Tales of an unexpected nature

Just one more delivery

My name is Johnny. Johnny Belamy. Its been a while since i have said much to anyone. I'm a world away from my old life. My old life as a delivery boy.

As a delivery boy, i can say i have officially seen it all, birthday presents, important memos, cheeky cards. Theres nothing i havent seen.... or at least that was what i thought.

I'll never forget that fateful day in march all those years ago, belive me i've tried. I had never really seen myself as vunrable, exposed, not like that anyway, not in my job. But norms are something i can no longer believe in.

I'll tell you something, something i havent said much about after the police questioning, after everything. I'll tell you all that happend, everything from those fateful days leading to... well. You'll find out...

Alarm bells should have rung, i know this now. It was March 17th 1997 and i remember the day like it was only yesterday. A tall man, slim, pale with a slight limp had walked into the shop and stood in the door way. He just stared. His furious blue eyes burned everything before them, including me, as i was now frozen to the spot, fixed by the stare of doom lain on me now. I could feel every muscle in my body tense and every hair i possed stand on end as he sauntered over to the counter of the shop, running a boney hand through his greasy grey hair. I despirately tried to swallow the growing lump in my throat, but only succeded in makeing my eyes bulge and water. This was going to interesting...

'Morning' his gravely voice broke the tense silence. 'Morning sir' a squeked. I was suddenly all too awere of his hands drumming strange tunes on the desk, the nails grubby and mud covered. This was the second alarm bell. 'I have some packages, i need them takeing....' he practicly whispered 'that is what you do, correct?' He purred. I swallowed hard. 'Why of course sir, may i see the packages?' I babbled. 'Oh, thats a problem, you'll have to pick them up from a certain location.' He cooed. 'I... I don't know if thats possible.' I stuttered. 'Well its going to have to be' He hissed slamming his hands down on the counter. I was practically wetting myself by this point. 'Yes! Of course!' I screamed. 'Good boy' he purred once more 'be at 146 bakers street at 10:30 am on monday, wednesday and friday, payment on delivery.' And with this the man stalked out of the shop followed only by the flowing tails of his coat.

And there i was, standing, stunned wondering what the hell had just happend. Was i going mad? I couldn't really be thinking about doing this? But i saw at the time no other option, after all a crazy dude knew where i worked. So, monday it was.

Monday, 10:30 am, 146 bakers street, third set of alarm bells buzzing through my brain. What was i doing?! The house looked normal enough... if you like ghost towns. The street had no life, even all plants had given up. The house itself had most of the windows borded up or covered by heavy dust sheets, the front porch litred with all kinds of debris from family life. Old kids toys, smashed bath sets, old kitchien units, the normal kind of stuff. But the dirt and grimm made me think it had been a while since any family had ever been here...

I had already wandred too far up the path to turn back, but then there was no one around to see if i just....

Thats when the gruby front door flew open. 'Oi, kid'. I jumped when i saw the guy standing there. His face was ashen and pulled into a septic smile, enough to turn milk sour. Long, black hair stuck to his head and yellow tomb stone teeth glinted in the limited sun light avaliable from the gloom of the door frame. I jumped back in fright. 'Its you right, the delivery boy'. I froze at this. 'How did you..' i stuttered. 'Mr. C gives acurate descriptions, now you taking this or what?' I swallowed and took the rest of the steps holding out my hands for what ever was going to be giving to me. 'Here, hold it this way up, don't drop it, take this straight to the werehouse on jameses street, i'll see you again wednesday.' He sighed, handing me the package and slamming the door in my face.

It hadn't sunk in. Who? What? Why? I hadn't got a clue. What was i doing? How could i do this? My head was buzzing. All i could think about was getting rid of this package. I was practiacally running by this point. Jameses street was only round the corner and i could make it in only a few minutes. The sooner the better.

On arrival i saw the man from the shop, who i now knew to be Mr. C, standing in the shadows of the werehouse. I nearly cried with relief. I was free of this. Only two more. Right? He smiled as i sprinted towards him waving the package in his face. 'Well done, i like you punctuality' he whispered, thrusting a wad of cash into my hands where the package had been, that strangly heavy, thickly wrapped package... now was not the time for questions. I wanted to get away as fast as possible. I squecked my excuses and left with the thought of having to do this twice more heaving its way around my already fried brain. Why was i doing this?

Wednesday. I was fast. I was paid well. This wasnt so bad. I wasnt going to ask questions. I had desided this long before. Especially with these two. The creepy pair. They looked more like corpses then people. If only i had listend to my brain...

It was friday. I was ready. I was nearly at 146, but something didn't feel right. Something felt odd. The door was firmly closed. It didn't sit right with me. I looked around and saw the package on the door step with a note pinned to the top. I sighed. Last one. I ran my usual route to the werehouse, as fast as my legs would carry me, but nothing prepaired me for what happend next...

Police swarmed the area, no space was free from them. I swallowed hard. What was going on? Looking around, i saw him, Mr. C in the back of one of the cars, glaring at the world. My skin crawled. An officer noticed my presents. 'Can i help you kid?' He bellowed over the noise of the other chatering coppers. 'I had a package, for him.' I calmly dead panned, pointing at Mr. C. 'Hand it over then' the police officer said suddenly, very sternly, holding out his arms. 'Sure, don't shoot the messenger' i confidently said. He grabed the package ripping it open and recoiling in horror...

Human flesh. All of it. A full bodies worth of skin. It still makes me shiver. The note. I was apparently part of the deal. I was later infromed that the same thing was in the others, the packages that is, the flesh, i knew this deep down. There were plans every where in the werehouse. Plans for something truely sick and twisted. A coat. A coat of skin....

Naturally, i was arested. I was there for it all, after all... a little more then they first thought.

But thats what they think...

I was always there. I mastered it.  My plan. It was beautiful. I hired those fools. They couldn't do the job it turned out. So much for "so overt its covert". Last time i'll trust anyone. Prison gives you time to think. Time to be. All my queations, i laugh about it now. I had ruined my own opperation. My fault really. But how sad it makes me, knowing i will never have that coat...