A Way Down
By
A. L. Svartz
Copyright Addison Svartz, 2014
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents in this publication are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. The moral rights of the author have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1 THE LIFE OF TWO
CHAPTER 2 THE SHOOTING
CHAPTER 3 THE HEART ATTACK
CHAPTER 4 THE PLANNED TRIP
CHAPTER 5 CAUGHT IN THE STORM
CHAPTER 6 A DIFFERENT WORLD
CHAPTER 7 THE FAILED ESCAPE
CHAPTER 8 THE VILLAGE RULER
CHAPTER 9 THE NEWS UNFOLDS
Chapter One
The Life of Two
"Carole, would you tell Johnson to come into my office?" A man at a very fine desk said into his black, corded phone.
"Yes Mr. Malmsteen," Carole said on the phone. Her seductive voice assured Mr. Malmsteen that he'll he right in.
He placed the phone back on the receiver. Fixing up his messing desk, he picked up a pile of papers and shoved them into one of the drawers. He moved his desk lamp towards the right corner of his desk. Lastly, he straightened his plated name tag which had "Mr. Malmsteen CEO" written on it.
A knock on the door came.
"You may enter," Mr. Malmsteen said, cupping his hands together on top of the desk. The glossy black door from across the room opened. A sort of chubby man entered Mr. Malmsteen's office. "Come, sit down up here."
The chubby man waddled his way over to Mr. Malmsteen's desk. Stepping on the wooden floor, he dared not to look up at his boss. The man's white work shirt had ketchup stains near the collar, and sweat stains under the arms. A plain red tie fell from his neck. He was bald, with straight brown hair on the side of his head. A large pair of glasses sat on his pig-like nose. His mustache covered his mouth.
Johnson went and sat down at one of the two chairs in front of Mr. Malmsteen's desk. "You wanted to see me sir?" Johnston said in a whiny voice. He pushed his glasses up to his face.
"Yes I did," Mr Malmsteen said. He swiveled his chair to the left of his desk, staring at his computer screen. He typed a few letters into the computer while making a few clicks. "Ah, here we go. Now Johnson, I'm looking at your sales chart for the month."
Johnson cut him right off. "Look, this month is very slow. It's been like this for a while. I know there not as high as you would like them to be."
"They're shit!" Mr Malmsteen yelled. He snapped his head at Johnson. "This is your worst month to date. You're doing worse than Stevens, and he just started last week!" Mr. Malmsteen stood up from his chair. "Get the hell out of my building you sack of shit. You're fired. I want your desk cleared in the next ten minutes or I'll have security throw you out. Now go!" He pointed firmly at the door. Knowing in his head that Johnson had a wife and kid that he needed to support did not concern him.
Johnson slowly rose from his seat, his head slouched down. He angrily walked over towards the door. As he was halfway out the door, he said one last thing to his now former boss. "You know, one day you're going to get what you deserve. There's something called giving people a chance. I've been a loyal worker for you for years. The day you learn that you're a cruel person will be the day you die." Johnson slammed the door shut.
Mr. Malmsteen walked around his desk and over to a mirror that hung on the wall. He started fixing his gelled over black hair. "And that day is very far away." After fixing his hair, he pulled down on the skin below his eyes, getting a better look at them. "All this stress is doing a number on me, isn't it." The phone on his desk suddenly rang. He then straightened his suit and cleared his throat. He causally walked over to his desk and picked up the phone.
"Mr. Malmsteen," Carole said. "Mr. Eisen is heading up to your office, he should be there soon."
"Ah good," Mr. Malmsteen said into the phone. He then hung up the phone. As he walked over to his desk, he reached down and pulled out two wine glasses and a bottle of wine. Popping the cork off he started to fill the first wine glass.
A few knocks came on the door before someone came into the room. He had on a very expensive suit. As he walked over to Mr. Malmsteen's desk, his blonde hair bounced. The hard steps he took echoed in the room.
"Hey, what's with the wine?" Mr. Eisen said. He approached Mr. Malmsteen's desk, pushing up his glasses as they were about to slide off his nose.
"To celebrate!" Mr. Malmsteen said as he filled the second glass of the red wine. He slid the glass over to the other side of his desk. "Cheers!" He raised his glass and took a sip.
Mr. Eisen picked up his glass. "To celebrate what?" He also took a sip.
"I finally fired that pig Johnson," Mr. Malmsteen said, taking another sip of the wine.
"Took you long enough," Mr. Eisen said.
He turned around and looked out the large glass window that was behind him. "Look at them," Mr. Malmsteen said. All the filthy people that live in this world. It's sad that they will never truly enjoy life without the wealth you and I have."
Mr. Eisen walked up next to Mr. Malmsteen. They both watched as New York was busy at work. Lights blinking everywhere. Cars filled the streets. "In a sense, you're right." Mr. Eisen took another sip of his wine. "So, what are we gonna do about Johnson's position? What about his clients?" He glanced at his friend before facing back forward.
"Eh, I'll just pile it on someone else," Mr. Malmsteen said. "More fun for them, right." He chuckled a little.
"Hey listen," Mr. Eisen said, turning to his business partner. "The wife wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow night. I'm not sure what we're having. You don't have to come if you don't want to."
"Nah, I'll be there," Mr. Malmsteen said, finishing his glass of wine. "Hey, as long as it's free, I'll be there."
"Great, great." Mr Eisen looked at his wrist watch, noticing the time. "Woah, hey look, it's running late. I gotta go, my driver's probably waiting in the garage. Thanks for the wine. I'll catch ya tomorrow." Mr. Eisen placed his empty wine glass on the desk and headed out the door.
Mr. Malmsteen looked down as his watch as well, noticing it was getting rather late. "Well, enough work for today I do say so myself." He turned and placed his glass next to the other one. Reaching under his desk, he pulled out his black briefcase and headed out the door. He locked it behind him.
"Good night Mr. Malmsteen," Carole said as he walked past her desk. She flipped her red hair as he passed by. He didn't say anything. In the distance he heard her say, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
Walking past the rows and rows of desks, he made his way around a few corners until coming up upon the elevator. He pressed the red button with the down arrow on it and waited patiently. While waiting, he looked out the window, catching all the sites that it captured.
Ding. Mr. Malmsteen turned and entered the small elevator.
"What floor Mr. Malmsteen?" The man in the elevator said. He wore a green vest over a white shirt. A green cap was also displayed on his head.
"Ground floor," he
responded. The elevator man leaned forward, pressing the button for the ground floor. The two sliver doors closed. Another ding followed as the elevator started to move. Both men remained silent throughout the whole elevator ride.
As the elevator reached the ground floor, another ding sounded off and the doors slid open.
"See you bright and early tomorrow morning Mr. Malmsteen," the elevator man said as Mr. Malmsteen exited.
Making his way through the front entrance, something caught his eye. Reflecting off the glossy white tile floor, he saw something that made him look up. As he was walking by he say Johnson being carried out the front door by a large security man. He glanced over for a second, catching the frightened look on Johnson's face.
"Hey, heeyy!" Johnson yelled. He looked up and saw that Mr. Malmsteen was present. "You did this Malmsteen! You ruined my life now you asshole! You're gonna get it! You here me! I'll be back!"
He didn't say anything. He just continued to walk along, heading towards the garage.
"Good night sir," the woman at the front desk said. Again, Mr. Malmsteen didn't respond. He looked back down, walking past her desk as if she didn't say anything at all.
He walked down into the next hallway. Picking up a little bit so he wouldn't be distracted by anybody else, he finally reached the door that led into the garage.
As he opened the door, a rush of cold air struck him. Right in front of the door was his car with the driver leaning on it.
"Ready sir?" The driver asked.
Mr. Malmsteen walked around to the other side of the car, opening up the back door and climbing in.
The driver ran over to his side. "May I take your bag sir?" He asked, trying to hide the English accent that he had.
Mr. Malmsteen tossed it at him. "Throw it in the trunk," he instructed. The driver nodded. He closed Mr. Malmsteen's door and went to the back to put away his briefcase. He then ran around to the driver's side and hopped in.
He turned the key and started up the car. Turning back to face Mr. Malmsteen, he said, "anywhere special you wish to go tonight sir?"
Mr. Malmsteen grabbed the headrest of the passenger's side, pulling himself forward. "Just take me home," he said in a not so pleasant tone. He released his grip and fell back towards his seat.
"Alrighty sir," the driver said as he started navigating his way out of the garage. He drove a little fast when he came up to the speed bumps, trying to hurry so he could beat the traffic.
"Is the paper up there?" Mr. Malmsteen asked. The driver looked down at the passenger's seat, shuffled though all the paper that were on it.
"Ah, here you go sir," the driver said as he reached back, handing Mr. Malmsteen the paper.
He shuffled the paper around until he held it in a comfortable position. Skipping over the big headlines, he searched around to see how his company's stock did.
"Three percent!" He shouted. "We were down three percent today! Must've been from that screw up Johnson. This is unbelievable!" He tossed the paper down next to him. Rubbing his head, he took in a few deep breathes. He then picked the paper back up. After looking to see how his rivals did, he went on to read the other stories. Some weird news made the headlines like "Small New England Town Experiences Strange Storms" and "Satellites Pick Up Unusual Screeching Sounds From Deep Space". He didn't bother to read those stories.
As Mr. Malmsteen was engaged in some of the other stories in the paper, the car came to as screeching halt. Mr. Malmsteen jerked forward a little. The driver turned back. Mr. Malmsteen angrily looked up from his paper.
"We're here sir," the driver said. "Shall I get your bag?" His passenger remained silent.
Mr. Malmsteen slammed the paper onto the seat next to him and angrily exited the car. He walked around back and opened the trunk himself, retrieving his suitcase. Walking towards his apartment building, the driver lowered the passengers window.
"Will that be all sir?" He shouted from the window. No response was given to him.
A tall dark man stood outside the apartment building doors. He wore a very clean and casual looking tuxedo. As he recognized that it was Mr. Malmsteen, he gladly moved out of the way a little, allowing him to enter the building.
"Have a good night sir," the man outside the building said in a very deep voice. He tipped his small hat that he had on.
As he entered the building, Mr. Malmsteen pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. He searched around the key ring until he found the correct key. Walking over to the wall of mailboxes, he looked for his apartment number, 9812, and pressed the key inside the hole. Turning it opened the rather small mailbox. He pulled out a stack of envelopes of all different sizes. Closing the mailbox, he retrieved his key and made his way over to the elevator.
It seemed as though somebody else was also waiting for the elevator. A familiar looking woman to Mr. Malmsteen, it was Ms. Hagel. She was a chubby old woman who had a bush of white hair on her head followed by a very tiny purple hat that she knitted herself. Carrying around her monster of a purse, she kept her tiny kitten in it.
Mr. Malmsteen uneasily stood next to her as they both waited for the elevator to arrive. She turned her head to smile at Mr. Malmsteen. He turned, giving her a blank stare. They both turned their heads back as the ding of the elevator told them that it had arrived.
As Mr. Malmsteen tried to get on first, Ms. Hagel blocked his attempt by swinging around her cane, taking her valuable time getting in. Mr. Malmsteen was directly behind her, making sure she wouldn't leave in the elevator without him in it. Ms. Hagel stood in front of the elevator buttons, pressing the floor in which she needed to go to. The elevator dinged and the doors closed.
"You know Richard," Ms. Hagel started. "While I've got you here for a minute, I'd wish to tell you something. For the past few weekends I've heard a tremendous amount of noise that seems to be coming from your apartment. I didn't report the issue to the front desk, but if it continues, I must."
Mr. Malmsteen turned to here. "First off, call me Mr. Malmsteen, not Richard," he said. "That's what it says on my desk, and that's what I go by. Secondly, deal with the noise. You won't be hearing it for much longer at the age you're at."
Ms. Hagel gasped at what Mr. Malmsteen had just said. She put one hand over her mouth as her eyes popped open. As she did, her white kitten popped his head out of her purse, letting out a little meow.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened up. Mr. Malmsteen was the first to leave the elevator. He headed down the open hallway. Expensive paintings and very high end carpet was seen throughout the hallway. His room was about midway down the hall. With the key ring still in his hand, he found the key to his apartment and opened the door. Before he went inside, Ms. Hagel went up to her apartment, which was right next to Mr. Malmsteen's.
"I'll have you know after that remark you just said, I will be reporting you," she snubbed to him. She was wagging her finger at him as if he were a dog.
Not feeling any regret or worry about what she said, Mr. Malmsteen entered his apartment, slamming the door shut. He flipped on the light switch, revealing his extraordinary layout of furniture.
"Dammit!" Mr. Malmsteen yelled. He tossed his suitcase across the room, it landing right in from of the entrance to his balcony. Stomping over to his kitchen, he opened up his refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of very expensive wine. He grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets, filling it. Leaving the wine out on the counter, he walked over to his balcony. He kicked his suitcase out of the way as he opened the door, allowing him to go outside.
He walked over to the end of his balcony, leaning forward on the railing. Flurries were present around the sky. He took a sip of the wine, which calmed him down. Gazing up at the stars, he only wished that he could be like them. To leave a permanent mark. So that everyone will look up to him. And to be watching over everyone at the same time.