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Final Destination

I can’t fly a helicopter, Stan shouted.  The flight stuck rumbled in his hand as the ground grew ever closer.  How did it end up like this?


The gun trembled in his hand.  It wasn’t loaded.  They hadn’t given him any ammunition. However, the trembling women at the window didn’t know that.  He looked out from the tiny eye holes carved into the mask.  The teller shoved fistfuls of cash into the bag that he held in his outstretched hand.

Stan’s head jerked in reaction to the sound of sirens reaching his ears.  He looked back to the teller who seemed just as nervous as he was.  He quickly pulled away the bag, gripping it tightly with his fist.  He turned back around to check on the other guys, who were hurrying the other tellers along.

They quickly noticed the sound of sirens approaching.  Stan’s eyes met with another man, who quickly motioned to him.  Stepping around the people who were ducked down to the ground in their fancy suits, the group followed up on their exit strategy.  Even if the police had the building surrounded, there was always the roof.

As he stumbled up the stairs, it became apparent just how much five-hundred-thousand dollars, all in hundreds, weighed.  Each step weighed heavier on him.  The only thought running through his mind was, ‘how did it end up like this?’


The knife gleamed in the sole light of the otherwise dark room.  Stacey was on the monitor, in some place that wasn’t here.  He could hear here struggling against the ropes.

“You owe us big, buddy.”

Stan gulped.  He had always payed his credit card bills on time.  Telling the man this would probably do little for his case however.  The bulge in his back pocket, carrying his wallet, rested uneasily against the seat of the chair.  Even if he drained all of his accounts, it wouldn’t be enough.

“You’re going to make us miss out on our next Michelin Star.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”  Stan pleaded.

The man twirled the big chef’s knife in his hand.  He looked Stan in the eyes and took a few steps forward.  Stand leaned back in the chair, his feet pushing against the floor.  His socks inside were still soggy and uncomfortable.

“Ey, we won’t off you just yet.  I know of a perfect way you can get us our money back.  Ingredients like those don’t come cheap, after all.  Until then, we’re keeping your girlfriend as security.”  He motioned back to the monitor.  Stacey still struggled, as she looked into the camera and screamed at him.

“You asshole.  How did it end up like this!”


The car would not stop, no matter how hard Stan forced down the break.  Smoke rose from the back tires from the emergency break being constantly held down.

Stacey was glued to the back seat, still passed out from earlier.  Luckily she wouldn’t have to worry that the break lines were probably cut.  She had her seat belt on, at least.  Safety first.

Stan looked around for anywhere he could stop the descent of the car slowly.  It was all downhill for here after all, quite literally in fact.  Stand could see the ocean coming up in the distance.  The lights on the pier were lit up nicely.  Luckily most people were down there celebrating rather than driving on the streets where they might be an unfortunate roadblock for a car that just didn’t want to stop.

The end of the road came up quickly, and all of the side streets were too tight to turn in to. A pair of men were slowly crossing the pier.  They were dressed in all white, with puffy hats.  A big tray was suspended between them, carrying what looked like a big thanksgiving turkey, but much bigger.  A long neck like an ostrich or something.

The men jumped at the sight of a car hurdling towards them, instinctively throwing the tray in the air. As the flimsy railing of the pier drew closer, there was one thought that ran through his head.  How did it end up like this?


The dinner was very pleasant.  Stand couldn’t pronounce the name, but it didn’t change the fact.  The wine also wasn’t bad.

The fat man across the table ate voraciously.  Bits of food dropped out of his mouth, and his use of the provided napkin was infrequent.  Stacey had a look of horror on her face.

“Just stay with it.  This is important.”  Stan nudged her.  “I’ll tell you later.”

Stacey didn’t respond, just stared at the spectacle, taking sips of her wine.

The man’s mouth opened with a disturbing sound.  “Those men outside are probably trailing you.  Don’t let them follow you to the Christ the Redeemer statue at the top of the mountain.”

Stan attempted to look behind them and out the window, but the large man interrupted his train of though, clearing his voice loudly.  He swore a chewed piece of meat came flying at him, just narrowly missing his ear.  “In the base of the statue is a loose stone which contains the documents.  They want them destroyed.”

The table went silent.  As a waiter walked by, Stacey grabbed at him, making sure her glass of wine was full.  The fat man eyed the waiter as he left, ensuring he wasn’t in range to hear.

“This is the key to the car you’ll need.  Take it.”  He slipped a key fob out from his sleeve and carefully pushed it over the table to Stan.  He grabbed it and stealthily shoved it into his pocket.

In a grand cacophony, the glass shattered behind him without warning, sending glass shards across his back.  The fat man’s face went blank, a tiny hole in the middle of his forehead.  He keeled over, slamming his massive head into the dinner.   The elderly manager of the restaurant ran out of the kitchen.  He jumped up and down, then ran to the window looking for the perpetrator.  “Shit, shit.”  He yelled in a heavy accent.  “This is the third time this month.  I just wanted a simple family restaurant.  How did it end up like this!”


Stay tuned later this week for the exciting conclusion beginning of this story.

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