As far as Carl knew, no one had witnessed it.
It had been a well-planned abduction.
Carl had been delivering a parcel after lunch when it happened. At first it felt like any ordinary delivery, until he’d reached the address.
He’d stopped the van and checked the address.
This can't be right.
The house looked vacant. He could barely see the front door through the overgrown garden. The place looked a wreck. A safety hazard. The houses next door looked even worse.
Where the hell am I? Stupid GPS.
He hated the GPS. He preferred navigating by maps and memory. Paper maps and human memory.
When the GPS got it wrong, it really got it wrong. Carl had never delivered to this suburb before. Certainly not to this street of dilapidated houses.
He beeped his horn twice. Someone might emerge. Or perhaps he'd wake up a dog. If he saw a dog, he could leave a ‘COULD NOT DELIVER' notice in the mailbox.
No one came out. No dogs barked.
He checked the phone on the passenger seat.
UPS had just issued all drivers new phones. Too many drivers were breaking or losing ordinary phones. The new phones were huge, bright yellow, and built tough enough to stop a bullet.
They were also too big to fit in your pocket and had terrible battery life.
Right now Carl’s phone couldn’t even get a signal.
Stupid phone. The battery’s almost out of charge again.
He hopped out and slid open the cargo door. He found the parcel.
Another heavy one.
He should use the trolley, but pushing the trolley through the overgrown garden would be a pain in the ass.
Easier to just carry it.
He hefted the parcel.
More bloody books.
Why was everyone ordering books these days? Hadn't they heard of a library? Carl hated delivering books. Especially textbooks. Half a dozen textbooks might as well be a cannonball.
The front gate stood ajar. He kicked it open. It squeaked at him.
No one lives here.
As expected, his knock went unanswered. He glanced through the porch window.
There's not even any furniture inside. Why didn't I check before I carried this heavy parcel up here? Because I'm an idiot, that's why.
He left the gate open, distracted as a familiar-looking van approached.
FedEx?
The FedEx van with its big purple and green lettering parked behind his brown UPS van.
What the hell's going on here? Are we being pranked?
The cargo door of the FedEx van rolled open. A man pointed a paintball gun at Carl.
What the...?
This was a first. He'd heard of some stupid things, but paintballing the competition? The face behind the gun looked too old for pranks.
Pfffhhht!
Carl heard the release of compressed gas. The shooter had squeezed one off. By reflex, Carl raised the parcel to protect his face. Those paintballs really hurt unprotected skin. These guys were being idiots, but Carl could see the funny side of it. At least he'd have a good story back at the depot.
He felt the impact of the ball hitting the parcel.
Ha! They'd missed! Suck it!
'You missed!' he yelled at the guy in the van.
He checked the parcel to make sure the impact hadn't damaged the books.
There was no paint.
It was a dart.
The kind of dart used for tranquilizing wild animals.
Fuck me! He just fired a frigging tranquilizer dart at me!
But that held Carl's attention only a second because he heard his own van starting up.
They were stealing his van too!
Carl sprinted toward his van. This was the last thing he needed. If the van was stolen and the police became involved, they'd run a proper background check on him. UPS would find out he’d served time. His life would go down the drain.
Carl didn't think the situation could get worse.
It did.
A yellow Taser pistol appeared through his van's window. But Carl was committed. Too close to stop.
Sprinting for his van, Carl lifted the parcel high. One step from the driver's door, he hurled the heavy parcel with all his strength.
His window was down.
Nothing stopped Carl's special delivery smashing into the thief's head with spine-snapping force.
The man collapsed sideways. His arm jerked upward. The yellow Taser flew over the van's roof.
Carl yanked open the door, hauled out the unconscious man, jumped in and gunned the engine.
Thwack!
Someone stabbed Carl through the open window. He jerked away.
My shoulder!
They'd shot him in the shoulder. Another dart. He yanked out the dart, threw it out the window, and saw the man with the tranquilizer rifle dashing back toward the FedEx van.
He knows he shot me. I've probably only got seconds before I'm unconscious. Or dead.
Carl decided to make every second count.
His instincts screamed 'DRIVE AWAY!'
He didn't.
He dropped the van into reverse and gunned the engine hard. Carl knew his van. He'd visited drivers in hospital after accidents. He knew how quickly a van became a devastating combination of steel, glass and momentum.
Rocketing backward, Carl saw two things in his mirror.
First, he was dead on target.
Second, the man with the tranquilizer rifle was only halfway inside his van.
CRAAAAASH!
The vans collided. The horrendous sound of tortured glass and steel assaulted Carl's ears. His head smacked the cushioned headrest.
The back of his van crumpled the front of the FedEx van.
Carl glimpsed the man with the tranquilizer rifle cartwheeling through the air.
The FedEx van’s door had become a human catapult.
Before either vehicle stopped, Carl shifted gears and accelerated hard. His tires squealed.
Shit — why aren't I moving? We're locked together!
Carl punched the accelerator flat to the floor — shriiieeeek-CRACK!
Something gave and he shot forward.
He strained to stop the van careening. The van’s wheels bounced over something on the road. The object thumped the van’s undercarriage twice before appearing in his mirror.
A man rolled floppily behind him.
I just ran over the guy I hit with the parcel. I’ve probably killed both of them! What the fuck's happening!
And why was he driving through someone's yard? Oh, he wasn't holding the steering wheel any longer. His arms weren't working.
He slumped sideways onto the passenger seat as the tranquilizer took over.
Barely conscious, his last memory was of a collision.
He couldn’t see what he hit.
He just saw the exploding airbags racing toward him.
Chapter Seventeen
'What's she doing?' Megan asked suspiciously. 'We said two minutes. She's already taken five.'
Chrissie's turn at using the phone to record a message had Megan on edge.
'Maybe she's listening to our messages,' said Alex.
Megan stood up, about to investigate, but Chrissie appeared with the phone.
'What took you so long?'
Chrissie sounded tearful. 'I didn’t know what to say.'
Megan looked up from checking her phone. 'Oh, sorry. I didn't....'
Chrissie walked around her.
Alex asked, ‘Why today, Victoria? Why record your message today?’
Victoria stood near the ice watching a drop of melt water descend. She followed its wet path down the ice.
'Victoria?’
'I heard you, Alex.'
Victoria sounded different. Her voice sounded empty.
'I told you all not to touch the ice,' she said vacantly. 'I warned you, but you wouldn’t listen.’
Carl didn't overly like Victoria
, but he respected her intellect. She'd earned that. The profound resignation in her voice worried him.
'I knew it was coming,' she said. 'I just...I don't know. I prayed. I really did. Maybe even God can’t hear me through these walls.’
'What do you mean?' asked Megan.
‘This is it,’ said Victoria. ‘We’re leaving the goldilocks zone.’
Carl felt too sick for fairy tales. ‘Just tell us what you mean, Victoria.’
Alex said, ‘The goldilocks zone. It’s the temperature zone suitable for life. Not too hot and not too cold. Like our planet.’
Victoria said, ‘But you’ve all been destroying it. Look at you. You’re not even moving to keep warm now.’
‘She’s right,’ said Megan. ‘It’s not as cold. We would have been shivering and turning blue like this two days ago.’
‘Because you fools have been digging.’
'It was already melting,' countered Alex.
‘And you sped it up,’ said Victoria. ‘How many days have you stolen? Without this ice, we're locked inside a giant solar oven. You’ve been killing us!’
'Enough!' yelled Carl. ‘Alex measured the ice. It’s only dropped forty one centimeters since yesterday. It’s still over five meters high. It’ll take weeks to melt.’
Victoria shook her head, exasperated. ‘You people can’t even do the simplest math, can you? The ice is just a heat sink. It's just been draining away heat as melt water. Now with less ice surface to sap away the heat, the temperature is increasing. The heat will build up exponentially.'
'How hot will it get?' asked Chrissie.
'Well,' said Victoria. ‘I'd guess about—’
'No!' yelled Megan. 'Don't tell us. I don't want to know.'
'Well, I do,' insisted Chrissie.
'No, you don't,' said Alex. 'You won't be able to stop thinking about it.'
‘Four hundred degrees Fahrenheit,' blurted Victoria. 'Maybe more.'
No one spoke for some time.
Alex finally said. 'In the fairy tale, Goldilocks jumped out the window and ran away. I wish we had a window.'
#
'Why didn't you warn us before?' demanded Chrissie.
'She did,' said Carl. 'She's warned us from the start not to touch the ice. We did anyway.'
Carl tried not to imagine being cooked alive.
'It's a test,’ said Megan. ‘It’s just another test. We can stop that happening.'
'How?' asked Carl.
‘We've already started,’ replied Megan. ‘We've identified the traps. We beat the bomb. We beat the radioactive lock. We beat the initial cold. We're on the right path. This is just another test. There’s a solution. We just need to find it.’
Alex nodded.
Carl nodded too. Anything to avoid being 'cooked alive'.
'So we keep chipping the ice?' asked Chrissie.
'We work strategically,' answered Megan. 'We'll focus on the artifacts and leave the rest of the ice alone.'
Alex was nodding. It made sense to Carl. Chrissie looked skeptical.
'All right then,' said Megan. 'Has everyone finished recording their message?'
Clank, crack, clank!
Everyone looked past Carl toward the noise.
Shit, it's behind me, realized Carl. Something just fell from the ice behind me.
Carl spun.
Something tiny and metallic whizzed toward his boot.
Carl dodged away.
The silver projectile skittered toward Megan.
Stomp!
Megan's orange sneaker slammed down like a guillotine, trapping the projectile under her shoe.
Victoria pointed. 'The train.'
The toy steam train had melted free and fallen. The deadly trap had ejected something on impact. Megan had pinned it under her bright orange sneaker.
Megan's shoe looked flat to the floor, so the object was either very thin or very crushed.
'Don't move,' warned Alex. 'Keep your shoe down.'
'Did anyone see what it was?' asked Carl.
Everyone shook their heads.
'It sounded like metal, said Alex.
'It was silver,' said Chrissie.
'Everyone get back,' warned Megan. 'I'm lifting my shoe.'
'No wait!' warned Alex.
It was too late.
Carl half-expected Megan's foot to explode in a cloud of orange nylon and pink flesh.
It didn't explode.
Not yet anyway.
She lowered her foot as everyone gathered around.
'A key,' said Victoria.
Carl recognized it. 'That winds up the train. I had exactly the same key. Exactly the same.'
‘Into the burial pile,' instructed Megan. 'The train too. Let's get it under ice before it kills someone.'
#
Megan cradled the plate from the wall.
The delicate porcelain plate required special care to remove intact.
'I was right,' said Chrissie. ‘It’s some kind of gladiator fighting a lion.’
Beginning at the Mayan calendar, Megan had arranged the artifacts in the order they'd emerged from the ice. Stickers marked where the World War Two bomb, the Chernobyl lock, the Trojan horse, and the toy steam train would have been.
Megan cleared some space beside the abacus for the plate. 'No one step on this please.'
Carl knelt beside Megan, getting his first proper look at the plate. It looked ancient, but the blue illustration looked crisp and clear. A man wielding a spear was battling a lion. The lion was illustrated in mid-leap. The man had raised his spear to attack.
'That's ridiculous,' said Alex, pointing over Carl's shoulder. 'That guy is totally nude. Who fights a lion in the nude?'
'It's art,' said Victoria emptily. 'It doesn't make sense to you, but the person who owned this plate thought it was beautiful.'
Alex shook his head. 'Who wants to finish their dinner and find a picture of a lion surprising a guy in the shower?'
Carl agreed. It did look a bit like that.
Chrissie asked, 'Why do you have so many stickers in your bag, Megan?'
'My job,' said Megan.
Carl glanced at a sticker near his boot.
The words 'I'M AN ECO-WARRIOR' encircled the planet Earth.
'Are you a school teacher?' asked Carl.
'No,' replied Megan. 'My Dad is.'
'So what do you do?' asked Alex.
Megan hesitated a moment. 'I'm a donations officer.'
What's a donations officer? wondered Carl.
'You're a chugger?' asked Chrissie.
'That's an awful word,' said Megan.
'What's a chugger?' asked Victoria.
'A charity-mugger,' explained Chrissie. 'Those people who lurk in shopping centers and hassle everyone for donations.'
'I hate those people,' said Victoria. 'They just pounce on you.'
Chrissie nodded. ‘I buy my groceries online to avoid them.’
'They're like beggars,' said Victoria.
'It's not begging,' declared Megan. 'It's fundraising.'
'For what cause?' asked Alex.
I hope she fundraises for blind deaf orphans, thought Carl. That will shut them up.
‘Lots of different charities,' answered Megan.
'That's even worse,' said Chrissie. 'It's not even one you believe in.'
Megan shook her head. 'My work helps people. That's more than most people can say.'
'How do you get paid?' asked Carl.
'Commission.'
'So you're a salesperson,' said Carl. 'Nothing wrong with that.'
'It's their methods we hate,' countered Chrissie. 'They set up ambush points and make everyone feel guilty.’
'They don't bother me,' said Carl. 'I just keep walking.'
'I can't do that,' said Victoria. 'I was raised to answer people when they speak to me.'
Chrissie nodded. 'That's what they count on.'
Alex said, 'They don't bother me. I've never been hassled.'
Chrissie nodded at Alex. 'Tell him, Megan. Tell Alex why he's invisible to chuggers.'
Alex looked confused.
Megan sighed. 'Because you don't have a credit card, Alex.'
'Then why the stickers for kids?' asked Alex. 'They don't have credit cards.'
'We're trained to engage children to encourage their parents to donate.’
Chrissie said, ‘She means force parents to donate or look bad in front of their kids.’
‘Really?’ asked Alex.
Megan nodded.
'That's not cool,' said Alex. 'Why do you do that?'
'I'm curious too,' taunted Chrissie. 'Why, Megan?'
Megan looked uncertain for a moment. ‘Because I wanted to do something that matters, and I don't know what else to do. I hate hassling people. I hate talking to people who ignore me, but I don't know what else to do.'
'That's easy,' said Chrissie. 'It's time to grow up and get a real job.'
‘Well, what do you do then, Chrissie? Or is that a big secret too?’
‘It’s no secret,’ replied Chrissie. ‘I’m the CEO for a company that merges other companies together. When one business takes over another, my company cuts out the dead wood.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Megan. ‘Cutting the dead wood?’
‘It means she decides who gets to keep their job and who gets fired,’ explained Carl.
‘Oh. And you like that?’
‘I’m good at it.’
‘But do you like it?’
‘Let me give you a little life lesson, Megan. In life, you’ll grow to like anything you’re good at. Remember that when you get out of here and you might not find yourself begging for donations in a strip mall.’
#
Carl scratched the ice with Ericsson’s belt buckle.
His hand slipped.
TINK!
The buckle hit the bottle. Not hard enough to break the glass, but the noise could betray him.
He hid the buckle and picked up the empty slipper.
The room spun. Every dizzy spell felt worse than the last now. He'd almost fallen twice.
I need food.
He'd only eaten half of his fish. He'd saved the rest for an emergency.
Perhaps that's now.
Walking around the ice, something slid down the ice in front of him.
MELT: A Psychological Thriller Page 16
