Chapter 1: The Offer
It had rained for three days. Pounded against Ethan Cross's apartment broken windows witha tantrum-like drummer,the consistent beat reflecting the hollow ache of his belly.
He sat glowering at the dimmed CRT TV,the wom-out PlayStation controller loosely
clutched in his fist,the "Game Over"display blinding him once again.
He exhaled,tossing the controller onto the table.Another defeat,another day.Not just in the
game —in life
Strewn on the floor like remnants of some bygone civilization were heaps of junked old
consoles,tangled cords,and crumpled pizza boxes.There was a hint of dust,plastic,and
stale coffee hanging in the air.
His phone vibrated,thumping on the coffee table,breaking the heavy silence.
One new message
Subject:Urgent Job Opportunity -Immediate Start
He curled an eyebrow.Scam,obviously.Probably some pathetic phishing scam.But there
was something about it-the timing,the growling hunger in his sides—forcing him to open it
anyway.
"Are you prompt?Are you responsible?Do you enjoy the hallowed art of delivery?We offer
$5,000 per week.Car provided.No experience required.Apply in person today."
Address:106 West Bramble Street.
Time:2:00 PM sharp
No number. No name. Just an address that registered in his head.wasn't that the empty
insurance building that folded up last winter?
Five thousand a week. Ethan leaned his head in his hands,groaning over his temples.His
bank balance branded itself in his head:$42.17.His stomach growled,thin and hungry.
Either this…or get rid of the PlayStation.And that,honest to God,would be too much defeat
for one week
He glanced around the apartment —the sagging couch,the grimy overhead light struggling
to stay on —and made up his mind.
"Desperate times,"he said to himself,grabbing a worn-through hoodie and car keys."Maybe
they just really,really love pizza."
*********************************************************************************************************
Outside,the city was a rusting machine,hacking and wheezing under a gray sky.
Flickering neon signs that had bumed images onto their screens blinked in the fog,offering
deceptions to dying companies.Homeless men shufled between puddles like specters.A
shattered billboard displayed:"AMERICA:DREAM BIG."Its comer whipped back and forth
in the wind.
Confused Ethan's beat-up Corolla jerked and yawed as he avoided potholes bigger than
craters on the moon.All traffic lights flashed yellow,and all sidewalks were cracked and
spewing weeds
He saw 106 West Bramble with little difficulty:a bumt,crumbling spire wedged between a
pawn shop and an abandoned diner whose windows were covered in plywood.It loomed like
a gangrenous tooth in a mouth of decay.A single bare bulb buzzed above the rusty door,
illuminating the rain-soaked sidewalk with a diseased glow.
He hesitated.For a long,strange moment,he was certain that he could hear whispering
behind the door —but it could have been just the rain.
Grinding his teeth,Ethan pushed in.
The lobby was empty:a creaking desk,a dusty potted plant hanging by sheer determination,
and a guy in a too-new,just-washed suit standing behind the desk.The suit was so new,so
freshly laundered,as though ironed up that day somewhere in the part of the city that didn't
know this decayed city.
The man did not look up."You Ethan Cross?"he asked gruffly.
"Yeah,"Ethan said cautiously.
The man thrust a clipboard at him."Sign here.Interview on the twelfth floor."
Ethan took the clipboard.The application had no company name.No terms.No fine print.
Only one,ominous line:
"/willingly accept all risks connected with this employment."
He glared."That's all?"
The man smiled icily."That's all."
Ethan hesitated,pen hovering in the air.
But again,he thought about the rent.The growling in his belly.The PlayStation he'd probably
have to sell.
And he signed
The elevator groaned and the doors jerked upward.The overhead lamp shimmied wildly,
casting epileptic shadows on the soiled metal walls.
When at last the doors creaked open on the twelfth floor,Ethan was presented with a long,
dark corridor with frayed red carpet.There was a mild coppery,booky odor.
Far down at the other end of the hall,one door hung ajar,golden light spilling from the
interior like honey.
He opened it.
Inside,the room was bare save for a gargantuan oak desk.And behind it —an old man who
appeared both aged and ageless.
Parchment-thin skin,fragile-appearing.But his eyes —electric blue,piercing -were so
alive they sizzled.
"Welcome,Mr.Cross,"the old man drawled,voice silky and smooth."I am Mr.Caliban."
Ethan nodded,dry throat."Uh,thanks.So…pizza delivery?"
Caliban smiled tightly,stepping out from behind the desk.He walked with a slow,calculated
elegance,circling Ethan like a vulture around a wounded rabbit.
"You are going to enter the oldest and noblest profession known to man,"he announced.
"Delivery,"Ethan repeated stupidly.
Caliban laughed,a dry rustling noise."Without messengers,the world's empires collapse.
Messages not delivered.Supplies not brought.Love letters misplaced."
He stalled next to Ethan,voice dropping to a whisper."We are civilization's bloodstream."
Ethan shifted restlessly."Okay…but there's gotta be a catch."
Caliban gestured out the window.
Outside,on the rain-splashed street,Ethan saw it:a black,glossy sports car at the curb.It
purred,even from a distance,its body glinting like an oil slick under urban lights.
"That,"Caliban said,"will be your vessel."
"Vessel?"Ethan echoed.
Caliban smiled more broadly,but not in his eyes."Altered.Enhanced.Equipped with nitrous
boosters.You must deliver all packages within the time frame."
"And what if I don't?"
Caliban's tone became hard,slicing through the room like a knife "If you fail…the bomb
attached to your seat will detonate."
Ethan blinked.For a moment he thought he'd gotten it wrong.
"A bomb?"he breathed.
Caliban smiled blandly,as if discussing the weather."Tick-tock,Mr.Cross.Tick-tock."
Before Ethan could protest,Caliban flipped a hidden switch on the desk.
The room shook.Secret panels in the walls slid open with metallic clacks,revealing a
glowing screen.
In bold,blood-red letters:
FIRST DELIVERY:ACCEPT OR DECLINE
Destination:UNKNOWN
Time Limit:15 minutes
Package:Ready
A jarring mechanical clunk sounded behind him.Ethan spun around —a black,
coffin-shaped box had emerged from the wall.
The clock on the screen began ticking down:
00:14:59
00:14:58
00:14:57
Caliban's whisper was nothing more than that now,but it poured over the room like a storm:
"Time to choose,Mr.Cross…Decide.or be lost to the ages."
Ethan's heart pounded in his chest.His fingers trembled.Something primal inside him
shrieked to run —but his feet refused to move,staying stubbomly rooted where they were.
The rain pounded at the windows outside,harder.The world hung suspended,its breath
held.
He had only seconds
