The Package

The package was waiting sticking out of my front door letterbox like a wrinkly white tongue. I grabbed it as I stepped inside. It was a small box. It rattled when I shook it. It was quite heavy. I frowned, placed it onthe kitchen table, and grabbed a cuppa. A few sips later I stood staring down at it. It had my name typed in some fancy handwriting. Closer inspection: written. Curiosity overtook my thirst and exhaustion from a hard day's work in the office. I ripped it open and stared at the gun inside.

There was a note tied to it like you'd tie a name-tag to a Christmas present. Same twirly writing, just a few words: It's loaded. The Hunt begins 8pm. See you then.

I dropped the package and the gun slid out and acorss the tiled flor, bouncing and twirling slowly til it came to a rest at the fridge. The nozzle pointed at me, a tiny black eye. I yelped. I gulped. For a second I was nearly blind with panic and shock. Then I giggled. A practical joke: Johnny, had to be. The bastard was a right little joker. I'd get him back. I kept laughing, until something horrible dawned on me.

The sender had used my old birth cert name. A name I hadn't used since school. A name johnny couldn't have known; few did. Only someone who had traced me, tracked me down, could know it.

I stared at the gun waiting for me on the floor.

It's loaded.

The clock said 7.45pm.

The Hunt begins 8pm.

Oh shit.

See you then.