Chapter 2

"Hey, can't you hear me? Get my package already!" Harry banged his greasy hot dog against my glass counter, impatience written all over his face.

Each tap felt like it was drilling straight into my nerves.

I took a deep breath, my nails biting into my palm, letting the pain steady me.

It was 2 p.m. The package sat right there on the shelf behind me.

I turned around. Among all the bright, colorful parcels, that small black box bound with several loops of vented tape looked totally ordinary.

But I could hear the rustle. It was barely audible, like dry seeds rattling together. That was the sound of something alive, ready to burst free.

I picked up the box. It was light, but I knew what was inside. The thing that could wreck everything for me.

I glanced at the shipping label. It read: Biology teaching aid (silkworms).

Ha. Yeah, "silkworms." Nice try. That little brat faked the information so the seller wouldn't catch on, and I couldn't turn it down.

I turned around, box in hand, and stared right at Harry.

There was a flicker of excitement and mischief in his eyes, barely visible. Clearly, he was waiting.

Was he waiting for me to dump this ticking bomb in his hands?

No way, he had zero intention of actually taking it. He only showed up to make sure the package was here.

"This one, right?" I said, my voice raspy. "You planning to take this now?"

Harry's eyes darted around, and then he suddenly grabbed his stomach. "Ow, my stomach hurts. I gotta hit the bathroom. Hey, this thing's delicate, so keep it safe for me, alright? Don't crush it. I'll pick it up tomorrow."

With that, he turned and bolted.

As he reached the door, he threw me one last look over his shoulder, a look I would never forget.

It was pure evil, with no reason behind it, only the thrill of watching things fall apart and the desire to see me suffer.

In my previous life, I actually fell for his lies. I thought helping out a neighbor was no big deal. So I tucked it away in the coolest, most hidden corner I could find, careful not to damage the kid's so-called "silkworms."

In the end, I brought my own nightmare to life with my own two hands.

I watched him dash off, my lips curling into a slight smirk.

Thought you could just bail' I sneered to myself. Since you were so obsessed with bugs, let's see how you really liked it.

I looked down at the box quivering in my hand. Most of them were probably halfway out already.

Each roach egg case could hatch dozens of baby roaches. Multiply that by five hundred cases, and that would be over ten thousand roaches, easy.

If I didn't do something, the first wave would be crawling out tonight. I had to get it out of my hands, one way or another.

But I couldn't toss it.

Dumping a customer's package without permission meant I'd have to pay up, maybe even face legal trouble.

And if I dumped it in the trash and the roaches broke out, the whole neighborhood would be screwed. And they'd still trace it back to my shop.

I was gonna make sure it landed right where it deserved.

At that moment, the sound of shoes dragging across the floor echoed from the doorway. I knew then that the one I had been waiting for was coming.

"Hey, Daisy, did you get a bunch of cardboard boxes today? I saw a pile outside. Are those up for grabs, or did people leave them behind?" A middle-aged woman in floral pajamas with her hair permed into tight little curls waltzed right in.

Her name was Martha Scott. She lived on the fifth floor, one level below Harry's family. Around here, everyone knew her as the neighborhood scavenger.

My shop was pretty much her own free warehouse.

She'd help herself to my tape whenever she felt like it, snatch up my pens and never bother returning them, and sometimes, when I was distracted, she'd even sneak off with the little gifts tucked inside other people's packages.

In my previous life, after everything blew up, she was the first one to stir up trouble.

She brought a whole group to block my door, yelling that I'd let roaches infest her house, and forced me to pay her 6 thousand for "emotional damages."

The very next day, I spotted her downstairs, showing off her shiny new bracelet. She smiled, "That girl from out of town? She's a pushover. Scare her a bit and she'll fork over the cash."

Looking at her fat, shameless face, I couldn't help but think, this black box had finally found where it truly belonged.