Zoey noted it was precisely seven seventeen when the white pickup truck pulled into the lot next to her car. Two gentlemen emerged and, without even a glance in her direction, headed for the door. The taller one pulled out a key and opened it just enough to slip inside, letting the door close behind them. Zoey had followed them but reached the door only in time to find the door shut and locked once more. She knocked. No one answered. She knocked harder. No response. She shook her head. Maybe she was imagining things. Looking back, she saw the white truck was still there. She turned back to the door and banged on it again. This time she spoke up.
"Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?"
“This is ridiculous,” she thought, as the door remained as it was and she could hear no sounds from within. I know they went inside. I know they're in there. Why won't they open the door? What do I have to do? The problem seemed insoluble. After more knocking and talking, she decided to walk around the building one time. Maybe there was another entrance. Maybe they were outside somewhere around back. They weren't. After circling one time she was convinced there was no other way in or out beside the front door and the giant loading dock gate beside it. Zoey sat down on the edge of the ramp and suddenly felt like crying. The situation was hopeless and absurd.
Fortunately, a delivery truck pulled in and backed down the ramp to the dock. The driver hopped out and she waved a friendly greeting to Zoey.
"They won't open the door,” Zoey blurted out.
"No problem,” the driver said as she swung around and heaved open the gate, pulling it up and letting it coast all the way. She jumped up onto the ledge and shouted into the warehouse.
"Yo, Junior! You around?"
"Right there,” a voice came out from the dark, and moments later the taller one appeared at the loading dock with a dolly and started helping the driver unload a stack of boxes. Zoey had come around to the side of the dock and stood there on the ramp looking up at Junior and the driver.
"Excuse me,” she volunteered, but the two were too busy working to reply.
"Excuse me,” she repeated after a minute or so. This time the driver looked down at her and asked,
"What can we do for you, honey?"
"I'm looking for a package,” Zoey said, and both the driver and Junior laughed.
"You come to the right place,” Junior said. "Packages we got. You want this one?" he asked her, pointing to one on the top of his hand-cart.
"No, no,” Zoey said, "A particular one. I'm looking for a package that was scanned here two days ago and hasn't showed up anywhere since."
"Oh,” Junior scowled. "You got to wait for the boss lady for something like that."
"The boss lady?" the driver said, looking toward him.
"Leonora,” Junior told her. "She's in charge now."
"Oh right, her,” the driver replied with a shrug. "But I don’t need her. You can sign,” she said as she held out a device to Junior and he grabbed it, scribbled his autograph with the special pen attached, and handed it back to her. The driver pulled down the door on the back of her truck, hopped off the dock and came back around to the side.
"Good luck with that,” she said to Zoey as she squeezed past her and jumped into the driver's seat.
"Thank you,” Zoey replied. She barely had time to get out of the way before the driver started up the truck and roared off. Choking from the fumes, she turned back to the dock to see Junior starting to bring down the gate again.
"Wait" she shouted, "I need to ask you"
"Got to wait for the boss lady,” he told her again, and slammed the gate down hard.
"But" Zoey started to say, too late. There was nothing she could do. Wait for another truck to show up, I guess, she thought, or else the mythical boss lady. She trudged back to her car where it least it was almost comfortable.
'I am in control', she told herself. 'I am totally and completely in control', but she wasn't even fooling herself very well this time.'