Writer's Block

"Good morning, sir. How may i help you?"
"At last! I've been trying to ring this number for a week!"
"I'm sorry about that sir, we're very busy at this time of year. The rush season, you know."
"In April?"
"Er, yes...er, lots of Easter Eggs sent through the mail in April."
"But Easter was in March this year."
"That's right, sir."
"But, you're saying that...no, i'm not getting into that now, not on my phone bill. I'm trying to find what happened to a parcel. It was supposed to arrive a week ago."
"Do you have a reference number for it, sir?"
"Yes, it's ED155786619GB."
"Just a moment, sir."

Some tapping on a keyboard is heard.

"Yes, sir, it's out for delivery."
"I know it's out for delivery. It's been saying that every day for 10 days. Well, where is it?"
"I'm sorry, sir, i don't have that information available."
"Look, i'm only half a mile from the depot. The depot where it arrived two weeks ago!"
"Well, according to the records we couldn't deliver because you weren't at home."
"Not at home? Not at home?! I've not left the house once! Your alleged delivery person never even came near the house!"
"Perhaps you were in the bathroom when he called sir."
"Ten days in a row? I don't live on the toilet, you know!"
"It is possible, sir."
"Fine, ok, it's possible. And i suppose my wife and eldest son were on the toilet too, right? After all, what better family occasion is there than a trip to the bathroom?!"
"There's no need to shout, sir."
"Well, perhaps if you were actually helpful rather than make stupid comments i'd be a little calmer."
"I'm just speculating, sir."
"Well, how about i try that for a change. Let's see...my theory is that your parcel delivery company is so unbelievably useless that they can't find a house on the main road leading to their own depot after ten days of 'trying'."
"I assure you, sir-"
"Or perhaps so unbelievably pissed. I'm sure we're both aware of the presence of The Dog and Trumpet a scant three doors away from your establishment."
"I've no idea what you're talking about."
"I bet you're the only one left behind, manning the phones while the others go and deliver beer to their bellies."
"Er...about your parcel..."
"Suddenly want to change the subject? Ok, i'll bite. Where is my parcel?"
"Well, i need you to confirm the address matching the reference earlier."
"I see, so after ten 'attempts' at delivery, suddenly you think maybe you've been looking for the wrong house?"
"Er...yes."
"I'll tell you what the problem is. Your fellow muppets should have been looking for 6 Charter Street, as opposed to suddenly losing their way at 122 Charter Street and needing to ask the landlord for directions."
"I really can't comment on our route-finding methods, sir - company secrets."
"That's not a problem, i have my own. It's strange, but i just walked out the door, turned left, walked for a couple of minutes, and...there i am, outside the depot."
"You're outside? Now?!"
"Yes, i want my parcel. This way is much more efficient. Now, if you'll just open the door i'm sure we can find it together."
"I can't do that, sir - postal employees only."
"I had a feeling you'd say that. Well, no matter."

CLANG!

"Er...what was that, sir?"
"Just me and my little crowbar."
"Crowbar?!!"
"Yes, were you under the impression i was willing to wait anymore?"
"But...er...you can't do this! It's against the Postal Code! We'll stop you!"
"We? Your colleagues are currently in the pub heaving up their guts. Having a routine makes you vulnerable, you know."
"Eek! Stop that, you can't come in!"
"You should have delivered my parcel."
"Stay out!"
"Too late for that now...i'm inside and i can SEE you."

Gibbering.

"GIVE ME MY PARCEL!"
"It's over there...behind the TV!!"
"What's it doing there? Wait...are those beer stains on the wrapping paper?!"
"It was an accident!! Please...we didn't mean any harm, we just-"

CRUNCH!

"At last, some peace and quiet. Now, let's open this parcel."

Noises of paper being torn.

"Ah, there you are."

Sounds of turning pages.

"'add a drop of lavender to your bath, and soon you'll soak yourself calm.' Hey, that sounds good."

The owner of the teeth enters the cave a moment later, and i...recognize them. It's one of the vagrants they...we...experimented on, one of the few that survived the earliest tests - now turned got something monstrous. More memories explode into my mind, and reluctantly i push them back...for now. Better to deal with the threat first - he looks mad, in every sense of the word. I strain for one particular memory, and find it.
"Pete!"
He stops his slow advance, and looks at me quizzically. The huge mis-shapen jaw opens a little, and something struggles out.
"Pe-te? I-i-i'm Pete. Who you?"
As his only memory of me would have been when i helped strap him to the operating table, it's perhaps best not to answer truthfully.
"The name's Bobby - but you won't remember me. I saw them take you, before you were like this. They got me too, later."
He's still looking at me suspiciously. Suddenly he gives a loud sniff, and glares at me.
"You smell of THEM."
Them? That's not a good thing to smell of when trapped in a cave with a madman.
"Them? Er..."
"All guns and smoke and blood and rage...another one sent to find me. Another one sent to die."
This really isn't going right, and...is he salivating? Time to get out of here, somehow.
I back into the cave a little way, and pick up a large bone. He laughs and leaps towards me, arms outstretched. Taking advantage of my small size, i dive under his legs and jab upwards with the bone. He howls, and i run hurriedly out of the cave as he collapses. Not for long...i hear his feet pounding behind me, gaining ground by the second. I look back and he's only a dozen feet away. There's a cliff nearby...maybe i can trick him...if i can reach it. Just a little further...
And there it is. I run full pelt towards the edge, him close behind, then suddenly slam on the brakes and duck down. He falls over me, and the momentum carries him over the edge screaming.
Sadly the impact takes me over too. It's a long way down...far too much time to think.

The snarling's getting louder - sounds like it's coming back here. Quickly, i hide myself behind a row of boxes and keep still.
There's a scrabbling at the side of the truck, then a heavy thud as something lands inside. Silence reigns for a moment, then there's a bellow of rage. Next thing i know, the bearded man's head goes flying over my head and hits the wall with a sickening crunch. As my eyes inadvertently track its landing, i hear a growl. I wrench my eyes to the left, and see a blood-covered version of myself looking down on me. I barely have time to catch my breath before it attacks. A fist comes flying at me, and i instinctively raise my arm.
There's an almighty clang, and next thing i know i'm covering my ears with my hands. A few feet away, i see my assailant trying to do the same while nursing a badly-broken hand. I look at the dented plate on my left arm, then back. Its eyes stare at me, filled with hate and pain. Something stirs within me, and i leap towards my protagonist. My spiked tail lashes out, crushing its face beyond recognition, then the mist descends on me again and i remember no more...

I come to on a small hill. A few hundred yards away i can see the plane and truck, with a few faint figures moving around. A short distance away, a new truck lies idle. Suddenly there's a bang, and the first truck explodes in a giant ball of flame. The light illuminates the area briefly, silhouetting me against the hill. I hear a yell, and spot a group of men only fifty feet away pointing at me. One of them yammers into a mouthpiece, while the others drop down and point their guns at me. Reflex takes over, and a moment too late their bullets spatter where i stood.
I find myself running down the other side of the hill at a terrifying rate, and a minute later bounding out into the countryside, as far from the men as i can get.
It feels like i run for hours, all the while the sun slowly moving overhead. As it finally begins to set, i look for somewhere to rest. Curling up in a rather small cave behind a large bush, i settle uneasily to sleep, alert for the smallest noise of pursuit.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring...