Deadlines

“Deadlines. This is Marie. How may I help you?” Marie’s velvety voice floated efficiently across the cluttered desk towards her speakerphone.

“Do you pick up and deliver?” A nondistinct male baritone with an unknown caller ID tag.

“Yes, sir. Are you in the Cincinnati area?”

“Need pickup in Indian Hill and delivery to Morrow.” 

Marie looked quickly at Bob’s schedule and location before responding. “Sir, you need pickup in Indian Hill and where is the package being delivered to?”

“Morrow, Ohio.” The caller sounded slightly impatient.

Marie laughed lightly. “I thought you meant you needed it delivered tomorrow…yes, I see, Morrow, Ohio, right here, not too far, yes. Got it. Size and weight of packages please and date of delivery?”

“One box. Weighs about a hundred pounds. Books and files. And yes, need it delivered BY TOMORROW.” 

“Sir, our delivery team can get to your location in Indian Hill by 10pm this evening. Estimate delivery in Morrow, Ohio by 11:30pm. This is our MOST expedited service. Does this work for you?”

“Yep.” Came the terse reply.

“How would you like to pay for your service today? Your estimate is $1,525.76.”

“Paypal.” 

Marie took the addresses and Paypal information too quickly and then paused and asked, “Are there any special delivery instructions?”

“Make sure Joe signs for the package…or I’ll break your legs.”

The line went dead.

Marie’s mouth hung open. She was not sure she would include that last bit. It was the first time a customer had agreed to her first price offer and when he did she thought it was far too good to be true. Well, it was Bob’s problem now. 

Bob Smith and his sidekick Hauser Wulf had just finished dropping off two crates of live chickens to a local restaurant when the phone rang. It was almost 7pm and Bob and Hauser had been talking about finding some beer and wings and more beer. “Yelllllo!” 

“Did y’all drop off the chickens?”

“Yep, done and dusted. What’s up?”

“You gotta get to Indian Hill, 13 Spooky Hollow Rd by 10pm. $1300 if you can get a box to Morrow by midnight but a guy’s gotta sign for it. Guy named Joe.”

“Well, yeah, we CAN DO. Big box?”

“hundred pounds.”

“yep…send me the addresses.”

Bob Smith and his sister Marie had started a low budget delivery business a few months ago with only a cargo van and their cell phones. Marie had been watching the home delivery businesses catch like wildfire since the Pandemic and was determined to cash in on this craze. She benchmarked UPS, FedEx and others. She could beat what they were charging! There would be very little overhead.. Marie seemed to take to social media publicity and just had a knack for finding free or low-cost advertising opportunities. Marie bought a $25 transient vendor license and soon their new business, Deadlines, LLC, was launched. 

“Sorry, House, one more job tonight.”

Hauser Wulf slumped into the passenger seat and turned towards the window. He thought about all those chickens and felt real bad. Beer could make him feel better but not wings. Maybe not wings ever. Again. Hauser was tired. Now he wanted pizza. With mushrooms.

Bob and Hauser drove onto the highway just as the traffic came to a near standstill. Bob Smith glanced as his young worker wondering how much he should pay him for today. It was hard being a new small businessman. There were lots of considerations. It was not steady. No sir. And there was bad weather coming. And bad checks. Marie said not to take no more checks that she would do all the money up front. Sometimes the boxes were so heavy he needed House to help him. Sometimes there was furniture or animals or pianos. One time there was a heart. A real live living heart. He saved a life. This was going good, so far, most of the time. Soon Bob would have enough money to take his daughter to Disneyland. 

“House, find me a better way to go on this map, Buddy.” Bob handed his phone to Hauser. “We gotta get to Spooky Hollow Rd by 10. How’s that for funny, huh, SPOOKY HOLLOW, on the day before Halloween???!!” Bob cackled. He did not seem to mind skipping dinner or beer. Bob was thinking about $1300 for 3 hours of work. He was too happy for beer! 

“No roads to Indian Hill better than just this one…. No wait, there’s…no, that’s Spooky Meadow… Bob, you got a phone charger around here somewhere?” 

“Yep, right there.” Bob pointed to a cable running to the filthy dashboard.

“Looks like it’s not working, Bob, and you’re almost out of charge.” Hauser shook the phone as if this might help.

“Crap!” Bob pounded the steering wheel. “Wait, ok, ok, We’re almost at the exit. We gotta get a new charger and some gas.” He tried to calm himself. 

They inched slowly onto the ramp at the Indian Hill exit and finally pulled into a Speedway. “Do they have pizza?”  The hungry Hauser begged as Bob jumped out of the van to grab the gas pump. 

“Go get you some pizza, yeah, and a pop too and see if you can find us a charger, Buddy. I don’t know this place from Adam and I’m not blowing $1300…” Bob was sorry he’d blurted out the amount. He peeled off a twenty and handed to Hauser who shuffled quickly off to the store. The large lumpy millennial moved faster than he had all day, thought Bob. A big fella needs to eat, I guess.

Hauser emerged from the Speedway with a bright pink phone charger, a small pizza box, and a can of diet soda. They plugged Bob’s phone in quickly and the reassuring voice of the Google directions lady guided them to the nearest intersection where they turned left down a long dark twisting road. 

“In 1000 feet turn Right on Spooky Hollow.”

“You’ve arrived.”

“You heard the lady, House. We’ve arrived.”

The van pulled onto a dark street and into a driveway that began beside a boulder bearing the number 13. 

Bob turned on his high beams as the van crept closer to what appeared to be a very large, very dark Victorian private residence. Bob looked at the clock. It was 9:50pm. OK. He took a breath and coughed on the exhale. A pair of shining eyes reflected in the lights and then disappeared.

“THERE!” Hauser exclaimed and poked a greasy finger on the passenger window. “The BOX!” 

A small path just to the right of the approaching van wandered toward what appeared to be a pond. About 20 feet south, lay a large gray wooden box.

Bob and Hauser loaded the box into the van. The box had a manilla envelope duct-taped to it containing the address in Morrow, Ohio.

Bob turned around on the lawn hoping not to leave tire tracks and backtracked to the highway. “Allrighty, House, not too bad, huh? Not too bad.”

“Felt way heavy for a hundred pounds.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a strong guy, you know that? Couldn’t do it without you, Buddy. Now how are we gonna get to Morrow?”

“Tomorrow? What?”

“How do we get to Morrow Ohio? Hit START for the directions, House. Let’s git’r DONE! Then it’s MILLERTIME!”

The dynamic duo drove diligently toward the tiny town of Morrow. The address appeared to belong to a property on the border of the Little Miami River. Okie dokie. Bob considered the watering hole options for after they made this drop. Then he recalled a pretty fall day many years ago when he and his ex-girlfriend spent some time near that river with friends. There was a little place called The Monkey Bar that had an actual monkey. And that is ALL Bob remembered. 

The delivery address was 1869 Malachy Church Road. Right on the river. Yep. Street should be right here. When they approached within a mile of the expected location of the road, the GPS could only repeat, “Recalculating...Recalculating…Recalculating…” They pulled to the side of the dark narrow road. Recalculating??? 

“There ain’t nothing here, Bob.” 

Bob called Marie. “Can you check that delivery address? We can’t find any such street. GPS Said it had it and then now can’t find it. Nobody there at the pickup except the box. Heavy sucker.”

Marie went back through her notes. “This is what I got…Deliver to Joe, PERSONALLY, at 1869 Malachy Church, Morrow, Ohio, 45152. Maybe it’s at the Church and that’s at another address. Hang on.” A few minutes later Marie returned to Bob’s call. “OK, try this. 1869 Malachy Church CEMETARY Rd, Morrow. Gotta run. REAL important to give it to Joe. Guy won’t pay us if you don’t. See ya, Bobby.”

Bob paused after Marie hung up. What does she mean, “won’t pay us?” She said she gets the money up front now, right? Didn’t she get the money up front??? THANKS, SIS. Thanks a lot. 

Bob put the address with ‘Cemetery’ in it and continued on as directed by his almighty phone. At last they found what appeared to be an overgrown path with a barely visible street sign. “Cemetery Rd.” 

“I don’t like this place, Bob.” 

“We’re almost there, Man. It’s gonna be alright. I think I see a light up ahead…Must be Joe waiting on us.”

Bob was lying as he clenched the steering wheel, eyes squinting in dense darkness. The road seemed to be heading down towards a river as it narrowed and grew more bumpy. He could hear the underside of the van crunch now and then against the rocky uneven surface beneath them and tree branches scraped against roof. 

It was 11:26 pm when the van came to a complete stop. WHAT NOW?! Hauser rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “Smoke!” He cried. “Bob the van’s gonna blow up!! Call my Momma! The van’s on fire!!!” 

“House, calm down, Buddy. Let’s get out and see what’s going on. It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s gonna be OK!”

Bob grabbed his phone and tried to use it as a flashlight to look under the van. Smoke burned his eyes and something told him to grab Hauser and try to get clear. But he needed to get the box out of the van! “House, help me with the box! C’mon, please, help me!”

Bob flung open the back doors of the old van and tugged at the box. Then he ran to the side door, jumped in and pushed it out the back. The box tumbled to the ground and landed with a loud THWACK. The two men picked up the box and began to carry it, breathless and stumbling into the crunching leafy darkness. They bumbled along for almost an hour until…

“Bob, my hands, my hands can’t hold it no more. Watch out…NO!!” And with that Hauser let go of his end causing Bob to lurch forward and a sharp corner of the box dug deeply into his shoulder. Bob wailed in agony and sank to the ground. Hauser spewed apologies as the older man rocked in pain. “Call Marie!” Bob managed to whisper hoarsely to Hauser but in all the scrambling and midnight blackness, the cell phone was nowhere to be found. 

“Bob, I can’t hardly see.” 

“We gotta keep it together. Let’s try to find our way back to the van. If it’s not smoking, we stay there until light.”

Hauser didn’t really have a choice. He walked closely behind the older man until Bob tripped and fell…landing hard on his hands and knees.

“What was that??? Bob? Where are you?!” Hauser did not even try to disguise his fear.

“I’m down here, House. Tripped over something.” Bob groaned as he pulled himself upright and brushed off his knees. In the very faint light he could barely recognize what appeared to be a tombstone? Well, figures! He thought, I suppose this IS Cemetery Road, right???

The tired twosome eventually found their way to van where the billowing smoke had become thin and wispy. They climbed inside and locked the doors. The quiet was eerie.

“Get some sleep, House. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Hauser was silent for a bit until, “Bob, what’s really in the box?”

Bob had honestly wondered this himself. “I don’t rightly know, House.”

“Bob?”

“Yes, House?”

“I saved you some pizza.”

“Thanks, Hauser. You’re a good man.”

“Yeah, Bob. You are too.”