World Wide Warrior 12
(The PO Box)

All through the night Rayen drove
Sacramento’s Six hour drive.
Braden slept in case of emergency.
If there was an attack, he’d thrive.
Soon the sun would rise in the East,
But just before that event,
Braden was awoken by his grandmother,
Announcing that they were present.

Rayen: “We’re here, Braden.
There is no one around.”

Braden: “Glad I could get a couple hours.
So no one’s awake yet in Sac-Town?”

Rayen: “Nobody.” She replied as Braden yawned.
“But I’m worried we were followed.”

Braden looked around,
And his heart began to hollow.

Braden; “Why is that, Grandma?
Do you think they got here first?”

Rayen: “If they did, Braden,
They’d have a time winning their purse.
Chris sent me a string of numbers,
That I was confused about.
He sent it by text though,
And I now I have no doubt-
It must be the combination,
To his P.O. Box.”

Braden: “So our attackers would have a time opening it.”

Rayen: “Unless they picked the locks.”

Braden: “Maybe they’re waiting for us to get it first.”

Rayen: “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Braden: “We’ve got this, Grandma. You and me.”

Then they struck out down their route.

The old Killingsworth Post Office was large and brick,
And smelled of mold and dust.
There were thousands of P.O. Boxes about,
And cameras to watch people you can’t trust.
They went down a corridor and automatic lights,
Began to illumine their path.
A janitor appeared from out of the shadows,
With a steam cleaner on his back.

Both the Silversmiths jumped with a fright,
But he took no notice of them there.
They continued to walk down the corridor,
And on their necks stood many hairs.

Rayen: “We’re looking for P.O. Box 292.”
Rayen reminded her grandson.

They passed the man with the steam cleaner,
And in a moment, his charade was done.

The man with the cleaner tried to pickpocket,
Rayen as they passed by.
Braden’s eagle eye caught the man’s hand,
And Braden let out a cry.

The men sprung to action and Braden struck first,
Knocking the older man out.
A simple leg sweep and palm strike to the head,
Made Braden almost pout.

Braden: “Too easy.” Braden said with a smile,
But then they both heard a sound,
A mechanical whirring near the walls,
And they looked from the ceiling to the ground.

Rayen: “We may have company in a minute.
The cameras are shifting their view.”

Braden: “That means cops and not more attackers?”

Rayen: “I wouldn’t bet on it. Would you?”

There was then a mad scramble as the two of them worked,
To find and open Chris’s box.
The blur of a moment led to a tape,
And it was simply labeled: “Talks.”

Braden slipped the microcassette into his pocket,
And the two began to leave,
Rayen ran ahead of Braden,
Panic making it hard to breathe.
She rounded a corner in the corridor,
And thought that she was home free,
But a half dozen barrels fitted with silencers,
Was all that she could see…

Hi I’m Joshua, and I’m resurrecting Epic Poetry for modern nerds like you! Come join me at JoshuaDavidLing.com or just about anywhere on social media!

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