I deliver this frightening freight on Flash Fiction February, day three. Aren’t you lucky? You’re welcome. On with the story (that you should listen to for best results).

Frank and José have a busy Sunday ahead. They both really hustle for extra cash to make sure their families are OK. They usually rent a truck and do residential moves. It’s a pretty nice gig because there’s a rental place in the neighborhood that’s super reasonable.

It’s $150 for the day and a $250 deposit as insurance. After a couple of moves, they can each net between $300 and $400. They’ve been doing this for a couple of years. Today is a little bit different, though. Instead of doing a residential move in town between neighborhoods, they’re making a delivery from an office downtown all the way out to the wealthy rural county.

"Wow," said Frank, “this is going to take as much time as two moves, but it’s a bunch of light stuff; we’re just taking a longer drive, and we’ll make twice as much as we usually do. Too bad it’s raining though”.

“You got it, baby; make sure to thank my wife for this; she’s the one who set it up." José responds. “Got to get it done whether it’s raining or not”.

“For sure,” Frank says. I’ll get her some of that strawberry milk she likes, right?”

“There you go; that would be good; do that." Said José

They get downtown, brave the rain, running to the building and take the elevator up to the office, where the items are.

“This is it, I think; the lady told Marisol there would be a key on top of the exit sign at the end of the hall, right there." Said José.

“Boost me up there, and I’ll grab it." Frank says.

Jose cradles his boot

“Got it!” Says Frank

They enter the room, and it’s not much. They kind of can’t believe it.

“Is this all there is? We’d better look around and make sure." Said Frank.

He puts down his tool bag. It's good to have a small cache of tools on jobs like this because you never know when you're going to need them, and you might pick up some extra work doing something else.

The only thing they see is a set of speakers and a portrait on a wall. They look all over the office, in the side and back rooms, the kitchenette, the break room, and even the bathrooms. The only things in the place are two speakers that stand 3 feet high and are about 18 inches wide, and the portrait, which hangs on the wall, between two windows being pounded by a windy, drizzly storm of cold, bleak grayness.

“This is weird,” said José. “I have the lady’s number here; I better call her to make sure this is right; it don’t seem right."

José is holding the phone out so they can both hear with the speaker setting on, and there is no answer. “What do you think, dude? I don’t know. Do you really think it’s just the two speakers and the painting of that old creepy dude?" He says.

“I think we’d better just do the gig; we have to pay for that truck deposit.” Frank says. They have to pay us for our time; one way or another, this has to get worked out. Let’s wait a while and call again; if there’s no answer, let’s get the speakers to that address and see what needs doing. I can’t believe they’re paying us this much to deliver a couple of speakers and a painting, though; that’s crazy."

“Rich people,” José says. “They’re so cheap. They eat dollar store food and pinch pennies and use coupons, and then they do stupid stuff like this, whatever."

“They also like to not pay their workers." Frank says. “We have to make sure we get paid for at least the cost of this truck and gas if they are trying to get a freebie.”

“My wife has known them for a while; I don’t think they are playing games. If it’s a misunderstanding or something is wrong, they’ll take care of us for the trouble.” José assures Frank.

They pace around, looking out the window at the monochromatic city under the dim light of a veiled sun. They check around some more, looking in cupboards and desks for anything they need to take for the delivery, but there is nothing. They try to call the number again.

“Still no answer." José tells Frank

Frank responds, "Well, let’s just get after it; get out there and see what happens, I guess, huh?” I’ll bet we can just get it all at once. I can put a speaker under one arm, grab the portrait, and you can get the other speaker."

“Sounds like a plan." José says

Frank goes to the painting and takes it in both hands to remove it from the wall. ”Oh crap, this thing is bolted down; it looks like there are screws in the sides holding it into brackets.” He says as he gets a screw gun from his tool kit.

“Look at that old geezer." José says. “No wonder they left him behind.” He looks like he didn’t have a lot of friends."

“That is bad mojo, dude; you should never speak ill of the dead.” Frank says.

“How do you know he’s dead, though?” José says.

“It’s an old painting of an old guy; he’s got to be dead; he’s probably the founder of whatever this business was. Do you know what it was—the business?” Frank asks.

“It was like life insurance and estate planning, like wills and all that.” José answers.

“Lot’s of money in death." Frank says, “Lot’s of money in death."

“Not for him." José says. They both laugh.

There is a flash of distant lighting, followed by the delayed thunder.

“I’m here right now." A voice comes from the speaker.

“Hah! That’s pretty good; how’d you do that? On your phone?” Frank asks.

“I didn’t do it; I thought you did it." José says.

“Hah! That's pretty funny.” Frank laughs.

“I’m here right now." The speaker sounds again.

“OK!” José says, “That’s not funny, Frank; this guy is dead; you said it yourself; don’t speak ill of the dead.”

“It’s not me! If it’s not me and it’s not you, then it has to be a joke; somebody’s playing games.” Frank says.

“It’s in the speaker.” José says, “One of these two damn things.

They each take off a speaker cover. They look all over them and in the bass ports using a mini flashlight.

“I’m taking these things apart.” Frank says as he uses his screw gun to begin unscrewing the speaker braces.

“I’m going to call Marisol right now and see what this is about.” I don’t know why she’s pranking me; there’s nothing going on, like a birthday or anniversary or anything.” José says.

Frank has one speaker separated from its cabinet already, and he’s examining it. He drops it and keeps working.

José is on the phone. “Damn it, it’s the voicemail, damn it." Hey, baby, what is going on? What’s the deal here? There’s no one here, and we heard the voice in the speaker. What is this? What’s going on? Tell me we aren’t going to lose money today. Call me back, OK! Call me as soon as you get this! This ain’t funny!”

Frank is now working on the other speaker, and he tells José, “It’s got to be a wireless receiver in here somewhere; it has to be. There’s nothing in the first one.”

As he is taking the last of the speakers out of the cabinet, Frank says, “I wish I’d never come here; I wish we had just done two normal moving gigs, and I wish this old coot was here so I could tell him what I really think.” He looks at the painting with the old man staring down at him. A hard gust of starmy wind and rain smashes against the windows.

“I’m here, right now.”

“Screw this”. José says. “Look out, Frank, look out."

José kicks the speaker, and it breaks open. They are looking through the pieces and trying to find the receiver.

Suddenly, the portrait slips from the hanger that is no longer screwed in. It hangs on the remaining bracket, sliding at an angle down the wall and slams into the adjacent window frame. There is a crash of lighting and no delay on the thunder.

“I’m here now,” the speaker says.

“Let’s go!.” Frank says

“That's it!" Says José

The two run; they don’t look back; they are out the door of the office and down the corridor.

The End.

I’m really glad about these two high quality new follows & ‘stacks that I have this week. These two write some good stuff and have great spirits. My prose is jagged, but the center of Joshua T Calkins-Treworgy’s page is so smooth, it’s like reading silk. Nichola Anne Napora relishes in this place that can’t be replaced.

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