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Back THE MAILMAN
Chapters (57)
  1. DEDICATION
  2. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55

The last of the theater workers’ cars left, loud rock music blaring distortedly from speakers that were not meant to handle such volume, and now the parking lot was empty save for an abandoned pickup at the far end. The overhead lights, one mounted on a telephone pole, the other on an actual lamppost, blinked simultaneously off.

And now there was only darkness and silence.

No, not quite silence.

There was a soft purring.

The sound of a new car engine.

Billy’s heart began pounding. He stepped across the sidewalk and looked up and down the street, desperately searching for his dad, but his dad was nowhere to be seen.

There was only a new red car cruising slowly down the street toward him.

Panic gripped his chest, and he looked around for some place to hide. But the outside of the theater was flat and featureless, with no alcoves or indentations in which to conceal himself. There were not even any bushes behind which he could duck. The people who had built the theater had torn out all trees and bushes and had paved over the bare flattened ground for their parking lot. He was stuck. There was nothing he could do, no place he could go.

The car pulled into the parking lot. The passenger window slowly lowered, and against the darkness of the interior he saw the mailman’s milk-white face and bright-red hair.

The car stopped next to him. “Need a ride?” The smooth voice was seductive, suggestive.

“My dad’s coming to pick me up,” Billy said. His heart was pounding so crazily that he thought he might have a heart attack.

“Your dad’s not coming,” the mailman said. His voice was still silky, but there was an undercurrent of menace in it. The passenger door opened. “Get in.”

Billy backed away.

“Your dad’s not around anymore,” the mailman said, and chuckled. There was something about the way he stretched out the word “around” that sent a chill of goosebumps down Billy’s arms. “Get in.”

“No,” Billy said.

“You’ll get in, and you’ll like it.” The mailman’s arm stretched out through the open door.

And continued to stretch.

And continued to stretch.

Until his cold white fingers were clamped around Billy’s throat.

And Billy awoke screaming.

9