Sixteen Minutes to Midnight

Prologue

Life is like a tunnel. It's a one way trip all the way to the end, and you can't ever turn back. The choices you make are like the different branches in the tunnel - you might turn one way and find yourself in even deeper trouble than you did before, or you might turn the other way and find it's a brisk walk down some lovely flower-adorned passage. But that's not the point. Damn, this is a really confusing analogy.

Let me try again.

Life is like a tunnel. It's a one way trip to the end, and you can't ever turn back. You make choices and those choices stick with you for life. You make decisions and those come back to bite you in the ass. And eventually you reach the end. There's a light at the end of the tunnel. You think it's the way out. But really, it's just the end. And like I said, you can't ever turn back.

So yeah, everybody dies. It's inevitable. The real question is when. And more gruesomely, how. Everybody wants to die peacefully in their sleep, perhaps with some earphones plugged in and listening to some soothing melodies from an indie rock band. But not everyone gets their wish, and in some cases, you die horribly. A car crash, falling from a jetplane, spontaneous combustion - you know, that sort of thing.

Oh yeah, I'm Craig Montgomery. That's me. My uncle is called Gerald. He's a rich guy, a big name in the industry. But recently, he's fallen terminally ill. Quite sick. Terrible news. He called his family to come visit him on his reclusive island home, where he lives alone apart from his butler and caretaker. It must be quite lonely at times, and perhaps that contributed to his overall detrimental condition. But that doesn't matter now. We've come to discuss the will - who gets what, and how much, the kind of adult business I don't enjoy partaking in, but am forced to. It's a necessary evil.

"How's it going, Craig?" exclaimed a voice that startled me, shocking me out of my soliloquy. I turned to see a large rotund man, roughly my age. He looked similar to me, with brown hair and hazel eyes but his face was pudgier (he was on the chubbier side of the...size spectrum) and his features clean-shaven. He wore a brown jacket, and a red scarf constricted his neck like a snake, wounding itself tightly around him. This was Darren. And I hated Darren.

He slapped me on the back, and I felt tempted to punch him in the face. "Craig! Hey! Earth to Craig! Perhaps you need some seawater in the eyes, eh?" He started chuckling and the temptation grew larger, becoming yet more difficult to hold back. If I had a knife, I would have stabbed him. I never liked Darren, as it is evident, and given the chance, I would have probably traumatized him as a child so that he didn't incessantly bother me so as an adult. Being my cousin, of course, that made things a little more difficult. Still, we shared a certain closeness that I could not deny, and there were times when he geniunely made me laugh.

Those times were rare.

"Oh...hey, Damian."

"It's Darren."

"Yeah, well I don't particularly care."

"I know you do, Craig! Ohohoho-"

I punched him in the gut. He let out a loud cough, and then wheezed in air, rubbed his eyes and stared me down cold. "That was not very nice of you, Craig."

"Yeah, Darren, it's good to see you too."

"I didn't say tha-"

"Well, you did now."

He huffed.

"So how's life these days, Craig?"

I sighed. "It's...good, I suppose. I'll never be anywhere near as remotely successful as Uncle Gerald, for one, but I think I've made a name for myself in the industry. A household name, maybe...but you know, a name's still a name."

"Oh, Craig! Always the joker! Well, seeing as you've talked about your...um...'success', " he made sure to draw out the word 'success' with a mocking tone, "I'll talk about my success. Like, my actual success. I'll let you know I've inherited my father's business and am a very wealthy stockbroker and-"

I stopped listening. Sure, I lived well off because of my family, but at least I wasn't a dick about it. Darren on the other hand...Darren was a dick. We smalltalked for a while, I didn't really pay much attention. I met Darren's parents - Gilbert and Shannon, said hello, and then wandered about.

You see, Gerald lives on an island, and there's only really one way to get there. By boat, and so it happened that all sixteen of us going there decided to take the same boat. I found myself at the rear end of the boat, where I met one of my cousin's cousins, a distant relative, somehow related to me (I could never remember). She was tall, blonde, with a well-built frame. She worked out, and made a living as a decent golf player. Decent, I state, because her style wasn't all that good. But she was popular with the fans, and apparently that's enough for her to stay in the game.

"Hey, Sandra."

"Oh," she said, lowering her sunglasses as if with contempt, "here I am enjoying the breeze, sun on my face, and you of all people come strolling along. 'Hey, Sandra'," she mocked, "pshhhh."

I just groaned.

"Haha! I kid! Oh, Craig, you should have seen the look on your face! You know I love you, cus...wait, cus? No, cus' cus? Ah, who cares, I still love ya either way, yeah?"

"Oh, Sandra, you sly fox! No, not really, you know I don't love you."

"Craig!"

I laughed. "Oh, Sandra," I began, imitating what she just said seconds ago. And then after some joking around, I left. Sandra was fun to be around, but you wouldn't get anything intellectually stimulating out of her. Still.

I looked around some more, and then I was in one of the seating lounges, where a few businessmen and women were talking. These were Uncle Gerald's siblings - all wealthy businesspeople. The grey-haired male in the blue suit with the long moustache was Wilbur, the red haired one with the set of spectacles and a taupe blazer was Anita, and the blonde, sturdy man with the intimidating posture was her husband, Renault. I decided I would probably not chat with them, as they seemed to be having a fervent discussion about politics. I sipped a cup of coffee, and talked with Anita and Renault's daughter, Jeanne. She had just graduated from university and planned to start up her own restaraunt chain. Pretty ambitious. Despite our age differences, we were part of the same 'generation', along with Darren. Her parents and Gerald were of the same generation, and you get how it works.

"Hey, Jeanne. How's your parents these days?"

"Good. Well, at least I'm finally free. After this, I'll be able to do my own things." She let out a small relieved sigh. "Don't you just hate it when all they ever talk about is politics...and boring things?"

"Politics can be pretty interesting, actually." 

"Well...like the boring politics."

"Mmm. Would you like to talk about politics? I know my fair share of political gossip." She snorted.

"No thank you, I've had enough politics for one day, haha."

"We haven't even begun!" I cried, and then after some chatting I left. There was someone I had forgotten to greet.

I walked to the bow of the ship and greeted the boatman. He was taking a smoke break. He was a bearded guy, and very un-groomed. He had that untamed look - the wildman, as if he were a feral beast, but he was hearty, and very nice to me. We talked about the island, Gerald's condition, and then some.

"Hey there, sonny," he said, "looks like the clouds are rolling in and the weather's not so good. We better get there quick, huh? Ho ho ho!"

"Yeah, I guess so. Is there a cruise control button on this thing?"

"If there was, I'd be out of a job!" He laughed some more, and then got back to steering the boat. It rocked precariously, but I held my balance and watched from the front. The island grew closer. Slowly, but ever more closer.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. We docked soon after.

I felt the hard crunch of wood  under my sole, and I looked atop the towering hills and winding pathways to glimpse at the mansion looming above. 

This is where it all begins.