I FOUND A SMALL BROWN PACKAGE TAPED UNDER MARK’S CAR SEAT WHILE CLEANING
My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped the package onto the dirty garage floor, the sudden discovery shocking me cold.
It was surprisingly heavy, maybe six inches square, wrapped tightly in faded brown paper and secured with excessive amounts of grey duct tape holding it firmly to the underside of the passenger seat. The air in the garage was damp and cold, making the sudden, uncontrollable tremor in my arms feel even more pronounced as I struggled to pull the last stubborn bit of tape free with trembling fingers.
I ripped the paper open right there beside the car door, kneeling on the rough, dusty concrete, my heart pounding in my ears. Inside wasn’t tools or junk, but stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills bound with rubber bands, neatly stacked, and a small, heavy, smooth metal device about the size of a deck of cards tucked beside the money. The metal felt strangely cool to the touch, almost unnervingly so.
Just as I was staring at it, trying desperately to make some kind of sense of this impossible discovery, the side door creaked open. Mark stood there, framed by the faint light, his eyes instantly fixed on my lap, wide with something I couldn’t quite name – dread? Fear? “What is that? Why were you in my car?” he stammered, his voice pitched too high, tight with panic.
He took a hesitant step towards me, then another, his face draining of all color, becoming a pale mask. I managed to hold up the smooth metal device, my voice barely a hoarse whisper as I finally managed to ask what it was and who exactly all that money was for. He didn’t answer, just suddenly lunged forward, trying to snatch it from my grasp.
Then the device in his hand started blinking a steady, insistent red light.
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*He lunged, a desperate, animalistic sound tearing from his throat. I reacted purely on instinct, scrambling back against the car, pulling the device and the bundle of cash closer to my chest. He scrabbled at my hands, his eyes wide and unfocused with terror. “Give it to me! Give it back!” he hissed, his breath hot and ragged. “You don’t understand!”
The red light on the device wasn’t just blinking anymore; it was pulsing faster now, and a low, almost inaudible *ping* sound accompanied each flash. It wasn’t just a light; it was a signal.
“Understand what, Mark?!” I cried, trying to twist away from his grasp. “What is this money? What is this thing?!”
He finally managed to wrench the device from my fingers. As he held it, staring at the frantic pulsing light, his face contorted in despair. “It’s… it’s a timer,” he choked out, his voice trembling violently. “Or a tracker. It means… it means they know.”
My blood ran cold. “They? Who are ‘they’?”
“The people… the people I was supposed to give this to,” he stammered, gesturing vaguely at the money still clutched in my lap. “It was supposed to be a simple drop. Just leave the money and the package. The device was supposed to be a signal it was done, or maybe a failsafe… I don’t know! They just told me to take it and wait for instructions. If it was touched, or moved from the car… or if the timer ran out… it would activate.”
He threw the device down onto the concrete as if it had suddenly burned him. It landed with a clatter, the red light still pulsing malevolently, the faint *ping* echoing in the sudden, terrible silence between us.
“They’ll think I double-crossed them,” Mark whispered, his eyes darting towards the garage door leading outside, then back to the house. “Or that someone found it… They don’t like complications.”
A heavy dread settled over me, colder than the garage air. The large sum of cash, the hidden nature, Mark’s abject terror, and now the activated tracker/timer. This wasn’t just some secret; it was something deeply dangerous.
Suddenly, the distinct sound of a car pulling into the driveway outside cut through the quiet. Not Mark’s car, which was still in the garage, but another one. The engine cut, and the car door slammed shut with an unnervingly final sound.
Mark’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with pure panic. He didn’t hesitate. “Back door! Now!” he yelled, grabbing my arm, pulling me roughly to my feet. He didn’t even look back at the money or the blinking device on the floor. His focus was solely on getting out, escaping whatever ‘they’ were. We sprinted towards the internal door leading into the house, the sound of footsteps approaching the front of the garage echoing behind us, each heavy tread a chilling confirmation that our time had just run out.