'Final Ramification'

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Short story (1000 words)

Submitted: July 16, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 16, 2012





By Yolanda A. Ng’oma

Nigel gazed over his office cubicle and he could feel his heart racing. His eyes shifted over the open space near the frosty glass doors that enclosed the offices of his department of the company. He watched Susan at her receptionist desk as she answered phone calls and wrote down messages she intended to pass on. He saw her pleasantly smile as those that greeted her and laugh politely at the humourless jokes her male colleagues cracked in an attempt to get her attention. He knew today was the day he could feel it deep down in his bones. He always got a feeling when something unpleasant was about to happen to him, women called it intuition; he called it instinct.

He dropped his gaze from Susan and looked down at his desk, it was a mess. He had papers from the financial reports scattered all over his work station and his computer screen was blinking with a message alerting him to a newly received email that was sitting in his inbox. He dared not open it for fear of realizing that this was really happening. He wanted to stay in denial and continue to believe that this was just a nightmare he would wake up from and laugh about with his mates over the cold beer they always shared at end of the day.

‘I can’t go to jail!’ he heard himself say on the inside. His mind was a racing paradox of insane scenarios that kept playing over and over again in his brain. They all led to the same thing, him being murdered. He knew it was coming, he knew that it was only a matter of time before they put, after all that’s how Joseph Caracas dealt with all those that crossed him.

‘Maybe I should go to the police.’ He contemplated and then quickly dismissed the idea.

What use was it when Joseph Caracas had practically bought off the entire police force? He had to get away, book a one way flight to Africa or Asia where he could just disappear into the masses and never have to worry about his safety ever again. He remembered the chills he had felt when he had received the warning phone call a few days ago.

“Pay me back my money or prepare to die.” He had been told. Oh how Nigel wished he had the money. He wished he could just write a check and the debt would be cleared but sadly that was not the case. Even with all his assets liquidated; the amount of money recoverable was peanuts compared to the enormous debt he owed. His mind drifted off to the last words his father had told him before their relationship had become estranged.

“Becoming an investment banker for that mob boss will only get you killed.” his father had told him bluntly.

“I know what I am doing old man!” Nigel had shot back, tired of his father’s constant disapproval.

“Son, sooner or later, you are bound to screw up and Joseph Caracas does not tolerate SCREW UPS!” his father had pressed on.

“I’m doing this and there is nothing you can do to stop me.” Nigel had said before walking out of his father’s home with no intention of ever returning.

Nigel played the conversation repeatedly in his mind, bitter that the old geezer had been right. For a brief second he considered asking the old man for some help but his pride would not let him. He could not admit to his father that he had failed, that he had let himself down and that his stubbornness would be the reason for his imminent demise.

At that moment he heard the main office door open and his heart nearly stopped when he saw two men in black suits enter the office and stop at Susan’s desk. His hands gripped the edge of the desk as he watched her converse with them. She was telling them something and he had no idea what it was. He watched as they all turned to him and as she nodded her head to confirm to them that he was the one they were looking for.

He saw them thank her and then turn their attention in his direction as they started towards him. Nigel got quickly got up from his desk, accidently knocking down his cup of cold coffee all over his computer keyboard.

“You alright man?” Peter, the guy whose cubicle was directly opposite his asked; startled by his sudden movements.

“I’m fine.” Nigel said as he exited his small work space and swiftly started walking down the corridor heading to the employee bathrooms. He turned around just before he turned the corner and noticed that the two suited men had quickened their pace to keep up with him. He burst into the male restrooms and locked the door behind him, he then rushed to the window by the sink looking out to the building’s car park, and he cracked it open and pushed it up with urgency as he heard the men banging against the door.

Adrenaline was now fully flowing in his system. He slid his body through the window just as the restroom door burst open. He dashed across the car park to where his car was parked never once glancing back as his pursuers. He reached his car and opened the door, he threw himself into the driver’s seat and was about to start the engine when he felt the cool barrel of a gun press against the back of his head.

“Where are you going Nigel?” he heard a hoarse voice ask.

“Please...I’m begging you...tell Mr. Caracas that I just need more time.” he pleaded his voice shaky with fear.

“Time for what Nigel? To make a run for it?”

“No, to get the money.” he lied.

“No one steals from the big guy Nigel; did you really think we wouldn’t notice the little discrepancies in your so called ‘financial reports’?”

“I’m sorry...you need to understand...I needed the money, and I was going to pay it back.”

“I don’t need to understand anything boy...last time I checked, gambling wasn’t a need...I’m done talking; start the car and let’s go somewhere this will be a lot less messy.” He heard the voice say as the gun pressed even deeper into the back of his head.

“Please...I...” Nigel began.

“No arguments, you are wasting my time! Do as you are told; I have another appointment after I’m done with you.” the voice said coldly.

Nigel drew in a breath, one he knew would be one of his last and ignited the engine; ready to drive to his last destination. His death would be the final ramification of his actions.

© Copyright 2018 Ngoma Yolanda. All rights reserved.

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