Doom to the Damned

Chapter 1

All I could hear were whispering voices on the other side of the locked door that was holding me captive. This was absolutely no way to be spending my Friday happy hour, with my limbs tied and body bound to a highly uncomfortable wooden chair. If it wasn’t for the occasional draft coming from underneath the door, I would’ve thought I was in a basement (albeit improbable, given this was Florida and I had yet to come across a basement anywhere in the place I affectionately referred to as “Satan’s Bed” due to the never-ending heat wave).

I should’ve been more intimidated than I was, but that could be attributed to my youth and level of anger. Most people don’t enjoy being held at gunpoint, especially when leaving work on a Friday afternoon with happy hour plans, Orlando Magic tickets, and lots of clubs waiting on you to spend top dollar for their shit-vodka pours. How much did I care about having a pistol pointed at me in the parking garage? I believe I said something like “Point that at someone else and, yeah, go fuck yourself while you’re at it.”

My comment must not have gone over well, because I don’t remember much until coming to a bit later, with the back of my head throbbing. I need to learn how to take a complete inventory of all gang members in future confrontations, I thought. I planned on there being a lot of future confrontations, since I was an accountant and everybody knows how danger lies around every corner for Certified Public Accountants! “All joking aside,” I heard myself saying out loud, “who the hell were those assholes, and what the hell do they want from me?”

After a few moments, my head began to feel a bit clearer, and I could interpret some of the chatter outside the door. All the voices were unfamiliar, but they all seemed argumentative to the point of anger.

“What the hell is all of the commotion out there?” I yelled out from the confines of my musty-smelling chamber. “I have a terrible fuckin’ headache in here, and I’m feeling quite neglected! What kind of hospitality is this anyway?”

I waited. Nothing. Only the same banter back and forth between at least three men.

“At least bring me a drink and some cigarettes! It’s Friday afternoon, for fuck’s sake, and I have to work in the morning and this is wearing into my social life!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. This must have done the trick, because the doorknob began to turn and the door was pushed open with amazing force, revealing the silhouettes of two broadly built men, one wearing a Fedora and a grin, and the other appeared to not have any hair on his head. One of them flipped on the light, momentarily blinding the shit out of me.

“Goddammit, man! A little warning would’ve been great. Do you know how—”

“That’ll be enough out of you, Jimmy,” the bald one said sharply. “What a mouth this kid’s got, huh?” he said to his partner, while nodding his head in my direction.

“My name is James. Only my friends call me Jimmy.”

The bald one stared at me with an intensity I have never seen before in human eyes.

“I personally don’t give a fuck what you want to be called. I’ll call you whatever the hell I want to call you. It would be in your best interest to shut your mouth for the next few minutes and maybe we can get something done and have you on your way. Simply nod if you agree. I do not want to hear another fucking word! Got it?”

I nodded. The thug wearing the Fedora had a slight grin on his face, but there appeared to be no emotion behind it. This could’ve been the slug that got me from behind in the parking garage, because I would’ve remembered either that stupid-looking Fedora or the lifelessness in his eyes. The whole scene in the garage happened too fast for me to remember for sure, but from the looks of this guy, there was no way he was capable of understanding the workings of a gun.

The bald vagrant continued to speak, “You’d think the first words out of your mouth would be ‘Who are you?’ or ‘What do you want?’ but you’re apparently a bit unusual. Maybe you’re just plain stupid. I guess having a master’s degree doesn’t give someone common sense or street smarts. I’m glad I didn’t waste my time on any of that shit, but enough about that. Let’s talk about why you’re here.

“We are… well, business partners with one of your clients. They hired us to present you with a little proposition. A deal that’ll make you a few extra dollars if you decide to cooperate. Are you still with me?”

“Yes. I’m with you, but can you have your goon-friend stare at the wall instead of at me?”

“Oh, I apologize, Jimmy. Is he intimidating you?”

“I wouldn’t say he’s intimidating me as much as he’s creeping me out. And please, can you call me James?”

The bald one took a few steps closer to me and leaned over to ensure I saw the red veins in his eyes. It was obvious he was carefully thinking about each word he was about to say. “Donny’s creeping you out and that’s making you uncomfortable? He’s my brother and a damn fine human being, and you will refrain from mentioning him in any derogatory manner from here on out. Are we clear, you little fuckin’ faggot-ass accountant?”

I wanted to smack the shit out of that hairless head of his, but being my arms were bound tightly behind my back, all I could do was reply. “Very clear. I won’t say another about him. Now, let’s get back to the money conversation.”