, this ain’t like you at all, you old moose. What is this damn thing?”
“Hell if I know. This freaky deeky lady contacted us last week asking if we could help move some stuff from her place in Salem over to Beverly. Some place up on Snake Hill.”
Brody dropped his hands, laughing hard, “You can’t be serious?! The old Jenson place? Ain’t nobody living up there. Shit’s haunted through and through.”
“Look man, this lady dropped a load of cash and asked us to move her stuff. Asking question ain’t in our contracts. We pick up stuff. We deliver stuff.” Raymond was gesticulating his words as he spoke, clearly feeling more positive that Brody was at least listening to his pitch.
“So what happened to the pickup driver, man? Why did he bring it back here?” Brody questioned.
Moose pointed to the last driver’s truck, now sitting in the garage bay with its hood open. “Ole Bertha broke down. Blew a head gasket or some shit. I ain’t no damn mechanic. Doesn’t jive with me. You had the only other truck.”
Brody rolled his eyes and looked toward the old, broken-down truck. “Maybe if you’d pay the mechanics right, they might actually stay long enough to keep these pieces of junk running.”
Raymond now stared at Brody, deadpan, folding his fingers together and gently placing them on the desk in front of him. “Alright, wise guy. Here’s the deal and it’s the last time I’ll ask. You deliver the box in the back of Bertha. I pay you triple time, give you some petty cash to grab dinner, and you take Monday off, but you gotta bring the truck back. You down or not?”
If Brody had thought that the rain was intense earlier in the day, it was a monsoon now, as the sun dropped beyond the horizon. The old truck’s windshield wipers were only barely able to keep up, sloshing the torrential rains just enough to give momentary clear glimpses to the road.
“At least the headlights work good.” Brody thought to himself.
Any other day, he’d have the radio tuned to his favorite station, singing and grooving along. But not tonight, and as Brody approached Snake Hill, his heart dropped.
“It’s a motherfucking dirt path…” he muttered out loud to himself.
“IT’S A MOTHERFUCKING MUD PATH!” Brody shouted, slamming his fists against the steering wheel. “How the fuck am I supposed to get this big ass truck up this hill?”
Brody sat in the middle of the road, truck idling, as the rain continued to pound the truck. Even with everything Raymond had promised him, he couldn’t believe that he had actually agreed to this. Then a thought occurred to Brody as he looked up the hill. He could see a single light at the top of the hill through the rain and trees.
“Instead of getting the truck stuck, I could just haul it up to the house on foot. Wasn’t THAT heavy.”
Brody pulled the truck over on to the shoulder of the road, threw the hood of his rain slicker over his head, and got out of the truck.
After a few moments, Brody had opened the back of the truck and gotten the box out, ready to hike up to the house. Surely Raymond would rather this than get the only working truck stuck in the mud. Brody imagined the truck half-buried in mud and Raymond tearing him a new one. Brody really felt like he was making the right choice.
As he crossed the paved road to reach the head of the untreated path up Snake Hill, Brody noticed a curious sign, roughshod, attached to a tree.
“No footpath. Please call ahead of time.”
Brody stopped, frozen in place, not believing that there was yet another hurdle.
“The nearest payphone is down by the pizza place but that’s a few miles away and I ain’t got no number!”
Brody shrugged his shoulders and began trudging up the path.
At first, the path wasn’t really that bad. Even with all the rain, the ground was mostly solid, with only a few places, causing his boot covered paws to slip. However, after what felt like an hour, Brody looked toward the top of the hill and he was taken aback. After all of his efforts, the light at the top didn’t appear to be any closer. Looking back down toward the main road, he could no longer see his truck, the road, or any signs of civilization. And the box in his hands felt heavier than ever.
“Man, don’t you give up now! Can’t be that much further. Just around that curve up ahead. Gotta be!” Brody spoke out loud to himself, attempting to motivate him to finish this endeavor.
With an effort, Brody began moving up the hill once again; each foot fall feeling heavier than the last, the box weighing on his arms. His breathing became heavy with effort. His whole body ached. And the rain was relentless.
Again, Brody felt like he had been pushing forward and he looked up toward the light at the house at the top of the hill. His goal and his salvation from this hell in which he found himself. The light twinkled and glimmered through the red oaks and pouring rain. Almost a peaceful scene had he not been standing in the middle of it, knee deep in mud.
He was indeed knee deep in the slurry and he hadn’t even made it to the curve in the road.
Panic set in quickly, the drowning rat’s heart pounding in his chest and his mind racing to find a way out. Brody tried lifting a leg, but it was of no use; there wasn’t anything solid to step upon. It was as if he had only wallowed a hole in the ground and jumped in. Broad was also in the middle of the path. There was simply no way he could grab any of the trees to pull himself free. And with the rain continuing to pour, Brody could only guess how long it would be until the earth swallowed him whole.
“The box!” Brody shouted out loud. A genius thought occurred to him. He’d stand on the box, then jump to the edge of the path. At least then he might be able to reach a tree. To Brody, that would certainly be better than sinking into the mud.
With a plod, Brody dropped the box and allowed it to sink. Then, with some effort, he managed to completely enact his plan; getting on top of the box and leaping toward the edge of the path. In front of him, the base and trunk of a red oak and much more solid ground. However, as Brody tried to stand up, he quickly noticed his foot had a tree root pinned to the ground.
“Let go, you little bastard!”
Brody jerked and shook his leg violently, all the while on his belly, clawing desperately toward the tree. It loosened, but didn’t let go completely. Thinking quickly, the rat tried to flip over and pull his foot free of his boot. But just as his rear end hit the ground, Brody was shocked by what he saw.
The roots were not wrapped around his foot.
“How the fuck?”
The roots had grown through his leg.
The only ones to hear Brody’s cries of terror were the red oaks and the pouring rain; the light at the top of the hill snuffed out and the rain finally slowed to a halt.