Zane Holt sat at the counter of a 24-hour diner on Iron Hollow's east side and picked at a hot dog on a greasy plate. The place smelled of burnt coffee and bacon fat, and had sticky menus stacked near a cash register. A jukebox in the corner skipped through a Bruce Springsteen song and made a faint buzz every few seconds.
Zane's denim jacket hung on the stool next to him and had a tear at the elbow from a fence he'd climbed earlier. His hands were smudged with dirt from a day spent digging through a junkyard for scrap that left him with three bucks in his pocket.
A bell jingled over the door and Marco Delgado walked in. He wore a loud Hawaiian shirt with palm trees and had gold chains that glinted under the diner's fluorescent lights. His boots clicked on the checkered floor and stopped at Zane's stool.
He slid a twenty-dollar bill and a heavy key across the counter, and kept his voice low."Got a job for you tonight and it's simple," Marco said. "Old meat plant up north, you stand watch till dawn. Got a package in the freezer and needs eyes on it."
Zane pushed his plate away and wiped his hands on his jeans. "What's the package?"
"Special stock, not your usual shit," Marco said. "Don't touch it or fuck around, just make sure nobody does either. Twenty now and twenty after if it's clean."
Zane's stomach tightened and he didn't like Marco's tone. It sounded too careful like something was off. But three bucks wouldn't buy much and saying no to Marco meant trouble later. He pocketed the money the the key and nodded.
Marco clapped his shoulder and left without another word. Zane paid for the hot dog and grabbed his jacket. He stepped outside and felt the cold bite his face. The diner's neon sign buzzed red and cast a glow on the sidewalk.
He borrowed a beat-up Schwinn bike from a kid loitering by the alley and pedaled north. The streets were quiet and lined with shuttered stores and cracked pavement. A train whistle sounded far off and carried through the smoggy air.
Zane's breath puffed white and his fingers numbed on the handlebars. The meatpacking plant squatted at the edge of town. It looked dark and empty. Its walls were concrete and stained with rust streaks, and had broken windows high up.
A chain-link fence circled it and rattled in the wind. Zane ditched the bike behind a dumpster and climbed through a gap in the fence. His boots crunched on gravel and kicked up dust as he approached the loading dock. Old pallets lay splintered and piled with faded signs that read "No Trespassing."
He found a side door and used the key to get in. Inside and the air smelled of mildew and old meat and felt like a basement. The ceiling was high and lined with steel rails and rusted hooks that swayed slightly.
Zane's steps echoed on the tiled floor that showed cracks and grease spots under his flashlight's beam. He found the freezer at the back and saw a steel door twice his height, and scratched deep like someone tried to pry it open. The key fit a padlock and clicked loud when it turned.
Cold air rushed out and stung his eyes when he pulled the door.The freezer was big and lined with frosted shelves and empty except for one thing. A package sat alone, wrapped in butcher paper and taped tight about the size of a brick.
Zane set his flashlight on a shelf and watched the beam bounce off ice crystals on the walls. The cold made his joints ache and he flexed his hands to keep them loose. He settled against the doorframe and prepared to wait then checked his watch.
It was 2:10 a.m. and dawn felt far away. Hours crawled and Zane paced to stay warm, and he heard nothing but the freezer's hum. Then a scuff broke the quiet that came from the main hall. He grabbed the flashlight and clicked it off and held his breath.
The sound got closer and stopped outside the freezer. A woman's voice called out and sounded sharp but shaky."Hey, you in there? I'm here for the pickup."
Zane cracked the door and saw her under a flickering green light. She was thin and pale and had a buzzed haircut and wore an army jacket with a snake patch on the sleeve. Her eyes darted fast and her hands stayed in her pockets like she was gripping something.
She looked late twenties and had a scar above her lip and sweated despite the cold. "You Marco's guy?" she asked and stepped closer. "Name's Lee, I'm early and need to see it."Zane kept the door half-closed and blocked her view.
"Marco said dawn and nobody till then. You got ID or something?" Lee laughed short and it sounded forced.
"ID? what is this, a bank? I'm the courier, and that's what you need. Show me the shit and we're cool."
Zane didn't move and his fingers tightened on the door. Marco hadn't mentioned a woman or any early pickup and her story felt wrong. He needed time, so he stepped inside and grabbed the package like he'd check it.
His touch hit the paper and sent a jolt through him. It wasn't meth or any drug he knew, it felt thick and wrong like chemicals and something heavy, maybe blood. His throat went dry and he set it back fast, then came out.
"It's there and it's fine," he said and kept his voice flat. "Come back at dawn like you're supposed to."
Lee's eyes narrowed and she rocked on her heels. "You know what's in it or what? Marco's movin' big and you're just standin' there like it's nothing. Who's he dealin' with, don't lie."
Zane leaned on the frame and crossed his arms and made himself look bored. "I hold doors and that's it. You want names or plans, you talk to Marco. I don't ask and he don't tell."
She stared hard and her hand twitched in her pocket like she might pull something. Then she smirked and shook her head. "Alright, you're smart or dumb, I ain't sure yet. Tell your boss to watch himself and this game's got bigger dogs than him. You're in it now, whether you know it or not."
Lee turned and walked off and her boots echoed until they faded. Zane locked the freezer and sat against the door and felt his heart pound. The package wasn't right and Lee's words stuck with him.
He stayed till dawn, and left when a truck's headlights flashed outside. He biked back through empty streets and reached his apartment as the sky turned pink. The twenty bucks in his pocket didn't feel like enough. Marco was playing with something bad and Zane knew too much.
He couldn't say a word or he'd be the one bleeding.