The Link

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: The Imaginarium
What went wrong todays society for an event like this to happen so smoothly?

Submitted: August 17, 2017

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Submitted: August 17, 2017

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They looked like they belonged in a spy movie. Four figures sped along the road, we heard them from a mile away. Black motorcycle suits. Black helmets. Blended in well with the night. Sly silhouettes contradicting their slick and stealth like movements, with the roar of motorcycle engines.

The figures made three trips past the two-story restaurant. A business colleague and I were having dinner together on the top floor. The modern restaurant had a nice vibe. The waiters and waitresses complemented the atmosphere. The intensity of the kitchen was hinted at us, the noise wasn't overflowing us, but it was noticeable. However, we were upstairs. The racket would have increased on the first floor. But downstairs was loud from the customers anyway. Imagine Caesars palace on ecstasy, this is what the first floor was reminiscent of. But we were upstairs, a VIP lounge if you like. Quieter. Peaceful, but still atmospheric enough to have an enjoyable time.

Anyway, the motorcyclists have sped past the restaurant three times. I felt like I was the only person who has noticed them. My colleague and I sat by the window. Staring down onto the busy streets, filled with vibrant life.

The suspicious figures had come back a fourth time, but stopped. Each motorcyclist parked. Stepped off. And disappeared round a side-alley beside the restaurant. I couldn't make out the make of the motorbikes sat underneath a dim lit, flickering street light.

My attention quickly turned from the bikes to my colleague, he was trying to grab my attention. My attention then turned from him to the waitress standing next to our table. My attention then switched again, this time downwards to the menu. I ordered the restaurants 'classic burger' whilst my colleague had a more refined taste and chose the most expensive thing on the menu: lobster.

The waitress began to write down our order. She repeated what we asked for as she was writing and we nodded. Her pen separates itself from the paper. She looked up to us. Any drinks with that? Those were the words that came falling sloppily out her mouth as she froze. Her mouth froze open, and her eyes froze on an image outside.

I turned away to catch with my eyes what this waitress was staring at. The street light had been smashed. And by the four motorcycles stood one of the dark figures, stood back facing the restaurant. However, as he began to turn another light appeared. I squinted my eyes to see what this figure was holding. Once I realised what it was I opened my eyes fully to see three more figures come from around the side of the restaurant with three more of these lights. One of them raised their arm and I sniggered, thinking this was some kind of joke.

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The waitress next to me screamed. And a table further down the row of window seats yelled out "oh shit!", then my mind went blank.

Downstairs blew up in flames. A chain reaction of frights and screams engulfed the first floor. I ran to the stairs to see the chaos, to see if I could help. The fire was a creature, taking the lives of men and women.

Suddenly behind me another blast occurred, flames eating one-man whole. Screams then jumped upwards to the second floor like a hare in blinded by headlights.

In less than thirty seconds serenity had been slaughtered by mayhem. The upstairs fire had started to spread, fast. I urged myself to go down but in a moment, I remembered my colleague, I glanced behind me to see another Molotov cocktail fly through the shattered window and fall straight onto the floor. On top of the floor, however, was my colleague, face down, knocked down by the first upstairs blast. Before I could even move or shout out, the petrol bomb had landed flat on his back.

Body parts flung across the room, and where my colleague lay, the floor collapsed. Rubble crumbled down to the ground floor. The roar of three motorcycles occurred. The fourth was soon after the fourth blast. On the left hand side of the ground floor restaurant. This is where the spiralling stairs finished, and where the bar started.

The bar seemed to be the best target at this point as so many shocked and horrified faces hid for cover behind the bar. However only a fool would hide here. What does a bar have? What does every bar have? Yes, I presume you answered correctly, alcohol. And why do you not mix alcohol and fire? Yes, it's explosive. So, now fire was quickly upping its pace, and growing behind me, and the only way to get down would have to jump down half a story, into more fire. But as I thought this, the bar blew into a vicious ball of brutal inferno. The flesh of several more people scorched off them. More screams.

I looked behind me again and made a choice. Jump! I landed into the developing blaze downstairs. Tears flooded around me, but not enough to stop the firestorm.

I didn't realise it, but the fire engines were outside, people were outside. But panic overtook my mind. And I had forgotten about the swarm of smoke that immersed the building. Cough. Cough. And now it kicked in. And now it had kicked me down. I was gone.

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The walls had crumbled, wooden slabs from decorations had turned blackened and charred from where the flames had licked them. The fire was never really out, the ruins were still smoking a black cloud of death. On the inside the embers still glimmered. Black dust hung around the room, contaminating the air. As I lied in my hospital bed, being treated for the burns and monoxide poisoning, pumping me with drugs, the television spoke “please be advised, some viewers may find these pictures distressing”. You could see from the pictures that only a little amount had escaped that fire. One news broadcaster didn’t hold back, a full-on investigation into the restaurant. Glass littered floors from the huge glass windows, accompanied with rubble, cutlery, food, plates, drinks… people. If you looked carefully you could catch a glimpse of the victims.

It took minutes for those bodies to turn to crisp. The aftermath left behind sullied bodies, weeping for life. Fingers and toes had disappeared to ash, and the rest had combined a mixture of fat and clothes stuck to a gummy surface of human flesh. I couldn’t watch any longer. The hallucinations and flashbacks I saw whilst watching the news scared me. Not scaring me to make me afraid, but to make me fear how today’s civilisation can allow things like this to be broadcasted on such a huge scale, national, even international tv, profiting on my pain, others pain.

But we have lost the point. The terrorist, where have they gone. Oh, what a stupid question for me to ask. You switch channels and images of the motorcyclists appear. Broadcasting them, exposing them, but what is the point, their identity is concealed, why try. However, the story they are showing may be near pointless, but I have a feeling that the mindless people watching right now don’t understand that, and their pity won’t change anything. So, the terrorists, the fire, the broadcast. Do you ever ask yourself, could there possibly be a link?

 

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I cannot name the company that is responsible for this event, but I can tell you it is a media company. Now people talk whilst watching the news, these media companies, they love a good, juicy story to feed of and spit out to the public.

And people must think, just some people, conspiracy theorists, they must think that the media is behind it all. They’re not thinking straight.

But in the real world, bad things need to happen, and people need to get hurt. We can’t live in a society without that. Think about it, if our society today is functioning well, why take anything away from that? You see, my job is to cause these bad things, so society can continue.

This time has been my favourite so far. Three companies hired me for this job, the usual three. This job was my favourite yes, but also the most complicated. Hiring four 'terrorists' isn't the easiest of jobs. The media companies give me a budget. For this job, I was granted twenty million pounds. Two million for supplies. Four and a half million for each member that participates. I get a separate pay of five million for myself. But, the people we hire have to take a chance. You take the risk of either, getting caught, facing a lifetime of extreme ridicule, and spending the rest of your days in prison. Or, you take the risk, and you gain four and a half million pounds and get away scot free.

So, I found four people. I had run through the plan. They were ready. The operation went smoothly. The fire, the deaths, the pain. This event will go up in history, and all these media and news companies will scoop as much up as possible, and in the end, what are you left with? Money. And that's what it all rolls back to. The sociopathic CEO’s of these companies don't care about lives, families and love. They have an incompetence to see the world around them. Money is their lives. And you may be thinking, I'm a hypocrite. But go back, I've already explained why I do what I do.

The companies I work for already had vans with reporters, camera men and camera equipment all waiting a few blocks away, all I had to do was report back to them and confirm the operation went smoothly. So, within half an hour, these companies were already by the event, reporting. The event took place at quarter to ten, so it was prime time television. Breaking news! Blah blah blah. This was not breaking news, it was pre-meditated. And it took forty-eight hours for the companies to make back the money they spent on me and the operation. Forty-eight hours. And bearing in mind these companies will be reporting for weeks or months to come. All the interviews with separate parties like the victims or the owner of the place or the support lines and charities. They will tear of as much juicy fat of the bone as possible.

So, as you read this, you must be thinking, what went wrong in today's society for this to be happening. My answer is nothing went wrong because nothing has ever changed. But this is what frustrates me, this has continued for the wrong reasons, money is the big businessman reason, and that's wrong. My justification is the right reason, but people are so absorbed by money in today's culture, that they are blind to see.

My final question for you is, what would you do in my shoes?

 

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Tom Smith. All rights reserved.

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