Unfinished Business

Unfinished Business

Unfinished Business

He tapped his fingers on the dashboard.

Tap-Tap-Tap Tap Tap-Tap.

Friday evening traffic was at a dead stop in both directions. The clock blinked.

4:45.

Horns echoed and dominoed down the long line of cars, tensions building in the low, evening sun.

“Oh shit,” he said to himself. “I’ve got to finish this.”

He slammed his foot down on the gas. The back wheels spun in place and squealed on the hot pavement. Smoke began to rise around the car as it twisted back and forth.

The wheels gained traction and he blasted towards the shoulder on the left side of the freeway. The gas pedal was pressed hard to the floor. The car gained speed.

He raced underneath an overpass and pulled the e-brake. The car whipped around and he gunned it again. The shoulder was angled under the overpass, forming a ramp between the cement pillars. He pointed the car towards the small gap near the top of the ramp. The car raced towards it.

He climbed towards the top of the slanted support ramp, clipping the side view mirror on a pillar. It shattered and ricocheted back to the pavement below.

The car barely squeezed through the gap between the ramp and the bottom of the overpass. Sparks flew as the car’s roof scraped the cement approaching the edge.

The front tires left the concrete and the car launched high into the air. It soared higher, wheels still spinning.

It cleared the left lane of traffic.

It cleared the next lane.

The car reached its peak and began to descend.

It cleared the next lane.

It began to fall.

The car came crashing down atop another in the far right lane. The stationary car crumbled under the weight and violent impact.

He continued stepping on the gas, wheels spinning as his car teetered on the twisted metal beneath him. One of his wheels caught traction and the car moved forward, bouncing back down to the pavement.

Taking a quick glance in the rearview mirror, he saw the car he landed on had caught flames. The clock blinked.

4:46.

He raced up the off ramp and took a hard, drifting right back onto the downtown surface streets.

He raced down the street, weaving in and out of cars in both directions.

The next block up ahead was blocked with an accident. On the right side of the road near the curb, a moving truck was unloading boxes with its loading ramp down. He steered towards the truck.

The delivery men dropped their boxes and dove off the truck.

The car’s left side tires raced up the ramp and sent the car into a barrel roll through the air.

It burst through the side of the moving truck sending chunks of metal and boxes in all directions.

The car completed a rotation and came crashing down on the sidewalk. Pedestrians dove out of the way, diving through the closest windows and doors.

He kept going, gaining speed with every inch – a wake of destruction behind him.

He saw a clearing in the road ahead and veered left through a newspaper stand. The stand exploded in a mushroom cloud of wood splinters and paper.

He peeled back onto the road and continued down the block.

He pulled the e-brake again and came to a spinning, screeching stop in front of a high-rise office building. The clock blinked.

4:47.

He got out his car and sprinted towards the revolving doors. The open car door continued to ding behind him. He darted through the building’s doors, sending them flying into a fast spin, knocking someone exiting the building onto their face.

“Forget again?” a woman in a business suit said. “Come on, Jerry. Jeeze.”

“Fuck you, Janice. Fuck you.”

The woman shook her head and continued on her way.

The security guard at the front desk stood up.

“Come on, Jerry, you know you’ve got to sign in,” the security guard said.

“FUCK OFF!”

He continued past the front desk down the hallway. The elevator was on its way down. He clicked the call button repeatedly.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The elevator doors opened and a group of businessmen began to exit. Jerry ran into the elevator, body checking the men, sending them to the ground. He clicked the button for the 17th floor.

“Ouch! What the hell Jerry?” one of the men on the ground said.

“Shut the fuck up, Richard.”

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The elevator reached the 17th floor.

He stepped over the businessmen on the floor and out of the elevator. The door closed behind him.

He headed down the hall towards a dark office. He clicked on the light switch and tapped the power button on his computer. Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap!

Blaaaaaaaaa-Ding!

The computer started powering on.

Jerry braced himself on the desk over the keyboard.

The screen came up and he moused towards his email.

 

Clickclickclickclickclick!

He clicked “Compose”.

To: d.robinson@fdjfinancial.com
CC: w.brown@aqco.net

From: j.chesterfield@fdjfinancial.com

Subject: Weekly Earnings Report for AQCO Account

Body:

Mr. Robinson,

Attached is the Weekly Earnings Report you requested.

The new account is looking great. Growth is steady. I don’t recommend any changes at this time. Please let me know if you have any questions.

Thanks and have a great weekend,

Jerry

Attachments: aqcoweeklyearning.xls

Send.

The End!