Chase stopped running through the jungle and took a few seconds to catch his breath. Leaning against a tree he looked up and through a gap in the foliage he saw his destination in the distance – the big white house on the hill. From behind him came the sounds of pursuit. How did I get into this mess? he thought.
He was sitting in the store earlier that afternoon when the call had come in. He wasn’t able to hear the particulars about the call but he could hear his boss arguing with his manager afterwards.
“I tell you he can handle it!” This was from his manager.
“But he’s never done this run before! I tell you it’s too dangerous!”
“He knows the route, he’ll be fine! Besides, he’s the only one here right now, we have no choice.”
To be honest this last statement deflated his ego a bit but he needed the money and since he was only paid per delivery plus tips he figured he would overlook it.
“OK fine! But this is on YOUR head. If this goes wrong you deal with it!”
His manager came out of the back with the package and handed it to him.
“This is for the big white house on the hill in the jungle, you know the one?”
“Good. It’s time sensitive so get your ass in gear. And don’t go through the village. I know it will save you some time but the natives are agitated right now. Got it?”
“Yes sir!” Chase replied as he took the package and headed for the door.
Once outside the store he carefully strapped the package to the carrier on the back of his bike, hopped on and took off down the dusty road heading out of town.
A few minutes later Chase was sitting on the main road in a long line of vehicles and various pack animals going nowhere. Checking his watch impatiently for the fifth time he decided he could wait no longer and that the shortcut through the village was his only option. Turning his bike around he retraced his path until he came to the turn off he was looking for.
As he approached the village Chase saw totems alongside the road that were clearly warning signs for travelers to keep away. He could tell this from the human skulls that decorated them. The signs on them that said ‘Keep Away’ in five different languages were a pretty good indication as well.
As he got closer Chase could hear chanting and the beating of drums. He decided that cycling through one of their ceremonies would definitely be seen as an insult so he got off his bike, grabbed the package and went ahead on foot. It would have been better for Chase to have stayed on the bike – he would have had to do a lot less running. As it turned out one of the natives saw him, raised an alarm and what seemed like the whole village started chasing him.
Which brings us back to him standing by the tree.
Chase took off running again in the general direction of the big white house. All at once the vegetation in front of him came to an abrupt stop. Chase found himself standing on the edge of a deep chasm. Fortunately it wasn’t very wide but he couldn’t see where it ended in either direction. Of course, this is the chasm the bridge crosses. I should have stayed on the main road, he moaned to himself. Now what do I do?
With a chasm in front and a village of angry natives behind Chase didn’t have seem to have any options. Looking around he noticed a vine hanging from a tree. Should he dare try? What have I got to lose? he thought. After wrapping the vine around his waist a few times he gripped it tightly in one hand and held the package with his other. He took a running leap and soared over the chasm and landed on the other side.
Untangling himself he barely had time to slip away into the jungle as the villagers made it to the opposite side of the chasm and started to throw spears at him.
Five minutes later Chase was standing on the front porch of the big white house. He raised the elaborate knocker on the pristine door and let it fall. BOOM!
A few seconds passed and the door was slowly opened by a tall man dressed immaculately in a butler’s outfit.
“Yes?” he inquired of Chase, looking down his nose.
“Delivery!” Chase replied breathlessly handing him the package.
The Butler, for that is indeed who he was, took the offered package. He glanced to his left at an immense grandfather clock standing in the front hall.
“You are over your thirty minutes delivery time. The pizza is free. Good day,” he said and closed the door.
I was asked to join a blogring where a picture is sent out once a week, usually on Thursday, and you write a story about said picture and post it on the following Wednesday.
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