“This is three dollars, yes?” 

   “No ma’am, it only costs two”

   Kat watched the gap between the woman’s two front teeth as she spoke. She was old, middle aged, probably in her late forties, and short. So short, in fact, that Kat felt she needed to crane her neck at an angle just to meet her upturned eyes. Her smile widened with Kat’s reply, short blonde hair barely swaying along to a nod.

   ‘Hairspray’. The woman’s bob let off an overwhelmingly pungent odor. Kat wondered exactly how much she spent on cans of it every month, must have been hundreds. 

   She handed Kat two paper bills, along with a small cardboard box that was taped shut with yellow duct tape. Kat pretended to ignore the smudge of red that stained the corner of a singular green note, as well as the woman’s rush to stuff her hands back into the coat of her maroon jacket.

   “It’s getting quite cold out, you know”

   “Yes ma’am”

   She made a swift move for the small green package of menthol cigarettes upon the counter and studied Kat a second more, brown eyes peering into each other, before abruptly turning on the heel of her black stilettos, gap-tooth smile remaining frozen on her elderly face.

   Kat didn’t notice the smell of blood emitting from the woman’s clothing. No, she only smelled hairspray, with a faint trace of peppermint and tobacco.

   Her name was Barbara Stiller, it said so in black sharpie on the bottom of the box. It also wrote, “Date Of Extraction: December 17th”. Five days ago, a bit late for the holiday season, in Kat’s opinion at least. 

She tucked the package under her arm and swiped an orange soda from one of the store’s many refrigerators. ‘Not the strangest character to wander in here’ She thought, before walking towards the metal cellar door. 

   Kat always hated walking downstairs. The smell of death was so overpowering that she was almost surprised Caesar didn’t force her to wear a gas mask. The steps were old, but stable. Caesar had them sanded every year, something about not wanting her to get splinters, especially since his efforts to make her wear shoes around the store proved futile. 

   “C?”, she called out, rotating the box to get a glimpse of the label again, “I got another one right here, someone called Stiller”. There was a pause. It was always too quiet down here, she thought, too dark.

   “Bring it here”. She spun around to see Caesar on his knees in front of a shelf, motioning behind him with one hand while studying a similar package to the one under Kat’s arm in the other. He didn’t look up until she stationed herself beside him, dangling the box in front of his rectangular glasses. He shifted his gaze to look up at her, before dropping the box he was grasping to wordlessly take the one in Kat’s possession.

   He turned the box around, inspecting it from every angle. “No stains, huh? Not bad… who’d you say it was from? Miller?”

“Stiller. Barbara Stiller.” She pointed, his gaze following, “It says so on the bottom”. He turned the box upside down, frowning a bit, before realization dawned.

“Ah, that’s right. Boss said we’d have a few new sellers this month. Not surprised, feels’ like there’s always a business spike in December.”

Kat scoffed, let out a huff of laughter before looking at the array of packages sorted into the shelves in front of her. They had received fourteen of them this week, all varying in size and color. Some large, others small. Some spotless, others splotched with scarlet.

“Can you blame them? It’s Christmas season, money’s tight for everyone this month.”

Caesar cast his eyes downward, and any ounce of amusement in Kat’s expression vanished with the blink of his eyes. “There’s enough suffering in this world as is, too many killings in the name of prosperity.” His hands clenched around the box, fingernails scraping into the cardboard. He stared downward at it before dropping it to the cement floor with a thud. 

Kat clenched her jaw. She knew Caesar had wanted out for years, maybe even since Boss had brought him in as a child. She had lived in the store her entire life, had no memory of what life was like otherwise, had no reason to dream.

Eventually, Caesar sighed and pulled a pair of orange scissors out of his back pocket. He sliced through the yellow tape with ease, and shook his head slightly before   lifting the flaps.

Kat grimaced and looked away. “What is it?”

   “An index and a pointer”

   Kat felt her insides squeeze. “Age?” She managed, voice soft and hesitant. 

   “They’re wrinkled. Elderly, I suppose, probably won’t go for much.” Kat tried to mask her relief. Caesar sighed again, before standing up to brush the dust off his brown corduroy slacks. “I’ve got a shipment going out today. Won’t take more than a few hours. Be back before midnight.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Call me if anything happens. Boss says they’re expecting a big one to arrive around nine”

“Nine? We close at seven.” Kat had lived in this store for seventeen years, never once had the boss asked her to work overtime for a package. 

“Not sure, boss says it was non-negotiable” Kat raised her eyebrow. Strange. “I’ll see you later tonight, alright? Don’t get into too much trouble”, Caesar said, lips quirked up into a semblance of a smile. 

“Alright” Kat handed him the orange soda before turning to walk up the stairs. Caesar went back to loading up the shelves.

The store had three levels. The cellar of course, and then the normal convenience store. But the third level acted as Kat and Caesar’s home, complete with two bedrooms and a bathroom to share. She was watching the nightly news when a knock came from downstairs, three loud raps on the twin glass doors. Outside were three burly men covered head to toe in black cloth, with a bright green symbol embroidered on the right side of their chest. Kat swung the door open and allowed them to pass. She noticed a large black van seemingly filling its gas tank outside.

Once all three had passed through, Kat allowed the door to close. They formed a circle around her, hands folded behind their backs and feet exactly shoulder width apart. The one to her right picked up a bag of chips and looked in her direction.

“This is three dollars, yes?” He didn’t sound old, but he certainly wasn’t her age.

“No, sir, it only costs two,” she whispered. 

The men nodded at each other before motioning outside to the black van. Two more figures in the same black clothes slid open the doors and seemed to wheel over the largest package Kat had ever seen. It had black cloth draped over it, and almost seemed to shake? ‘What’s going on here?’ she wondered, slowly becoming apprehensive with every move the cart made towards the store. She stood frozen as the men opened the glass door to wheel the crate through, one of the wheels becoming stuck on a ridge. Kat felt it was a sign.

Once the package was through, the men nodded at Kat and left without a word, the glass shutting with a bang behind them. She was going to leave, go back upstairs and watch the television like nothing had ever happened, a routine she had become accustomed to over the years.

But then she heard something. So quiet she felt it must have been her imagination. She never looked at packages, that was Caesar’s job. She had learned her lesson years ago after stumbling upon him holding a liver. It took her months of sleeping in his room to get over the nightmares of that day.

But then she heard it again. It was muffled, sounded desperate, almost lonely. She thought about calling Caesar, telling him they must have brought the wrong package. They never dealt with live cargo, it had to be a mistake.

Kat’s hand shook as she reached to lift the black cloth. It probably wasn’t what she thought it to be. Caesar had told her she was crazy a few times, he was probably right. She began to withdraw her hand when it sounded again. A high pitched, muffled whine, undeniably real.

She closed her eyes and tore it off the crate, scrunching her nose and gritting her teeth, afraid of what she would see.

Silence. Kat waited for what seemed like hours before slowly opening her eyes.

‘What the hell’ No. No, no, no, no, this couldn’t be right. It didn’t make sense. Kat gasped and began to back away, eyes widening madly. She must look insane.

The child had long brown hair and pale skin. It was a boy, she could tell, but he couldn’t have been older than nine. There was a gash on his right shoulder and silver duct tape that wrapped around his head as a gag. He wore a dark red shirt and gray shorts, skin flushed pink from the cold.

Kat didn’t think, just stared at the crate for a minute before coming to her senses and madly searching for an opening. The silver bars clanged and clashed as her hands frantically, yet clumsily scoped for a gate. The boy stared at her, silent. She found it on the back of the cage. ‘Locked’

The fire extinguisher on the wall to the left of the door seemed begging to be used. She yanked it off and pounded it against the lock, huffing. It eventually broke and she hurriedly opened the door. 

The boy made no effort to move. In fact, he seemed to flinch away from Kat’s touch when she reached into the cage to remove the duct tape that wrapped around his head. She noticed the cuffs around his hands and ankles and made a move for the extinguisher once again.

“Don’t move” she whispered, before smashing the chains to pieces. The boy stared at her again, yet remained silent. Kat looked into his eyes. He didn’t look scared, just tired. “I’m going to get you a blanket” she told him, before backing out of the crate to jog up the stairs.

She snatched a small blanket off her bedspread and ran back down the stairs. The crate was empty, and the glass store doors rattled. He was gone.

Outside, a blanket of white encompassed the street. The first snow of the year. A trail of red led down the road, past the gas station. Who knew where it went. Kat didn’t feel she needed to look. She would deal with the consequences later. The woman was right, it was getting colder. Kat wished the boy had accepted her blanket.