Roger reached out and slapped down on the alarm clock. 5:30 am. Just 4 hours of sleep and another day was about to begin. He lay back for a minute and tried to focus, tried to persuade his tired body, and mind, to get up. His eyes closed.

This job will be the death of me.

The alarm sounded again. Thank goodness for snooze control. This time he reacted more positively, threw back the bedsheets and ambled to the bathroom. A glance in the mirror showed that he looked exactly as he felt. Exhausted. He wondered if he had made the right decision when he had taken this high-flying job, but there was money to be made in property development and he was good at it.

A few minutes later, washed, shaved and suited, he took another look in the mirror. A different reflection this time. Confident, capable.

Today’s deal is in the bag.

The intercom buzzed. “Good morning, sir, it’s Norman in reception. There is a taxi waiting for you.”

“I’ll be right down.” He grabbed his briefcase and overcoat and went down into the lobby. Norman held the door open for him.

“Thanks, and again, please don’t call me sir. I’ve not had the call to the palace yet. My name is Roger.”

“Right you are sir, er Roger. You have a good day now.” Roger smiled, went outside and got into the waiting cab.

Not a word was spoken on the journey, until on entering the airport drop off zone, the driver said, “You wouldn’t get me up in one of those things.”

Roger thought what a strange thing to say to someone who is just about to take a flight to Glasgow. He looked up and was about to reply, when he caught sight of the driver’s eyes, staring back at him in the rear-view mirror. They were different colours, heterochromia just like his brother had.

“Safest way to travel.” Roger said. He looked at his watch. “Anyway, I’d better dash. It’s 7 o’clock and the company jet takes off in 30 minutes.”

Roger sat in the private lounge, waiting for his call to board. He thought back to the cab driver, and to his “brothers” eyes gazing back at him. He hadn’t spoken to Reece for a few months now. It was Roger’s fault. He had been so busy, he had forgotten his father’s birthday, and Reece had had a bit of a go at him. Roger regretted his words to Reece, saying that he was always the family favourite, and no-one gave a damn about Roger. This wasn’t true. Their parents had always treated the brothers equally, and Reece being slightly older, had always looked out for him.

I’ll get in touch as soon as I get home.

Roger’s flight was announced, and he made his way to the aircraft. A stewardess was waiting to show him to his seat and as he approached her, he did a double take. She had different colour eyes, just like the cab driver. His brother once told him that only 1 in 20,000 had this condition, and that of course, made him special. What were the chances of meeting two people in the same day, with the same condition? A voice called out to him.

“Hello Roger, old chap. You ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” It was Malcolm, his arch nemesis. One position below him in the company, and always angling to be two above.

“Oh, hi Malcolm. Didn’t know you were involved in this project?”

“Head office contacted me last night. Thought you would need all the help you could get, and from the look of you, they were right.”

“I’m fine. It’s just that… Oh forget it, it’s just a coincidence.”

“Well I’m here for you Roger. If you find yourself getting into deep water during negotiations, I’ll help pull you out.”

More like hold me under until I’ve drowned. Better go through the proposals again, just to make sure I can “swim” without Malcolm’s help.

Just then, Roger’s mobile buzzed. He looked at the message in surprise. It was from Reece, his brother. Months with no contact and now a text from him. It read.

“Sorry to bother you Roger, but there has been a terrible accident. I need you to come home immediately. I cannot say anymore. Please try and make it home.”

There is no inference in a text. It’s just words without emphasis. But somehow it gave him a feeling of desperation, and utmost importance. He rang the number back.

“The mobile you have called may be switched off. Please try later.” How could that be. He’d just had a message from it. He tried his dad’s number. No reply.

What the hell do I do now?

He rang head office. “Can I speak to Sir Bernard please? It’s Roger Davis. I am due at a meeting in Glasgow with him later this morning.”

“Of course, Mr Davis, I’ll connect you.” The booming voice of the CEO came through. “Roger. Thought you would be airborne by now. Nothing wrong, I hope. Very important deal today, worth millions to the company.”

“Yes sir, I know. The thing is I have just had an upsetting message from home. Something serious has happened and I wondered, is there any chance you and Malcolm could broker the deal?”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”

“I cannot get through to them, so I have no more details at present.”

“Hmm. Well as I say this deal is vital. I’m sure your family crisis can wait until you get back tonight. I expect to see you at the meeting later. If not, well let’s just say that new promotion coming up might have to go to Malcolm. He’s a reliable sort. Anyway, got to go.”

There was an abrupt click as the phone was slammed down. The death knell on his career perhaps. He had to think fast. Should he keep his job, the lifestyle he’d come to enjoy? Or rush home to see what the fuss was about, even if it meant working for Malcolm, perhaps losing his job altogether. He tried the phone again. Still switched off. Almost instantly, his phone pinged. Another message from the same number.

“Roger, please. There’s not much time.”

How is this possible? The number was unavailable. The decision is made for me.

He begrudgingly wished Malcolm the best of luck with the deal and rushed off the plane, much to the surprise of the stewardess.

Roger pulled up outside his parent’s house and was met at the front door by their neighbour Mrs Wilkins. She was in tears. “Oh Roger, I’m so sorry about your brother. Such a terrible accident. He is at the hospital with your parents.”

She must have it wrong. Overwrought perhaps. My brother had texted me earlier, twice.

Roger didn’t question her and made his way to the hospital.

He found his parents sitting by Reece’s bedside, his mum weeping into her handkerchief. There was an array of wires and tubes coming out of Reece’s body. His father looked up as he approached.

“Roger, what are you doing here?”

“I got a text from Reece, saying there had been an accident. He didn’t say it was him though. God, he looks in a bad way.”

“A text? That’s impossible. A lorry driver had a heart attack and ploughed straight into his car. Happened this morning at 6 o’clock. Reece hasn’t regained consciousness since.”

“But I had 2 messages from him, telling me to come home. Look it’s his mobile number.”

“Well they weren’t from Reece I assure you. His phone was smashed to pieces in the crash.”

Roger shivered uneasily. He walked over to his brother and took his hand.

“Don’t know if you can hear me bro, but I am here.”

He looked down at him and could swear Reece’s mouth curled slightly into what might have passed for a smile. Then the alarms went off, doctors rushed into the room and called for the crash team. It was no use. After several minutes, the doctor signalled to stop and all that was left was the monotonous tone of the flatline. Reece was gone.

Later, Roger and his parents were sitting in a private room waiting for the hospital staff to guide them through the next steps. The TV was on in the corner. No-one was paying much attention until a newsflash appeared.

“A private jet has crashed on its return flight from Glasgow. There were 4 people on board but unfortunately there were no survivors”.

Roger stared up at the screen, straight into the faces of his rival Malcolm, and the stewardess. It was the company jet that had crashed. The one Roger should have been on. Roger’s mobile buzzed. He felt an icy chill as he stared at the screen. A message from Reece.

“Glad you made it brother”.

Back to Short Story Competition webpage