High Steaks: A Bjorn Trilogeé Adventure

Chapter 7: Bjorn

As Bjorn's body lay in the back of the van, the taller mailman looked at the slip that Bjorn had signed and shook his head at how sloppy the penmanship was. "Good thing no one checks these," he thought to himself and he slipped it into his pocket.

"So what happened to Frankie," asked the shorter mailman.

"Oh I don't know, he's such a booze bag ... he probably doesn't remember even fucking doing it."

They both got into the front of the postal truck and drove off. The shorter man was slightly disappointed that he never got to use the garrote wire that he had smartly woven into his handlebar mustache. It takes forever to get an authentic garrote/mustache look and for some reason it only comes in handlebar mode. It was designed in the 1800s before hipsters ruined the handlebar look. He could have gotten a custom made up-to-date moustache, but then he'd have to pay out of pocket instead of using his Postal Credit Card. That wasn't happening.

The homeless man saw the entire scene and was so shocked that he decided to turn his life around. He went back to opera school and became an incredibly famous opera singer. That's a story for another day though.

Bjorn drifted in and out of consciousness as he rolled around on the cold metal floor in the rear of the postal truck. A normal person would have been out cold for at least a few hours after getting the injection. However, because of his training, Bjorn's body was able to process the drug a lot faster.

After an hour or so the truck backed up to a loading dock. Bjorn could hear the two guys opening the back door. They both grabbed Bjorn's body and pulled him out, dragging his bare feet across a cement floor. Eventually they entered through a set of swinging industrial doors and into a large busy room in the Central Mail Processing Plant in Boston. Many of the workers here are completely clueless to the real motive behind this complex. It doesn't just serve as a place where mail is processed and sorted; it also doubles as a secret base for The Service.

"Oh hey guys," said the female security guard as she sat behind her desk watching as the two mailmen walked by holding up an unconscious Bjorn.

"Hey Beth, how'd the Celtics do?" asked the taller guy.

"They sucked tonight," she said, "who is your buddy?"

The taller man laughed and hit Bjorn on the chest, "It's Charlie, he has third shift tonight. We had to go pick him up at Lucky's."

Beth seemed to accept that explanation well enough. It seemed reasonable, though it didn't explain why he had a cloth sack over his head.

After riding the elevator down to the basement, the men got out and carried Bjorn's body into the 'men's room'. One of them flushed the third toilet three times in quick succession and then pulled Bjorn into a broom closet. The tall mailman flicked the light switch three times, causing the broom closet wall to open up revealing an elevator on the other side.

"This guy weights a ton," said the shorter guy.

"No he doesn't. He's a shrimp! You're a fag."

"Yes I'm gay, I'm a big homo and I love gay sex."

"Ha ha, I knew it! Finally," said the taller guy.

They rode the elevator down and stepped off into another fairly boring looking room. Large, drab, concrete, the sub-basement.

"Go grab that pumpkin" said the taller guy gesturing to the hamper. While unlike a pumpkin in that its 'large, plastic and has wheels' it is also quite like a pumpkin in that its 'orange'. Hence where it got it's named. The two guys picked up Bjorn and tossed him into the hamper with a dull thud.