A DAY OF WRECKONING
A short story by Melvin and Cody English 8-8 10-26-08
Who Dun It?
It was a late day for Muhammad. Usually he kept it to a noon wake up call but today he was just wiping the grogginess out of his eyes at two. It was an important day for him. He was going to attend a speech where millions would be watching. He strongly disagreed with the views of this dictator that had enslaved half of the world of his own people. He had a big surprise for them, a really big surprise. When he was getting ready, dressed packed and so on, he couldn’t find his tools. These weren’t the tools you would find normally in a house. These were state if the art, make and defuse a bomb with, so strong can withstand anything tools. This is what his trade required. Being a thief was hard work. Constantly running, the stereotypes of his race didn’t help but he had never stolen anything big, only candy store size jobs. Never would he put someone’s life in his hands, or in danger due to his actions. Never. He sighed. No use in finding them now he thought to himself, I’m late as it is. Muhammad descended the numerous flights of stairs leading to the coffee shop in his building. He saw a strange person for this part of his town, a military official. All dressed up with a crisp, starchy uniform that made him look important. Muhammad decided to eaves drop on their conversation: “You got the umm, package?” inquired the guy in the uniform. “Yah but do youz got de money?” replied the owner “Right here my good man.” Said the military man, who then produced a large laundry sack filled, with what Muhammad presumed was bills. The owner quickly snatched the sack and ran off squeaking giddily to himself, leaving behind two small packages rapped tight in white cloth with a strange cylindrical shape jutting out from underneath. Probably some fancy bread thought Muhammad. Muhammad went to the subways as his method of transport to get to the speech. An elderly man looked him at cautiously, as if expecting something of him. “What do you want, I’m not a terrorist!” challenged Muhammad. The man quickly looked down at her feet and her face was flushed of color. Muhammad hated this. I hate living where you have to tell people you’re not a terrorist he thought I’m just a simple thief. Nothing more. He sat down on the nearest bench absorbed in his music. It would be a long ride. Maybe I can go back to sleep… as Muhammad sleeps he does not wake when the same man in the uniform as in the coffee shop walks in and places one of the white parcels under his seat. The old man does not see nor hear this either.
SKYLER It was an early day for Skyler. His day started around four A.M. He was the head of the military of his people and looking around he smiled to himself. This is a grand place to live. Even his thoughts were laced with a heavy British accent. Today he would accomplish one of his many goals. : Commander of the army. Although Leon Malemitllli was the current commander, Skyler had a feeling that he wouldn’t be for long. He looked around his room again. It was in a perfect state of cleanliness and neatness. He went to his center left drawer for his shirt, bottom for his pants, top for his tie and his closet for his hat. He also struggled with a hefty sack filled with Euros, fifty thousand to be exact. By 2 P.M. he was on his way to the coffee shop where he was meeting a friend. He needed to obtain a very expensive package. This is why he was even bothering lugging the huge sack of bills through town. When he arrived he saw the American manager at the counter. Ugh filthy Americans thought Skyler we’d be better off without them. As he approached he noticed a young Arabian boy, probably in his twenties. Skyler’s face took on one of distaste. Its reasons like that boy there why some people can’t be trusted. When Skyler reached the counter the Manager looked at him expectantly: “Do you have the, umm, special package?” asked Skyler “Aye but do youz got de monee?” Inquired the manager. “Right here my good man” said Skyler as he produced the sack of bills from under the table. The manager ran off giddily to himself squealing like a pig. He had left behind two tightly wrapped, starched stiff packages that had a cylindrical shape jutting out of the fabric that covered them. Nice workmanship admired Skyler to himself. That was one thing you could rely on an American for: decent workmanship. Skyler quickly ran to the subways making sure the train he needed would still be there. The same Arabian man was sitting in the subway along with a man in his early forties. Poor men thought Skyler they’ll be caught up in my actions now. Skyler deposited the one of the two packages under a subway bench. Neither man saw nor heard anything. Good thought Skyler. Now there will be no witnesses. You be the judge. Witnesses for what? Who is that old man? And most importantly what are in those packages?
The old man awoke early. He was excited. Not only would he be on a sightseeing trip but he would also be seeing a speech given by one of the most powerful men on the Earth! His tour was to begin in fifteen minutes so he was already downstairs in the lobby of his hotel. James was in the bathroom when the bus pulled up and a miscounted head count had made it seem as if everyone was there. The bus pulled off leaving the saddened James in the cloud of dust it left behind. He sighed. Oh well he thought I’ll just take the subway to the speech. The only subway that was leaving that would stop in a vicinity of the plaza where the speech was given was a 2 P.M. train. All that was left to do was wait…for six hours! He decided to take a walk and see the sights, Big Ben and such. He had also seen the plaza where the speech was being given but no one was allowed in yet, so James couldn’t wait there. When the clock chimed 2, James was already on the subway along with an Arab youth. Strange to see one of these out here he thought. “I’m not a terrorist you crotchety old man!” the Arab yelled at James. James turned a shade of pink as the Arab dozed off in to sleep. James barely noticed the man who came in and deposited a strange package under a bench on the subway. James rushed over and picked it up and was turning to give it to the man but he was already gone. James put it back under thinking to himself if I keep it here he will remember and come back for it. Ten minutes later the train pulled up to his stop. The Arab bolted out the subway covering something, bucket shaped. Protestor probably. James walked up the stairs letting the sun warm him. No need to hurry he could miss the beginning of the speech. He could hear the man speak as he reached the top step. “That is why I have decide to declare wa-“ BOOM! A bomb went off. It killed the speaker and most of the onlookers as well. James was terrified. He couldn’t move from the spot he was in. Then he heard it. A ticking from the subway…that could only mean one thing: another bomb. James sprinted screaming “There is a bomb on the subway!” but no one listens to a man like him. Everyone who had survived the bombing swarmed to the subways, then a horrifying second explosion sounded and as James watched in horror, all of those people were dead too. Now the question still remains: who dun it? Why would they do it and what ever happened to the speaker?
Muhammad When the train pulled up Muhammad ran out of the subway as fast as he could. He was late. Now he might fail in his obligations. He quickly ascended big Ben with the stealth and quickness that only a thief could posses. Under his shirt was a bucket filled with blood. Not just any blood though: blood of a human. The man who had stood up to Leon and was eventually sliced diced and threw in a gutter. That man was Muhammad’s father. He had only been twelve at the time and he swore a vendetta against the evil ruler since. Muhammad was ready to pour. The word he needed was war. He listened: “That is why I have decided to declare wa-“ Muhammad poured then heard the sound of an explosion from the base of the building. Muhammad quickly descended from the tower of Big Ben, and was heading for the subway when two police officers tackled him. “Siete in arresto per l'assassinio di Leon!” They only spoke Italian but Muhammad understood. He was being arrested for the murder of Leon Malemitilli. Muhammad saw the same old man from the subways look at him screaming about a second bomb and then there was a second explosion, this time in the subways. It was enough to send the cop car spiraling in to the air and land on a spiked fence. Muhammad looked in to the front seat hoping for the men to be alive but they weren’t One had his head impaled on the spikes of the fence. The other was torn in two from the collision. Muhammad murmured a prayer of sorrow for the two and then took the key off the dead body of the one called Cody. He unlocked the handcuffs and was heading out the door when a person grabbed his arm, He saw the old man there. His face was smeared with blood. The old man opened his mouth to talk: “I know who did this he croaked.” And then passed out in Muhammad’s arms. Ironic isn’t it? How the person you suspected of doing the crime was a victim, not the suspect? The question still remains: who dun it? Who does James suspect? Where is Skyler?
SKYLER Skyler jumped around merrily. All had gone to his plans. The people from the secret service were already calling him commander. He ran, clicked his heels and then fell on his face. He never had been an agile person. When all was done he said to himself, I’m going to the gym. The packages had worked perfectly. They had gone off at the right times, done there purpose and now it was time for the harder part of the job: framing someone. He had a person in mind. That Arab kid he had seen. Now he needed to find him. Skyler looked around, seeing no one he opened a small device. He had placed a tracking beacon on the coat of the Arab as he was leaving the coffee shop. He found him in a small apartment building West of the bombsite. Perfect thought Skyler now all I need to do is plant some false evidence. He had stolen the Arab’s “tools” to frame him. He had placed them in the subway and on the platform where the speech was taking place. The Arab had probably been confronted already but there was no way these lousy police could capture him. Skyler was peering inside of the apartment when he heard a terrible noise from behind him. It was a moped out of control. Skyler tried to move but his lack of mobility hindered him. He was clipped by the moped possibly breaking is left leg. He crawled his way to the curb where the Moped and its driver lay broken. The moped was fine but the driver wasn’t so lucky. He was impaled on a bench that had a splintered leg coming out of it. Poor chap. Now he had unfinished business. An hour or two later he had reached the apartment. He peered inside to find no one. The moped incident had destroyed the tracking device so he could no longer locate the Arab. He crawled through the window of the apartment and sat down. “Come out with your hands up, Skyler Segretto! You’re wanted for this mornings act of terrorism!” yelled a gravely voice. Skyler was to exhausted to move but he couldn’t go to jail he just couldn’t! He found a chair and some rope, quickly tied a loop around his neck and the ceiling. He kicked out the chair from underneath him and hung himself. His neck broke. IN seven seconds he was dead.
JAMES & Muhammad James awoke to find the Arab that he had warned standing over him wiping his face with a warm rag. He looked around. They were in a small apartment with only two windows. There was nothing except some rope and a chair. “Are you alright?” asked Muhammad in perfect English. “Yea, I can stand.” Replied James. “So you know who did this, this, this horrible thing!” “Aye, but we cannot speak of it here look out the second window.” Without moving his head Muhammad looked. He saw a pair of eyes from the military man he saw in the coffee house. It hit him then. The packages! Those were the bombs! “No need to explain who it was I know who dun it.” “Good now lets get out of he-“ he was cut off by the sound of squealing tires and the scream of pain, as there was an accident. They bolted to the police officers. James saw officer Melvin standing there yelling in to his walkie-talkie. “Officer we know who did it!” They both screamed at the same time. The officer listened as they told their tale and with a contented look on his face he barked an order in to his walkie-talkie. “It’ll be taken care of,” said Melvin. Muhammad and James walked off together at sundown, with the smell of fire and blood in the air. Together they were friends, walking towards a new beginning.
EPILOGUE When Muhammad awoke the next morning he turned on the news. It turns out the guy, Skyler Segretto, had hung himself. Too bad Muhammad thought he was a great worker. He turned off his television and flipped open his couch cushions. In it were more packages just like the ones Skyler had used. Now where else can I wreak some mayhem?
TO BE CONTINUED
© Copyright 2016 RFKENN. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Mystery and Crime
Poem / Editorial and Opinion
Poem / Romance
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