THE 3PM BOX

Chapter1: The Box The clock on the warehouse wall said 2:58 PM. Monica shifted the scanner to her other hand. Her fingers were sore. Scan. Shred. Log. Don’t ask. That was the only rule at Global Shred Logistics. Her boss, Mr. Dlamini, walked past with his coffee. He didn’t look at her. “Nobody touches the 3PM box, Monica. You hear me?” “Yes, sir.” She’d been here three weeks. Three weeks of boxes, bills, and silence. It paid R4,200 a month. Enough for rent and her mother’s medication. 2:59 PM. A delivery guy pushed a trolley through the back door. On top was a small black box. No label. No barcode. Just a piece of tape with `3PM` written in red marker. He dropped it on her table and left without a word. Monica stared at it. Her heart was beating weird. The rule was clear. Don’t ask. She picked up the box. It was light. Too light. She shook it. Something moved inside. Paper. 2:59 PM. One minute. Her mother called yesterday. “Be careful at that new job, sister. Some jobs pay too well to be clean.” Monica had laughed it off. 3:00 PM. Before she could think, her fingers were already pulling the tape. The lid came off. Inside was a single photo. It was her. Walking to work yesterday morning. And underneath the photo, a note in messy handwriting: `RUN.` `THEY KNOW YOU OPENED IT.` `PROJECT SILENCE IS NOT A JOKE.` The warehouse door slammed shut behind her. Footsteps. Coming fast. Monica grabbed the photo and the note and ran.