Accident Man
By
Shane Griffin
Smash Words Edition Published by Poupichou Press
First Published in Print in Potato Monkey 2002
Copyright Shane Griffin 2001
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Table of Contents
Accident Man
About the Author
Other Works by this Author
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Everything about him was average. He wore a plain dark suit in the current style. His shoes were nothing special, not too shiny not too dull, just nicely used. His hair was brown, cut in no particular fashion, but neat nonetheless. He was average height, average build, he walked with just enough certainty so it seemed he was headed somewhere, but nowhere overly important. Even his name was mundane, though he rarely gave it. He was an expert at blending into the crowd, without actually looking like he was trying to. It was a fine art, but one that he had been designed to do.
The only thing even slightly exceptional about him was the magnetic strip implanted into his hand that ran inconspicuously along one of the creases in his palm. Only on careful inspection could one even see it. In his experience, however, most people were not that observant.
As he walked along the busy city street he glanced casually at the dull grey clouds. It was raining, that misty drizzling type of rain that never really felt or sounded like rain yet managed to soak through every layer of clothing. He moved within the bundles of people, from dripping shop front to dripping shop front, all the way along the street. He took particular care not to brush against anyone as he walked and even greater care to ensure that it didn't look like that was what he was doing.
As he continued with the flow of people he thumbed the buttons on what looked, for all intents and purposes, like a mobile phone. It was in fact a compact computer that connected directly to him. He up-linked to secure the finer details of his next assignments. Text scrolled rapidly down the tiny iridescent screen as he read. He had to remember to breathe slowly as he did so, it was always a rush to absorb new information and a tell-tale sign that he did not want to give away.
He took a casual glance at his nondescript watch as he approached an intersection where the people were impatiently waiting for the angry red man to disappear and let them pass. He creased his brow slightly when he saw the time, he didn't have time to waste waiting for the lights to change. He walked as directly as he dared to the palm button for the pedestrian lights and gently touched his special hand against it. Instantly the little green man welcomed him forward. He waited briefly for a car to come to skidding to a halt, then moved across the street.
He was just a few blocks away from his first assignment when a man walked out abruptly from a small café, he was carrying a piping hot cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup. They saw each other at the last moment and avoided a major collision, but they did not avoid touching. He mumbled a quick apology to the other fellow without making eye contact and then hurried on his way. After a short distance he stopped and pretended to be looking at something in a shop window. In reality he was watching the fellow as directly as he dared. Sure enough the fellow had walked barely five metres along the street when he tripped on a crack in the footpath and spilt the boiling coffee all over himself. Under his breath he cursed lady luck as vehemently as the fellow was now cursing his coffee.
Now he really was running late and it forced him into a brisk walk, which made it that much harder and more frustrating to avoid touching anyone along the way. Inevitably people brushed against him now and again. Like the lady sifting through her handbag who moments later ran into someone and dropped the entire contents onto the footpath. Then there was the man who shoved past him to hail a cab only to leave his briefcase behind when he later got out, or the overweight gentleman who brushed against him then split his pants bending over to pick up a coin.
He winced at every touch, but pushed regardless, never acknowledging the events left in his wake. Timing was everything in his line of work and it was always running against him.
To his unexpressed relief he finally reached his destination, a small second floor accounting firm. He scaled the stairs and walked through the front door and into the secretary's front desk area. He approached her directly and the she greeted him with a smile.
"Hello," he said cheerfully, "I have an appointment to see Mr Peters."
"Ahh, Mr Smith?" she enquired.
"Yes, could I see him directly as I have another important…meeting scheduled very soon."
"Why of course, he said to show you right in anyway," she said as she stood and rounded her desk placing a gentle hand on his elbow to guide him in the right direction, "My, my you are soaked through you really should carry an umbrella."
"Yes, so silly of me I know," he replied. Her hand had only touched him momentarily, but it was enough. He smiled inwardly, the hardest part of the job was already done.
The secretary ushered him down a short corridor to Mr Peters private office, complete with gold lettering on the frosted glass of the door. She gave a quick tap on the glass then opened the door anyway and announced Mr Smith. The office was slightly cramped and covered in piles of papers everywhere. Yet, Mr Peters sat proudly in his well worn high backed leather upholstered chair, a modest smile upon his face. Smith reached out a welcoming hand across the desk as the slightly overweight balding accountant stood to greet him. Mr Peters pulled his wire frame reading glasses from his face and put forward his own hand.
The shake was firm, solid and lasted barely a second. It was more than enough to get the job done. They both sat.
"So, Mr Smith, what business is it that you would like to discuss?"
"Well…," began Smith knowing full well that he would never have to finish the sentence. Suddenly there was a short painful yelp from the front office, followed promptly by mumbled cursing.
"I'm sorry, but if you will excuse me," said Mr Peters, somewhat embarrassed.
"No problem at all," replied Smith. Just as Mr Peters opened the door to exit his office his secretary appeared clutching at her profusely bleeding index finger.
"Mr Peters," she squealed, "I don't know how I managed it but, I stapled my finger and I can't get it out!"
Mr Peters mumbled another apology and then lead his secretary to a back room that contained a small kitchen and the first aid kit. Smith watched them leave then stood to go himself. He let himself out and was already on his way to his next assignment when it happened.
Mr Peters hit the light switch in the little kitchen hoping to get a better look at the offending staple. There was a brief flash of light followed rapidly by a loud pop as the globe blew. Mr Peters mumbled under his breath about bad things always happening in threes as he rummaged around in a cupboard for a new globe. A minute later he was standing tip toe on a chair pulling out the blown globe. As he reached up to put in the new globe his finger touched the socket, just briefly. It was enough.
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Smith tried not to think about the fate of Mr Peters. He had determined a long time ago that it was no use worrying about those types of details, all it did was make the job harder. Anyway, he already had his next assignment to worry about and this one certainly required exact timing.
Smith approached the intersection, where his next assignment stood, at a brisk walk to ensure he was right on time. His new assignment was a stuffy looking business man carrying an expensive briefcase in one hand and a large umbrella in the other. Smith walked directly up behind him and tapped him gently on the shoulder with his special hand.
"Excuse me sir, but do you have a light?" asked Smith politely. Exactly as Smith caught the man’s attention the pedestrian lights changed. The man hesitated for a single second perhaps two, a short delay, but it was all that was needed.
"N
o, I don't have light and I am already extremely late so if you will excuse me," replied the man tersely. The man hurried across the street safely to the other side, but did not stop there and instead turned a sharp right to try and cross the adjacent intersection in one go. The lights had already changed back to red on the second intersection, but the man was oblivious.
Smith turned from the scene and held his breath while he waited for the inevitable screeching of tires from the oncoming bus followed by the bone crunching thud.
Nothing!
Smith opened his eyes wide in disbelief and abruptly turned to stare at the intersection. The bus hurtled past and the gust of wind that followed it slapped him in the face. He stood frozen as the wind momentarily swept everything around him into disarray. His eyes remained fixed in stone, however, on the intersection where his assignment stood waiting for the lights to change talking with a woman in a long flowing dress decorated in all the colours of the rainbow.
It was her!
She was tall, she was beautiful, the very type of woman to turn everyone's head, she was extraordinary.
"YOU!" he yelled, "Damn you!"
People began to look in his direction, something that had never happened before. Now he knew he had only one course of action. He stormed across the street, his special hand at the ready. She stood on the opposite side of the street facing him proudly, defiantly, yet with tears in her eyes.
He was only halfway across, when, to his horror she slowly turned her back on him. He didn't see the car, he didn't need to, he knew it was coming. There is just nothing you can do when Lady Luck turns her back on you.
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END
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About the Author
Shane Griffin lives in Australia near the Blue Mountains west of Sydney. He is a part time author and full time scientist. He has been writing science fiction and fantasy since age 19. He has published over 20 short stories in magazines and ezines such as Potato Monkey, Antipodean Science Fiction, Ripples, Eclecticism and Masque Noir.
With stories like Accident Man, Border Patrol and the Duel proving popular with readers Shane is now focusing on e-publishing under his own label - Poupichou Press.
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Other Titles by This Author
Science Fiction Short Stories
Antipodean Collection
Antipodean Collection2
Barkley's Body Swap and Pawn Shop
Blue Pelagic
Border Patrol
Cancer Stick Addiction
Cure Overdose
Deathday
Drifter
Generation Next The Real Thing
Long Odds
Manjac and the Nosebleed Section
Necrofairies
Shady Hazy and the Subliminal Criminal
Fantasy Short Stories
The Duel
The Mercenary
Visions of Magic - The Kidnap of Gabrielle Ulan
Novels
Apocalyptica - Rogue Memories