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Ride

By: Samaratime

Page 1, A man sits in a office room, in the process of going through a job interview. The job interview becomes a lot more interesting when a catastrophe happens right outside the office, offering him a front row seat to witness a deadly scene

“ It says you have been working in sales for 5 years under Remture’s Insurance Company?”

 

“ Yes,” I replied. 

 

Mr. Mulligan ruffled around my papers, making a few ahs and mm’s as he looked over my resume. Waiting for my judge to make his deliberation I shifted my attention to the traffic outside the office window. I was sitting in an office on the third floor overlooking a popular tourist street. The street was chaotic; there was so much going on. Traffic stopping, people honking, people wearing different shades of every color walking here, or going there. In the mist of all the commotion a biker caught my attention. He was wearing a red jacket with the words Ready to Rumble on the back. Despite the advantage of having a motorcycle, he was still unable to navigate through the traffic.

Mr. Mulligan’s voice brought me back. “Why did you decide to leave Remture’s company?  From what I have heard your father is the CEO, correct? I mean, certainly it cannot be the wage, we all know Remture’s employees are treated very well.” I managed a small laugh.

“ Indeed we are, or at least I was. This information has not been released but Remture’s is about to be handed over to new management. My dad and my brother used to run it together, but I don’t think my father is up for the job anymore. It brings around to many bad memories.”

“ I’m sorry to hear about that,” Mr. Mulligan said uncomfortably. It was obvious offering sympathy was not something he was good at, or comfortable with.

He quickly got up from his chair and started looking for papers in his desk cabinet, rambling about the job he was offering me.

My attention drifted back to the motorcyclist, he had a MV Agusta F4CC, the motorcycle equivalent to a Ferrari. It was painted a black and silver color with a hint of red that flashed in the sunlight. I could see the motorcyclist had expensive taste, much like my brother Johnny. My brother loved motorcycles, and owned about 10 of them. But whenever he wanted to feel suave, and impress some ladies he always took out his MV Agusta. His MV Agusta was similar to the motorcyclist, it was painted silver and black but had a hint of blue added instead of red. I remember when Johnny and I used to ride up to the coast of Miami. My dad's friend owned a large portion of land up there that was just open terrain. Whenever we would head up there, my brother would grab his motorcycle, and I would grab my Aston Martin V12 Vanquish S. I guess you could say we had the clique verse “a need for speed”. I can’t explain the feeling we got when we drove over 100 miles per hour on the open property. The rush of excitement we felt with the wind blowing, our engines revving, our bodies becoming apart of our vehicles. The moments I experienced out there are every sports car fanatics dream.

The sound of Mr. Mulligans voice made be jump in my chair  “ I’ll be back in one moment, let me get you the forms.”  I smiled and tried to make it seem that I had paid attention to his rambling, even though he had clearly caught me off-guard.

 

The noise of horns and cars screeching stole my attention away again; and with Mr. Mulligan out of the room, I allowed myself to give the street my undivided attention. On the crowded street below I looked down to see 2 cars almost collide when one of the cars made an illegal turn from the left hand lane. At that moment pedestrians were crossing the street, and some of them did not react to kindly to almost getting hit. About ten people started yelling at the drivers in the middle of the street, despite the fact that the traffic light had turned green once again.  I looked down the road and saw the motorcyclist making his was up the street. Gliding in between cars, trying to zip through traffic. He was obviously unaware of the situation lying ahead.  In an instant I was up at the office window, knocking on the glass trying to warn him to slow down and pay attention. The motorcyclist kept edging toward the commotion, which started my screaming “ Johnny no! You have to stop! This time stop,” I yelled. People were looking up at the window now, staring at me probably thinking I had just heard bad news, and was going off in rage.

I didn’t care, I pounded harder on the window. Despite the noise I was making the motorcyclist was unable to hear anything because of the blowing car horns, and the angry mob gathering on the sidewalk. Only a fool would keep on going fast in this type of traffic, but that is exactly what this motorcyclist was.

Then it all happened, he tried to zoom past the traffic only to collide with an SUV, which was traveling at least 20 miles above the speed limit. The motorcyclist black helmet caught my eye, and I watched it fly up in the air and land 15 feet from where he was. Then all panic broke lose. People were screaming, and the sound of an ambulance rang from every corner in the office room.

The sound of an opening door made my heart jump, and I tore my gaze from the window to face Mr. Mulligan.

“ I have the forms” he said, “are you ready to sign?”

© Copyright 2014Samaratime All rights reserved. Samaratime has granted theNextBigWriter, LLC non-exclusive rights to display this work on Booksie.com.

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