Prologue

5pm.

Knocking off time.

And boy was he ready for it.

Danny pulled off his gloves, the conveyor belt grinding to a halt as the bell rang out around the sorting department. Machinery hummed softly before dying into an eerie silence. The kind of silence that was music to his ears. Removing his US-X ear muffs he ran his rough, grainy hand across his forehead, dripping with sweat. He guessed he'd lost about half a kilo, this afternoon alone.

'Too hot.' He thought to himself as he ruffled his hair, trying desperately to let oxygen flow through to his scalp, burning under the cover of thick blonde hair. 'Way too hot.'

Most people had knocked off a few minutes ago, their jobs for the day finally completed. Just Danny left, getting the last of the shipments out. He started to make his way over to the big one. The feeder belt, still purring away. This was the belt that carried every single item of post into the sorting department before it was processed and assigned to whichever section it was destined for.

"Dammit Lewis," He cried, throwing his arms down by his side. "Would it kill you to turn this thing off once in a while?"

The belt, still turning, was thick and black as it snaked from upstairs and along the top of the ceiling. Round and round it circled, before finishing abruptly atop a set of metal rollers, a steep descent into the sorting department below, surrounded by a wire mesh cage.

"Up here man." A voice resonated from above.

Danny, shocked, turned his attention to the ceiling of the huge concrete room. A long, gangly leg hung over the edge of the conveyor belt. He considered climbing up to see what was going on, but the frail metal staircase leading up to the maintenance platform never struck him as being quite so safe. At his weight of nearly 210lbs he figured he had a good chance of injuring himself, maybe others, if that thing gave way.

"What's the deal?" He cupped his hand to his mouth, barking up to Lewis.

Lewis stuck his head over the edge, his short curly black hair and thick bushy moustache reminding Danny of a Marx brother. His acne didn't do much for his confidence either.

"Something's missing off the log dude." Lewis announced, shrugging his shoulders. "Figured I'd see if it had gotten stuck. Wouldn't be the first time!"

That was true. Things were always getting stuck up there. Danny looked on as Lewis disappeared again, retreating back into the rafters and off to find the missing item. He seemed to be gone a while, and with the belt still turning Danny wondered if it wouldn't be a good idea to flick the switch and deactivate it, just in case.

"Lewis?" He bellowed.

Nothing.

"Come on man, stop fucking about!" He tried again.

Still nothing.

He decided to play it safe and turn the thing off. The last thing he needed was his friend getting caught in the gears and dragged round. Health and safety would be all over it, asking why he didn't throw the switch immediately. Picking up the pace he raced past the sorting machinery dotted around and aimed for the kill switch, reaching it at a canter and plunging it with a satisfying 'CLICK'. Then silence. Finally silence. No whirring of the belt, no questions from Lewis asking why he'd switched it off. Nothing.

"Come on man this isn't funny!" He was starting to worry now. This shouldn't be happening. He must've heard him calling. There was only one thing left, and that was to climb the unstable metal staircase that wound it's way up and away from the safe, secure, cement floor. In fact he'd just reached out and grabbed the flimsy metal banister when he heard a noise.

A whooshing noise.

It was the rollers. They sounded so different when they weren't crowded out by the noise from everything else. Whether it be the belts, the laser scanners as they read each zip code or even the screeching racket from Pete's radio. Always with the radio, blasting whatever heavy metal the old prick dragged in from the car. Danny glanced over just in time to see the box land at the bottom of the rollers, coming to a sudden halt as it met the immobile rubber of the lower conveyor belt before flipping over length ways. His interest pricked up, he decided to investigate.

A fairly big, plain, rectangular box, maybe about a metre long and thirty centimetres tall, just sat there.

"Well I'll be damned." Danny sighed as he approached the box. The next thing he heard was the sound of metal, barely being held together by the ill fitting rivets, nuts and bolts as Lewis raced down from the heavens, feet pounding with every step. Reaching the bottom three steps Lewis leapt and landed, the entire frame shaking and rocking.

"Shit!" Lewis panted, out of breath, staring into Danny's plump round face. "We gotta get this through to dispatch!"

"Now?" Danny asked, taken aback by the urgency in Lewis's voice.

"Fuck yeah. This thing's got overnight written all over it!"

"Yeah right." Danny replied.

"Seriously man. Look!" Lewis pointed to the shipping label. 'Overnight' stamped in thick red ink, lending a sense of urgency to the proceedings.

"Oh man!?" Danny grabbed the box, surprised at how heavy it was, and started running. Maybe he still had time, the dispatch truck could still be here. Doubtful as it was, he had to try. But he was going to have to race down there. All the belts were off and they'd take too long to fire them back up again. As he raced along through the corridors of the US-X depot he tried to remain as calm as possible. If somebody got wind of this there'd be hell to pay. Never mind the faulty equipment these assholes had never paid to fix, it'd be Danny and Lewis that took the wrap for this fuck up. He could've sworn Lewis was right behind him, that he'd heard a voice as he raced round the corner and down the fire escape, clattering the box into the frame of the red, steel staircase. But nobody was there. Figuring he must be imagining things, he frantically raced onwards, finally reaching the dispatch garage.

"Jesus!" He gasped, looking across a sea of trucks. "Which fucking one? Please still be here!"

Grabbing the nearest driver, he quickly asked which truck was headed for Highgate and made his way over. Just in time too. The driver was sat in his cab, engine running, just folding his clipboard up behind his sun visor. Danny raced alongside, slamming his hand against the door as the truck started to move off.

"What the...?" The driver jolted upright in his seat and braked, alarmed at the sudden banging from outside.

"You forgot one!" Danny yelled, holding up the package and gesturing to the back of the truck.

The driver climbed down, leaving the engine running. That was a new one now. The bean counters upstairs wanted to keep track of the drivers and monitor any 'unusual' activity on the routes, so they'd installed engine trackers that basically told them if anybody made an unscheduled stop. If they did, a warning. Didn't sound much, but three warnings and you were gone.

"Oh 'I' forgot one did I?" The stocky frame of the driver grunted as he approached Danny.

"Well..." Danny stuttered, "You know what I mean... John..." Danny spotted the ID card hanging from the driver's breast pocket.

"Give it here!" John muttered as he yanked the package from Danny, "That ain't going anywhere overnight! None of this is." John waved his arm, gesturing to the side of the truck, irritation and anger seeping through his words. "Fucking assholes, keep me hanging round, then have the balls to lecture me when I miss the connection!? Thanks kid! Thanks a lot!". He reached the back of the truck and swung the lever counter clockwise, releasing the locking mechanism for the huge, back, double doors. Without saying another word he heaved the box into the back of the truck and closed the doors, before walking back to his cab, never acknowledging Danny again. Slamming the door, he fired the throttle, released the handbrake and the huge truck slowly and majestically pulled out of the garage. Danny relieved but embarrassed raised his hand to wave.

"Thank you..." He screamed as the truck disappeared over the horizon.

Feeling his heart rate slow to a much more sensible rhythm, Danny made his way back upstairs to his locker.

Time for a beer.