The Story So Far: Having refused to reveal what it is they are delivering and then leaving Leanne to complete her first delivery alone, Le’Roy attempts to fight off an invisible force.
Growing larger all the time, he was now taller than the brewery wall, and transparent, as if halfway through his transformation. The chain whirled around in his hands, there was another loud crash and red sparks exploded from one of the spiked balls.
The final part of the delivery would be up to her. Gritting her teeth she took the next corner at high speed, gripping the handlebars tightly, leaning into it like a racer. Quickly she looked back, Le’Roy was catching up fast, just a few yards away from her, he spun the chain again. This time she felt heat from the sparks hissing and bouncing on the tarmac, perilously close to her wheels. Terror thumped in her throat. Until now, she had convinced herself this wasn’t real, just some kind of crazy day dream. On questioning him about the package she hadn’t taken the warnings seriously at all. Now she knew he meant them; it was dangerous to fight, and she could actually get hurt.
Terrified, she pedalled on, legs whirring faster than ever before, though it felt that every down-stroke took forever and her legs were made of glue, growing ever more sluggish and tired. She was petrified of slowing down.
Finally, she spied an entrance in the brewery wall. A door that appeared incredibly out of place; glossy green, a small effort at a portico, with a huge brass door knob, bigger than her head. Without surprise, she noted to one side hung a decorative animal head, a bucket dangling from its tusks. Doubtless, this was the right door.
Breaking right up against it, she hammered on the wood with her hand. There was no immediate answer. Another bang told her that Le’Roy had scored one more hit on their attackers. She hammered on the door again with her other hand and yelled, “Delivery!”
Still no reply. She couldn’t tell if anything moved inside. There were more loud crashes, and from the corner of her eye she saw red sparks scatter, heat rose on the back of her head, whatever Le’Roy was fighting was getting very close.
Pressing herself against the door, hoping the portico would provide some protection, she hammered on the door again. Why was no one answering?
Maybe it would be better to lob the basket over the wall, it looked possible, with enough of a swing and a lot of luck. But, a single line of thought occurred; she would have to take the basket from her bike and it was taped on with horribly strong and sticky carpet tape. She’d need scissors, but she hadn’t brought any. How stupid. What on earth was she going to do?
All around her the battle banged and crashed, like cars smashing again and again she felt the reverberations. Frantically, she tore off a glove and started scrabbling at the carpet tape with her fingers, desperately trying to find the end. Behind her, where Le’Roy should be, all she could see was a green blur, spinning like a tornado, occasional explosions bursting out in blooms of red. He was having to fight very hard.
The only practical option was to get through the door. Giving up with the tape she used both hands to hammer on it again, hurting her fists, vainly hoping to raise whoever was inside. As a last resort she grasped the brass door knob, not expecting it to do anything, but to her surprise it gave way beneath her hands.
Harshly berating herself for not trying it first, she pushed the door open with all her strength. It gave way easily, opening up onto a large hallway with a red carpet and a white painted balustrade, and she didn’t care what else, she hopped off the bike and grabbed the basket with both hands, hauling it, and her bike, over the doorstep and inside. Collapsing, she knelt on the floor, the bike’s front wheel between her knees, still holding the basket, with its precious contents, whatever they were, upright and undisturbed.
All the commotion outside abruptly ceased. Le’Roy, in ephemeral half-boar form, looking decidedly unwell and leaning perilously to one side, drifted towards her, as if pulled by some unknown force into the basket, where he reformed into the mask with a weary sigh and settled down with his eyes closed. She lent and swung the door shut behind him, echoing his sigh as she did so.
However, looking back up to the space where the door had been, she was bewildered to find herself staring into the twin barrels of a shotgun, and beyond the sights, a growling face of a very angry looking, yet at the same time very blue, life-size bear.
To be continued...
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