Special Delivery

Angela:

Hey Drew, I’m Angela, your Dine-in customer support rep.

I see you had an issue with your order running late.

So sorry to hear that!

I’ll check in with the courier and update you ASAP, blue-heart emoji, praying-hand emoji.

Drew:

Hey, actually we wanted to know if the delivery guy’s okay. According to the app he's inside lake Marion.

Angela pauses for no longer than three seconds, and then types back:

Not sure I understand. What do you need exactly? Woman-shrugging emoji.

Drew:

We're looking at the tracker. He was on his way, then took a right turn on the gravelly road going straight into the lake.

We really just want to make sure he’s fine.

Angela pulls out the courier’s profile. Charlie Sanchez, forty-two, Poinciana, Florida. She opens his location on the map and her eyes lock on his green dot jittering a good half-inch into a big blue patch, before vanishing. Eyes widen, she leans back in her home-office chair, nudging aside her bag of onion & sour cream flavored chips.

Fingers tapping for no longer than ten seconds, she then replies to the customer:

Thank you for holding, Praying-emoji.

I’m trying to reach the courier right now.

Will update you ASAP! Blue-heart emoji.

She then texts Charlie:

Hey Charlie, Angela from Dine-In customer support here.

Your location signal’s off—everything okay?

Reviewing the message carefully, she waits a full minute before escalating to a phone call. Her eyebrows furrow at the No service message and so she waits another three seconds before calling again. This time it goes through.

“H—Hello?” A man gasps.

“Mr. Sanchez? It’s Angela, from Dine-In customer support. I saw your GPS cut out and wanted to make sure…”

“This nutcase tried to kill me!”

Angela switches her phone to her other ear. “I’m sorry—what?”

“This guy ran me off the road. Straight into a lake!” His voice crackles over splashing water.

“Oh god. Okay, I’m calling nine-one-one.”

“No!” Charlie snaps back “No cops, okay? I’m fine. Just need to get my bike”

“W—Where is the bike right now?”

“It’s still in the lake.” His voice cracks, distant.

“Sir, that’s serious. You might need help. Also, it's company policy to call the authorities in case of potential insurance claims…”

“There’s not going to be any claim. I’m fine.”

The line cuts.

Angela stares at her screen, nibbling on her thumbnail, when Charlie calls back.

“Sorry—my phone’s acting out. Please, just forget this happened, okay?”

“I—I don’t know…”

”Listen, I’m waiting on a visa renewal. I can’t deal with cops right now. Please. I’ll just take the rest of the night off.”

Angela pauses to think.

“O—Okay, I guess. Is there any way I can help?”

“Well, my phone’s busted, and I can’t see anything out here. Can you check if there's a gas station or a rest stop nearby?”

She zooms in on the map.

“There’s a diner. About a quarter of a mile to your right from the main road. I don’t think it’s open, but you can get an Uber to pick you up from there.”

He grunts. Then groans painfully. “Damn leg… I think I just twisted my ankle trying to get the bike.”

Angela purses her lips together, refraining from making an offer to call medics.

“Can you call me an Uber? Just set it to cash and I’ll pay the driver. I need someone to tell them where I’m at in case my phone dies before I make it up there.”

“But I won’t get a signal if your phone’s off…”

“Listen!” He barks, “Just tell them to look for a guy walking up this road…”

The call breaks off again, along with Charlie’s signal.

Three minutes pass in a blur of chip guzzling and nail biting, before Angela sees the green dot resurface. Making its way up a thin grey line. She tries placing another call, but it goes straight to voice mail.

At least seven minutes have passed since she started talking to Charlie. A full three minutes above the company required limit. A decision must be made.

She orders an Uber and leaves a driver's note to look for Charlie on the main road. A driver sends an ETA of ten minutes. He’s gonna make it, she reassures herself and returns to the chat.

Quickly, yet thoroughly, she goes through messages, oldest to latest. A missing dish complaint, a food’s too cold complaint, each resolved by the book and to the customer’s satisfaction. Even when her thoughts wander to Charlie and his rescue Uber.

That is until she sees the newest message:

Hey, just got our order. Assuming everything’s fine then. Thanks!

It’s Drew, the client that Charlie was heading to. And it's then that Angela realizes she forgot to call the restaurant. Which order did he get exactly?

Her fingers hover the keyboard as she tries to come up with a reasonable reply, when her phone rings. Unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, you called an Uber? I’m at the diner. No one’s here. Place is locked up.”

“Oh gosh, did you see anyone on the road?”

“Look lady, there's no one here, okay. The place is a graveyard.”

“Could you maybe…” But before she finishes her sentence, another text from Drew jumps up:

WTF! Is this some kind of twisted joke???

She squints her eyes at the message. Distracted from the driver who is wrapping up the call.

“I'm heading out. Gonna have to charge you for this, bye.”

“No, wait! Hello?” He had already hung up. Her eyes, still pointed at her laptop screen, are watching carefully for Drew’s next message. It’s an image. She leans forward to observe as it sharpens.

Huh, her head tilts. It looks like a deep-fried Mozzarella stick with some sauce, but when realizing what it really is, her jaw drops.

A finger. A blood-soaked, severed, human finger, sitting in a delivery box.

What. The. Hell. Her face frozen, she wheels herself away from her desk. Drew’s messages keep coming in but Angela is flabbergasted. The call book doesn’t have a script for human remains found in food.

I’m calling the police.

Drew concludes, just as Angela’s phone starts ringing again. It’s Charlie, another off-script disaster waiting for her to fix.

“Charlie?”, her eyes still fixed on the gory image.

“Hello. Angela, is it? From customer support? pleasure to meet you." It’s not Charlie. The man on the phone sounds calm, measured, wrong.

“H-hello? W—Who is this?”

A chuckle. “Oh I’m just a man, settling a grave injustice.”

From the background, Charlie’s muffled screams pierce through: “Help! He’s going to kill me!” Then a heavy thud.

“Oh hush now you brute. I’m on the phone.” The man clears his throat. “Now, Angela, may I speak to your manager?”

“W—What? What manager? It’s just me here.” Her eyes scan the living room just in case.

“Lies!” He roars. “You people always lie!”

“I’m not lying!” Angela’s howls. “Look, I—I work from home. The managers don't even work this late. You can call in the morning but please don’t hurt Charlie!”

“Oh Charlie”, He stretches the name, “I wouldn’t worry about him. I have no intentions of hurting him, well, not anymore that is”, he snickers, “I'm just asking for my fair retribution so I can let poor Charlie go.”

“W—What did you order?”

“Huh” He smirks “You need to get me fifty thousand dollars. You see Angela, your company has ruined me, and if I don’t get my money I’ll be sending you the rest of Charlie back in pieces.”

“No no no” Angela cries. “But I—I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Well that’s a shame. I guess you can kiss dear Charlie here Adios.”

Rustling sounds before Charlie's voice emerges.

“Angela, this guy’s not kidding. He’s an absolute Maniac!” He sputters to the protests of the man in the background.

“Tell me where you are Charlie, I’ll call the police!”

“No! He’ll kill me! He already cut my finger off! Please, Angela, you have to help me. I—I have a son.”

Angela weeps silently.

“Listen,” Charlie whispers, “I’ve got money. Go to my house. Tell my wife. There’s a safe. Say it’s for Augusto—she’ll understand what that means.”

Angela sobs “ I can’t! Please just ask someone else!”

“I can’t, okay?! The guy wants you to do it for some reason.”

“Why?” her voice rises an octave.

“I don’t know! Cause he’s crazy?”

“I’m not crazy!" the man yells. “Okay, that’s enough”, he grabs the phone back. “Now then, are you going to get me my money, or do you wish to tell me how you like your Charlie steaks cut?"

“Fine, I’ll get you the money.”

“Good! You have forty minutes. I’ll text you where to meet us. You come alone. Any cops, and I’ll deliver you Charlie’s head with a side of french fries.” Angela swallows a lump in her throat. “And this time, I’ll be the one watching you.” he adds sinisterly as the green dot on Angela’s screen disappears. He hangs up.

Angela breathes deeply. It’s been a while since she’s left her apartment. She changes from her Snoopy pajama to a once-oversized hoodie, gets in her car, and drives off.

Twenty-one minutes and sixteen seconds later she reaches a run-down house, its metal fence rusted, porch light flickering. She knocks.

A tired woman in a robe answers. “Yes?”

“Hi ma’am, I’m Angela, a customer support representative at Dine-In. I—I work with your husband, Charlie?”

The woman’s face tightens. “Okay, what is this about?”

“Can I please come in?”

The woman’s eyebrows twist. She hesitates for a second before letting Angela in.

Inside, Angela spills the jarring chain of events that had led to her visit. But the woman seems skeptical.

“So you’re asking me to give you all our money, so you can go and save my husband from a raging lunatic?”

“I know it sounds insane, but it’s true!” Angela implores.

“Okay, keep it down, I have a kid sleeping upstairs." Mrs. Sanchez scolds and heads to the hallway.

“A—Ah so, you believe me?” Angela’s eyebrows arch.

“I’m going to get the money.” She answers in a heavy tone.

Her face unclench, Angela picks up her phone to look for the kidnapper’s latest message, when the eerie sound of a metallic clunk comes from behind her. She turns around and her mouth springs open as she’s faced with the barrel of a gun.

“Ah Mrs. Sanchez, W—What are you doing?”

“Look lady, I don't know who you are, but you’re going to tell me where my husband is right now or I swear to god I’m going to shoot you in the leg.” She lowers her aim.

“No no no”, Angela cries, “I’m telling you the truth! He’s not answering your calls, right? He can’t! He’s being held hostage by a man with a personal vendetta against Dine-In!”

Mrs. Sanchez cocks her gun.

“Okay, if you’re not going to be honest with…”

“Ah! Augusto! Do it for Augusto!” Angela screams. Mrs. Sanchez slowly lowers the gun.

“What did you say?”

“You should do it for Augusto. That’s what he told me to tell you so you’ll believe me.”

Mrs. Sanchez shrugs and looks away. Her eyes tear up.

“Okay, I’ll go get the money.”

Angela’s eyes follow Mrs. Sanchez to ensure she is not planning another sneak attack, when she returns with a bundle of cash.

“I’m coming with you.” She announces.

“You can’t. I told you…”

“Yeah, I heard you.” Her face pulls down. “Oh lord”, she lifts her gaze and then points it at Angela. “I can’t just let you go alone.”

“You have to. I promise I will get your husband back. I won’t let Augusto grow up without his father.”

Mrs. Sanchez smiles ruefully, “Augusto is dead dear”, her chin trembles.

“He’s our oldest child. Passed away before we moved to the states. No one here even knows we had another kid.”

“I—I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Some people are just too good for this world”, she sighs. “Please, at least tell me where he is.”

“Mrs. Sanchez, you’re going to have to trust me.”

With thirteen minutes and eleven seconds left, Angela takes off.

The road twists into the woods, where a lone cabin waits in darkness. Her hands trembling, she knocks on the door.

“H—Hello? It’s Angela. From Dine-in customer support.”

“Come in” A voice calls.

“I—I don’t want to. I’ll just leave the money here and you’ll let Charlie go.”

“Come In!” His voice agitates.

Reluctantly, she enters. The smell of mildew and gasoline fills her nose. Inside stands a grey-haired man with an eye patch, holding a knife to the throat of who she presumes is Charlie Sanchez.

“Lock the door and toss me the key,” he orders. “Good. Now the money..” Angela follows his instructions, waiting as he counts the bills.

“It’s all there, I promise.”

“What good are your promises, huh?” He scoffs. “You work for a company of notorious liars.”

“Look s—sir, whatever Dine-In did to you…”

“What they did to me?! You see this eye patch?” He snaps. Angela nods as her eyes slowly sway towards Charlie, tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth. His hand bleeding, tiny water drops glistening on his cheeks of sweat, or tears.

“Well I wouldn't need this patch if it hadn’t been for one of your drivers crashing into me when I was crossing the street. Throwing me head-first into a tree. Do you have any idea, the anguish I went through?” Angela shakes her head. “I lost my job over this. Then the wife left, saying I was always feeling sorry for myself, well wouldn’t you?! Did you know they don’t pay disability for just one injured eye?! And Dine-In. What did they do? Nothing! No accountability! They make millions a week, yet they can’t spare a dime to pay for their mistakes. Well, I knew the day would come when I’d exact my revenge. I waited, and today, at sundown, I stalked Lakeside road looking for the first driver I see, and I knew—today I will finally get mine.”

“Good for you sir!” Angela cheers, much to the puzzlement of both the man and Charlie. “And now that you got your well deserved compensation you can let Charlie go, right?”

The man pauses, as if considering Angela’s proposal, before shaking his head. “Alas, I cannot allow that to happen. Now that you’ve seen my face, well, you know how this goes, don’t you?” He slowly paces towards her.

“You don’t have to do this. We won’t talk to anyone! Charlie’s not even documented!” She babbles as the man gets closer, and then she blurts out, “Ah! Charlie is recording you! He has a phone in his pocket.”

The man turns to Charlie, just as a metallic click echoes behind him. It’s Angela, pointing Mrs. Sanchez’s gun at him.

“Okay sir, I’m going to have to ask you to sit down.” Angela’s voice is firm, even if her legs are shaking.

The man puts on a menacing smirk “Or what? You’ll Shoot me? Miss customer support? More lies!” He lunges at her, teeth bared, and the gun fires.

“My eye! I—I can’t see!” The man with the eye patch covers his other eye, scrambling to catch his bearings before collapsing on the floor.

“Maybe you’ll get your disability money now. Asshole.” Charlie sneers as Angela unties him.

The two make a run for it, then drive away in Angela’s car. A few minutes later, Angela drops Charlie off at his house, where he gives her the longest hug he has ever given.

---------

A month has passed since the incident. The man with the—now double—eye patch, survived. Angela made sure to use his phone to call for medical assistance before escaping.

Charlie had fished out his bike from the lake the following morning, and then quit his job.

Drew, the finger recipient, started using Uber eats.

And Angela switched to day shifts. With a new appreciation for life, she no longer hides in her apartment, but faces the world and all it has to offer. Good and bad.

She even started coming into the office, and it’s there where her boss calls her in for a chat.

“Ms. Stout, have a seat please.”

“Yes sir, is everything okay?”

“Well Ms. Stout, I wish it was. Tell me, the night of the 14th. You were working that shift weren’t you?”

Angela chokes “Um, yeah.”

“Wait! That was that night with the finger, right?” He asks too enthusiastically.

“Y—Yeah, why? Did the police find out what happened?"

“The police? Nah these guys don’t know shit. Anyway, the legal team already took care of that one. Seems the delivery didn’t come from any of our guys” He winks.

“Back to business. I got a report showing you missed three blue-heart emojis that night.”

“W—What?” Angela struggles to contain a smile.

“This is not a laughing matter Ms. Stout. I understand that night was a bit hectic, what with that… Prank, but you neglected to add blue-heart emojis in three conversations!” His eyes convey true concern. “Ms. Stout, The blue heart is our symbol that we would do anything for our customers. That we care. Do you understand?” She nods.

“Now, I’m not implying that you don’t care, but I’m afraid I can’t let this one slide. I’m not sure you got what it takes for this position. It’s a high pressure job, lots of incoming calls. Maybe you’re just not cut out for it.”

Angela marvels at her shiny new sticker-nails and then looks up.

“Maybe I’m not. It’s okay sir, I understand.”

“I wish you all the best Ms. Stout”, he offers a handshake.

“Thanks sir, and you have yourself an excellent day! Blue-heart emoji.” They chuckle.

Angela steps out into the street, staring at the sky for three seconds, maybe more, she doesn’t keep count.