Lyrical Short Stories: Volume I

"Another Way To Die"

"The timebomb is ticking and no one is listening" -- from 'Another Way To Die' by Disturbed.

Death.

Such a natural cause.

It can occur at any point during your timeline. Middle, end, beginning, even when you're the size of a lime.

It can occur any time.

Death.

Such an unnatural cause.

You could be murdered or slaughtered. You may give up your life to save another.  You might end up in hospital because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or you put yourself in danger on purpose just to prove a point.

In any case, it's just another way to die.

2.07pm.

I was pulled off the street and strapped to a ticking time bomb.

Only I could hear the ticking echoing in my ears. No one else could.

The masked guy told me to stand in a specific spot of London and await further instruction. I wasn't to move from my spot or contact anyone or grab someone's attention. If I did, the bomb would explode.

Even though his voice was muffled from the thickness of the cotton black mask, his voice was deep and coarse so I could tell it was a guy. In his late thirties maybe? He gave me a Nokia phone and said that when it rings, I answer it and follow instructions.

2.15pm.

I stood a few feet away from a bus stop down Oxford Street.

I'd never been to London and this was my first time. I was required to travel here by my boss. He said he'd give me a pay rise if I spied on another company or something like that. I don't remember much because my boss has that certain monotone voice that you can't help but fall asleep to.

TICK. TICK. TICK.

I didn't enjoy my job. It wasn't the reason why I woke up early every morning. The guys at work continuously ask me why don't I quit? I come out with the same thing, "I have to live somehow." But the truth is, there's this really cute receptionist, and somehow she brightens up my day every time she greets me with a smile. And I have to smile back. I'm smiling now thinking about her.

But the smile disappears when I realise, I'm not going to see her again.

3.49pm.

My ex-wife will be wondering why I haven't called to speak to the kids. We agreed that I would call every Thursday at three because the kids would have finished school by then. But we both know its because she gets Thursdays off, and she would rather 'supervise' when they're on the phone to me in case I 'poison' or 'brainwash' their tiny little minds to turn them against her. I don't know why she's being vindictive to me, she's the one who cheated on me for two years and then decided to get a divorce.

TICK. TICK. TICK.

I shake my head remembering the situation I'm in. None of that matters now. I'd give anything to hear my family's voices one last time.

5.13pm.

The Nokia rings. It's an annoying typical ringtone, but it doesn't drown out the ticking. I hesitate for a few seconds before I answer it.

I'm going to die anyway.

I accept the call and say nothing.

"Hello," a mechanical voice replies. It was one of those voice changer things you see heroes use on TV series. Like that Arrow dude. "How are you feeling at this precise moment, my friend?"

"I'm not your friend," I spit down the phone. "And do you think I'm feeling? I've got a fucking bomb strapped to me,"

"Careful," the voice answered. "We don't use the 'b' word during this phone call, its very bad manners you know," I snort at that. "Plus we don't want to cause a panic now do we? Otherwise it would end badly for you,"

I don't say anything.

TICK. TICK. TICK/.

He continues. "Now down to business, I want you to memorise some numbers, are you good at memorising?"

"Yes."

"Good," then the voice gave me one number and told me that I needed to send it two other numbers at specific times. I was about to ask why when I heard a long beep to indicate the receiver had hung up.

5.25pm.

At half five I am to send the number to 0722533306. And then again at 6.01pm to 07778460962. I repeat the numbers in my head over and over.

I can still hear that infuriating ticking noise and my heart races.

5.30pm.

I send the number. Not long after my phone rings. I'm afraid to answer it because the voice didn't say anything about this, so I let it ring.

People look at me like I'm an idiot that doesn't know their own ringtone, or why I don't hang up if I don't want to answer it.

TICK. TICK. TICK.

The phone rings for what feels like a lifetime and then it finally stops. Sweat drips down my forehead and my heart is trying to escape from my ribcage. I think about my kids, and my ex-wife. I think about how she's probably reading to them now to send them to sleep, while her fiancé roams the fridge for a beer.

5.46pm.

The phone beeps to say I have a text message. There's a little voice in my head telling me, "Don't do it. Hang in there. You've got just one more message to deliver then you're free."

TICK. TICK. TICK.

6.00pm.

I know I shouldn't look, but I could pretend I'm about to send the text message to the other number. Yeah, what harm could it do? I open it.

MADE YOU LOOK.

The ticking stops.