《11th Hour》


 Chapter 1

    ¡°On an otherwise nice and normal Monday morning, I burned to death. Rather, in the interest of full accuracy, I should say that I choked on smoke, passed out, then burned to death. But saying ¡®I burned to death¡¯ is much more dramatic, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I leaned on the bridge railings and glanced at my conversation partner, a balding mid-40s salaryman dressed in a rumpled suit paired with an even more rumpled spirit. He clutched an almost empty bottle of liquor close to his chest, vacant gaze fixed behind me on the river flowing beneath the bridge.


    I followed his gaze. The river seemed deceptively still and peaceful, reflecting the beautiful full moon hanging above us. Underneath the surface though, the current was swift and strong, capable of promptly drowning anyone unfortunate enough to fall in. I should know, we were both still soaking wet, courtesy of said river.


    ¡°Anyway, where was I? Right, burning to death. What I¡¯m trying to say is, drowning was a wise choice on your part. Much better than burning to death.¡±


    If the drunk salaryman was listening, he showed no signs of it. But that was fine. This was for me as much as it was for him.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not fish you out again. Once is enough. Before I leave you to it though, I hope you¡¯ll listen to my story. I promise I¡¯ll leave right after. How does that sound?¡± I asked.


    The salaryman took a swig of alcohol in lieu of a reply, still staring at the river.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as an agreement then. Speaking of, do you mind if I take a sip too? Why did you have to pick winter of all times for a swim? No? Oh well¡­ I guess it all started with an important meeting starting at noon and me riding a bus,¡± I said.


    I looked up at the moon above us. I still couldn¡¯t get enough of the sight. ¡°Ah. That damned bus¡­¡±


    ***


    I fidgeted nervously on the bus seat while my finger tapped the windowsill to the beat of my pacing heart. A trickle of sweat ran down my neck. I glanced at my wristwatch¡ª10:44. It was just a battered old digital watch, not a smartwatch that was all the rage these days. Perhaps it was a bit old-fashioned for a young professional like myself, but I liked having an object with the singular and specific purpose of timekeeping.


    I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Just an hour and sixteen minutes until the defining moment of my career. An hour and sixteen minutes before I present my strategy to the board of directors and current Chief Marketing Officer. The same CMO who was due for retirement and looking for a successor. This presentation would make or break my career. Succeed, and I¡¯d be CMO within the year. Fail, and I''d be stuck in my current position for years and years while one of my rivals ran ahead.


    I shuddered at the thought. I¡¯d rather resign and look for another job. With the amount of bad blood between us, the one promoted would make life a living hell for the rest.


    I ran through the details of my proposed strategy once more. Everything was perfect. Of course it was. I¡¯ve paid my dues, pulling a series of all-nighters that I¡¯m sure had shortened my lifespan by months, if not years. I¡¯ve poured blood, sweat, and tears to perfect this strategy in the limited time we were given. I was as prepared as I could be. I knew my plan was the best. I just had to not mess up the presentation.


    I checked the time. 10:46.


    This is torture.


    I can¡¯t even tell if I want time to move faster or slower. I leaned back, feeling the engine vibration through the bus seat. Or perhaps I was the one trembling.


    A baby started crying in the back row. On any other day, I wouldn¡¯t even have noticed it, lost in thoughts of work. But today¡­ today it seemed particularly piercing. Each grating cry and wail an indictment from my nonexistent conscience. I searched my briefcase pocket for my earphones, but it wasn¡¯t there. I¡¯d been too distracted and rushed when I left this morning I suppose. I resigned myself to an uncomfortable ride, but fortunately, the crying baby and his mother got off at the next stop.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    In exchange, a gaggle of teenagers in school uniform boarded, whispering and joking with each other. I placed my briefcase on the empty window seat next to me to discourage company. The teenagers sat across the aisle to my left.


    One part of me envied them for their youth. Still so vibrant and full of hopes. Another part of me hated them for being too na?ve and impressionable. I knew it wasn¡¯t fair to blame them, but I couldn¡¯t help but wish they¡¯d be more discerning.


    I exchanged seats with my briefcase. I wouldn¡¯t have bothered moving on any other day. Especially if it involved me sitting near the tinted windows. But today¡­ today the window seat doesn¡¯t seem that bad after all. At least it put more distance between me and their joyful laughter.


    I glanced out the window, looking past my hollow-eyed reflection. The people and buildings outside blurred into one incoherent mess. I heaved a deep sigh and closed my eyes. Suddenly, it all seemed pointless. Endless meetings, all-nighters, and office politics. A never-ending stream of presentations, meaningless emails, and fake smiles.


    What am I doing? How did I get here?


    I leaned forward and cradled my head in my arms. I had entertained the thought of quitting my job countless times by now, but every time I managed to convince myself to hold on. It was too late to turn back. I have done too much, sacrificed too much, to quit now. This was the last stretch of the road to success. Just one more presentation, one more sacrifice, and I would be CMO. That should be enough to satisfy me, right? I would undoubtedly have ¡°made it¡±. The current CMO earned $400k annually. How could I possibly not be considered successful when I could earn that much?


    My heart thumped painfully in my chest.


    I just needed to get myself together. This is just a minor breakdown. A nervous jitter before an important presentation. Yes. Nothing more than that.


    I breathed deeply, in and out, in and out. I was feeling much better already.


    I¡¯m going to ace the presentation, become CMO, and succeed in life.


    "Last stop!" the bus driver shouted.


    My eyes shot open. I was the only passenger left on the bus. An impossible occurrence in this city. In the afternoon, the only deserted buses were those marked ¡°Out of Service¡±. But I didn¡¯t have the attention to note down this irregularity. I thought I just heard the bus driver call this the last stop.


    "Hey! Sir, it''s the last stop," the driver called again.


    My heart sank. I didn¡¯t mishear him after all. I looked around at the unfamiliar buildings outside the tinted windows.


    "Where are we?" I asked.


    "Last stop. You need to get off now," the driver said.


    In a trance, I collected my briefcase and stumbled my way to the front of the bus, frantically looking for a trace of familiarity.


    "Can you tell me where we are exactly? I thought this was bus number 8?" I asked.


    "It''s number 13. Look man, just get off the bus. I still have things to do," the driver said.


    I couldn''t believe it. Did I take the wrong bus? I''m going to be late for the presentation! I opened a map app on my phone. But it wouldn''t load. There was no internet signal. Nor reception.


    How is this possible? Are the phone towers down or something? How do phones work, anyway?


    The bus driver placed a hand on my shoulder. "Sir, you need to get off now."


    "Yes, I will. Sorry, I just- where are we exactly? My phone''s acting up and I have no reception or internet. Can you just tell me where we are?"


    The driver was slowly but firmly pulling me towards the exit as I babbled. Before I knew it, I was near the front door. Looking at the driver''s annoyed expression, I knew his patience was running thin.


    "Okay, okay. I''m getting off. Please just tell me where we are. Wait no, tell me which bus I should take to reach the Stratos Tower. Just tell me that. It''s really important."


    "There''s no more bus passing through here," the bus driver said in an indifferent voice.


    "What?! It''s barely midday. What do you mean there''s no more bus?" I asked.


    This can''t be happening to me. Of all days to get on the wrong bus, it just had to be today.


    The driver tried to push me out the door, but I held on with desperate strength. This was my future at stake.


    "Wait! Wait, at least tell me how to get to Stratos tower," I said in a last bid for directions.


    The driver stopped trying to push me off the bus and pointed behind me. "Just go up this street. You''ll find what you want at the end of it."


    I turned around to look at the street he was pointing toward¡ªan uphill, one-way street. Like the bus, it was eerily deserted.There should have been at least a couple of people walking on any given street in this city.


    Before I could ask him if he was sure, I felt a sharp shove from behind.


    I fell forward and sprawled on the sidewalk. Behind me, the bus door closed with a hiss. It rumbled away to the distance, trailing noxious smoke.


    I stared blankly at the pavement in front of my face, hardly able to process what had just happened.


    My neck flushed red with anger. I shot up to my feet and shouted my outrage at the rapidly disappearing bus.


    Soon, it was nothing but a speck on the horizon.


    "What an asshole," I muttered to myself.


    At least the anger had snapped me out of my funk. I collected my briefcase and checked the time.


    It was 11:01.


    I have less than an hour before the presentation.

 Chapter 2

    I was completely lost and had less than an hour to reach Stratos Tower for the presentation.


    The driver told me to just follow the street to reach Stratos Tower, but how far is it? I really hope he didn''t just point in a random direction to get me off the bus.


    I paced back and forth as I thought things through. Half expecting failure, I checked my phone again. Indeed, there was still no reception nor internet. Even the GPS function didn''t work.


    Did my phone break? Today of all days. Damn. No, calm down. I don''t even know if the driver was telling the truth, but moving in any direction is better than staying still. Wait, aren''t you supposed to stay in place when you get lost? Ah crap, I''m wasting precious time here.


    I checked the time¡ª11:06. A jolt of panic ran through my veins at the sight.


    Still pacing, I smoothed out the creases in my suit, straightened up my tie, and finger combed my hair with practiced motions. Even without looking at a mirror, I knew I looked picture-perfect and professional again. Ready to challenge the world.


    I picked up my briefcase from where it laid at the sidewalk, then took off at a brisk pace up the uphill street.


    Fine, let''s give it a try. Better to move than stagnate. This is the worst. Completely lost and now stranded with no way to hail a ride. What if I can''t reach the tower on foot in an hour? No, I need to think of another way. This is a life-or-death matter.


    I glanced back periodically, hoping I would spot a vacant taxi. Or even an occupied one. I wouldn''t mind sharing the ride. I would even settle for any passing vehicle to beg a ride from. Resorting to hitchhiking was distasteful, but it would solve all my problems.


    Considering the deserted state of the street though, I had little hope of a vehicle conveniently passing by in that exact moment. But that was exactly what happened. It was no taxi, but there on the horizon I saw a car approaching.


    Elated, I waved my left hand to hail the car. "Hey! Hey! Can you give me a ride? Hey!"


    The car sped past.


    They didn''t even slow down. Did they not see me or something?


    On the bright side, this meant that the street wasn''t completely deserted after all. I just had to stop the next car and ask for a ride.


    I resumed walking up the street. Even if it was negligible, I want to cover as much distance as I could.


    At 11:11, I heard the distant rumble of an approaching vehicle.


    Whipping around, I saw the vehicle instantly. It was speeding along at 50-60 mph and would be near me in seconds. I jumped up and down vigorously, shouting my lungs out.


    It sped past me without even a honk.


    I stared blankly at the retreating taillights.


    This is ridiculous. What am I doing wrong? They can''t have missed me jumping and shouting like that. The next one for sure.


    Stopping in place, I turned around and kept my eyes peeled. With the deserted state of the street, there''s no guarantee that the next passing car would not be the last. I had to be ready to seize the chance.


    I swallowed nervously, hyperaware of the passing time. My chance of making it in time for the meeting is getting smaller and smaller with every minute that slipped past. I held my briefcase in a tight grip, the leather handle creaking ominously.


    Finally, at 11:13, I saw an approaching vehicle in the distance. Like all the others before it, it was speeding just a tad too fast for what was appropriate in the city. But I couldn''t care less. In fact, I hoped they would pick me up and then go even faster. I dropped my briefcase and waved my hands above my head with all my might.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    "Hey! Heeeeyyy! I need some help! Please stop! Wait, no. No! Stop! Stop! Stop you asshole!"


    My heart sank as the car sped past without slowing down. My throat was sore from all the shouting, my arms felt like lead weights were tied to them from all the waving around I did. I might have even pulled a muscle on my shoulder.


    This can''t go on. Why aren''t they stopping? Am I doing this wrong?


    Desperate, I went off the sidewalk and stood in the middle of the four-lane street, hoping to at least have a chance of stopping a car.


    Almost instantly, I saw a black car approaching from the distance. I profess I wasn''t that familiar with cars. The city had a very robust public transport infrastructure and was clearly the superior option. Or so I thought before I met that damned bus driver.


    The approaching car was all sharp edges and painted matte black. Even to my uninformed eyes, I knew it was different from the rest. I''ve seen sport cars before, but this car was clearly a notch above.


    Now that''s a ride I can get behind.


    "Hey! I''m sorry, but can you please stop! I need some help!" I shouted. I didn''t like the way my voice trembled with desperation, but it would hopefully convince them to stop.


    It didn''t. The car barreled towards me without any signs of stopping.


    Are you really not going to stop? What the hell!


    With barely seconds to spare, I balked and threw myself back to the sidewalk. The black car sped past me.


    What is wrong with these people?!


    I checked the time and felt my heart stutter. It was already 11:14.


    Left with no other choice, I sprinted up the street.


    Barely a minute later, I was gasping like a landed fish. My heart tightened uncomfortably as it pounded crazily in my chest. A river of sweat ran down my neck, back, and thighs. The itch was torture. I was wearing dress shoes unsuitable for running, so my feet were aching.


    I slowed to a stop and hunched over. The brisk, winter air burned on my lungs, contrasted by the blazing heat from the sun above. I tasted something sweet on the back of my dry throat.


    I can''t do this. I''m dying. I''m dead.


    The sound of my hoarse breathing filled my ears. A rattling, pathetic, wheeze that highlighted how out of shape my body was. But I couldn''t help myself. I have a genetically weak heart. Exercising in my condition would require more care and time than I could afford.


    Ah, who am I kidding? I was just too lazy to exercise. I swear I''ll start exercising regularly if I make it through this.


    I took off my tie and tucked it in my suit pocket, it was choking me. I forced my uncooperative legs to speed-walk up the street.


    The slope uphill isn''t that bad. I can still make it if I don''t tire myself out. I can probably jog my way there if I push myself a bit. Running like that was dumb of me.


    Calm down, think. Pace yourself. What do I do?


    As I powerwalked, I kept my head on a swivel, eyes peeled for a solution. The buildings on both sides of the street were dark and lifeless.


    How is the street this desolate? Where''s all the people?


    As if in response to my thoughts, I saw a boy of about 10 years old just ahead. There were no adults around him as far as I could tell. I followed the child''s gaze upwards and saw a dozen colorful balloons stuck on a horizontal cloth awning above him.


    Damn. I don''t have time for this. I need solutions, not more problems. Sorry kid.


    I jogged past the boy, ignoring the sound of him jumping behind me.


    I didn''t turn back. I had no time.


    The boy continued jumping.


    Fine, I need to catch my breath anyways.


    I stopped and turned around to face the boy. "Hey, kid, stop jumping and get an adult to help you. You''ll fall."


    The boy ignored me. He saw nothing else but the balloons above him.


    His task was a hopeless one. The balloons hung too far above him. Even I couldn''t reach them. I might if I jumped with all my might though.


    I should help him. It''s the right thing to do. But how long will that take? There''s a dozen or so balloons. I''ll have to jump a dozen times. and be even more tired than I am now. And that''s assuming I manage to snag one balloon in every jump. Sorry but I have my own problems. I can''t waste time and energy here. It''s not like you''ll die without those balloons, just take it as a life lesson. You should''ve held on tight to the things precious to you.


    "Kid, stop jumping. You''ll trip and fall. I''m sorry, but I''m in a rush. Wait for the next adult," I said.


    I resumed my jog. I really couldn''t afford to waste more time here.


    I heard something fall behind me.


    I paused. Damn it.


    Just as I turned around, a yellow bus roared past on the street to my left. The wind of its passing hit me like a wave, ruffling my hair.


    Was that red paint on its bumper?


    I looked around for the boy who had fallen, but there was no sign of him.


    Nothing but an ominous red smear on the street. The balloons hung above in silence, abandoned.


    I stared at the empty street.


    Wha? What the hell?


    I looked up the street, but the bus was long gone by then.


    The bus was yellow wasn''t it? It''s probably a school bus then. The kid probably got on. Yes, that red stain is just paint. Kids love paint don''t they?


    An urge to check the stain rose in me, but I pushed it down. I had no time.


    I turned around and ran.

 Chapter 3

    My feet pounded on the sidewalk, in harmony with the pounding of my heart. I ran up the street, whether towards my goal or away from my guilt, I couldn''t tell.


    That kid was run over wasn''t he?


    My feet pounded the sidewalk in a, thump-thump-thump-thump.


    It was my fault. I should''ve helped him.


    thu-thump-thu-thump-thu-thump, went my heart.


    I warned him not to jump. It''s not my fault.


    I missed a step and stumbled. I fell for the second time in an hour, getting a close up look at the pavement, but I hardly felt it.


    I hate myself.


    Standing up, I smoothed out my shirt and finger combed my hair. If my hands trembled a little, it was because they were still aching from all that waving around I did earlier.


    I took a deep breath and checked the time. It was 11:25.


    I should''ve at least checked the red stain on the street. To confirm if it was blood or something else. If the boy was run over, there should''ve been a body or something. It doesn''t make sense. Maybe the boy really did just board the school bus. It''s too late to check now though.


    I sighed. What''s done is done. I should notify someone about the possible accident.


    I was about to call the police or an ambulance, but then I remembered that my phone was acting up.


    Looking around, I realized that I had gone quite the distance in my headlong charge up the street. The buildings here had a subtly different style compared to where I had met the boy before, painted in monochromatic colors. I couldn''t be sure because at some point the sky had become overcast. Even at the best of times, I barely paid attention to where I was going, not to mention the past few minutes. The sight of those abandoned balloons was seared in my eyes no matter how far or fast I ran.


    Why did I run?


    I sighed. Now was not the time for this. This section of the street had was almost flat, and in the distance I saw a crowd of 20-30 people gathered on the sidewalk. A stiff breeze made me shiver and stumble back a few steps.


    There are people here after all. I should get them to check on the child.


    As I got closer, I noticed one of the street lanes was blocked off, with four huge vehicles idling beyond the barricade. I almost flinched when I saw their yellow color, then realized they were construction vehicles instead of school buses.


    I paid them no mind and briskly walked up to the closest person. "Afternoon sir, can you please help me?"


    I almost expected them to ignore me like everyone in this godforsaken street had, but fortunately the man turned around and smiled. "Hello there, you look like shit. What happened man?"


    "I know," I smiled in relief. I injected a hint of urgency in my voice and said, "Can you please come with me? I thought I saw a child got run over earlier. I can''t find him anywhere. My phone''s acting up too, so I haven''t called the emergency services."


    The man gasped in shock. "Damn! That''s terrible. Are you sure?"


    I hesitated. "I didn''t see it happen, but one moment the child was there, then a bus sped past, and the child was gone. There was a puddle of red on the street. I think it was blood. Please, could you just search for him? Or at least do you have a phone I can borrow?"Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    The man smiled awkwardly. "Ah, sorry man, I''m a bit busy right now. See that?" The man pointed at the building the crowd had gathered around. "It''s our home. It''s about to be unfairly demolished! I need to stay here. Why, these damned bastards had-"


    I interrupted the man, "But the child..."


    "Yes, I''m sorry to hear that. But if like you said, the kid''s gotten run over by a bus, then it''s hopeless. What do you expect us to do?"


    I stared at him blankly. "Could you lend me your phone at least? I need to call the emergency services."


    "Ah sorry again, this is awkward. How should I say this? I don''t have my phone with me. How about you ask someone else? I need to go prevent those bastards from tearing my house down. Sorry, excuse me." Without another word, the man walked deeper into the crowd.


    A scoff of disbelief escaped my lips. I had no time to waste though, so I approached another person at the edge of the crowd and went over it all again.


    But it was useless. One and all, they responded in the same way. That they were sorry it happened, and no, they were really busy and couldn''t check. Am I sure I saw it right? Sorry, but they can''t lend me their phones and had to go.


    How could they do this? How could they hear about a child''s possible death and just move on with their lives? What''s so important that they can''t spare the time?


    With a jolt, I checked the time. It was 11:30. I bit my lips in frustration.


    Can¡¯t they even bother to lend me a phone? No one has it with them? Bullshit! Who doesn''t keep their phone around in this day and age? They just don''t want to get entangled in something they considered bothersome.


    I paused.


    Do I really want to borrow the phone to call emergency services? Was it really just for that? Not to call a taxi? Like they said, the child is dead. Even if he wasn''t, he''ll be dead by now. I ran and left him.


    A bitter smile creased my lips. Ah, I''m the worst. I was so disgusted with the crowd. For their indifference and callousness. Am I any different? Aren''t I worse?


    Enough, it''s too late for the child. If the child was really run over, then it was too late the moment I decided to ignore him. Nothing I can do for him now. If I really want to call the emergency services, doing it in half an hour will make no difference at this point. I should reach the Tower first. I can use the office''s phone then.


    I pushed my way through the crowd. I''ve wasted too much time here. At least it allowed me to recover and catch my breath a bit.


    Once I got past the crowd, the rest of the street was revealed to me. I would need to go downhill from here. There''s still a lot of ground to cover until the end of the street, but I could already see it now. The street ended at an crossroad branching left and right. Lining the end of the street was a series of two-story houses complete with lawns bordering the sidewalk. From my position at the crest of the street, I was able to look past these houses to the river flowing behind them. And there, on the other side of the river and just barely visible, the Stratos Tower stood tall and proud.


    My heart lifted at the sight of my destination.


    The bus driver didn''t lie after all. I just need to reach the end of the street and cross the river. I still have half an hour. I can do this.


    For a moment I considered asking the crowd behind me for directions on how to cross the river, but they were too busy arguing with the foreman of the construction crew.


    I hadn''t tried to talk to him earlier had I? Maybe he''ll agree to lend me his phone or look for the child? No, it''s useless to rely on others.


    I left them to their argument and leaned forward, trying to make out details of the river. At a closer look, I saw a bridge I could cross if I took the right path at the end of the street.


    Just then, I heard raised voices behind me.


    "You can''t do this!"


    "Compensate us properly!"


    "You''re breaking the law!"


    "Shut up! You''re obstructing our operations. I don''t care what ya''ll think, just stay behind the line. I won''t care if you get hurt otherwise!"


    I was somewhat amused at the crowd''s distress. I thought they were protesting the demolition of their homes, but it looked like they just wanted more money. A greedy lot who''d rather go after money than help a child.


    I grimaced as my heart twinge. I rubbed my chest and turned around to watch the demolition.


    I''ll just watch for a bit. I''m probably still out of breath. I really should just jog from here on out. It''ll be faster in the long run.


    The crowd was gathering and shouting at a man wearing a safety vest and hard helmet. His face was red from all the shouting. "I''ve had enough! We have work to do! Do it!"


    One of the construction vehicles moved, swinging a wrecking ball into the apartment building. It crumbled in an instant.


    A piercing scream rang out from the building.


    Was there someone still in there?


    I looked around at the crowd, but they showed no signs of hearing it, still shouting at the foreman.


    I should check that out.


    I hesitated and glanced down at the time¡ªit was 11:34.


    It must''ve been the wind.


    I turned around and jogged down the street, eyes on the Stratos Tower in the distance.