“Yeah! Yeah!” Roberto replied. The co-pilot sat on his chair with a cup of hot coffee. Just then, the plane shook a little. Hot coffee spilled on the co-pilot’s legs.
“Shit!” the co-pilot said in pain as he jumped up to wipe the liquid on his trousers. The plane shook again. This time, it was worse. Roberto looked at the panel. Nothing seemed to be wrong.
“Maybe it’s the clouds,” Roberto said. A minute later, the plane shook vigorously again. The plane control panel began to beep loudly.
“Shit! Engine one is failing,” the co-pilot said. Roberto Puccini was confused. His mission was not to crash the plane. It was to kill the co-pilot, put the plane on autopilot then jump off the plane with Vicky and Tom. Things seemed to be working differently.
“Someone tampered with the controls,”
“Engine one has completely failed,” The co-pilot said as he punched the control buttons excessively.
“May Day! May Day! Registration: two, alpha, tango, three, nine, nine requesting emergency landing,” the co-pilot said. Vicki walked into the control panel, scared.
“What’s going? This wasn’t the plan,” Vicki yelled in fear. Roberto was terrified but calm.
“Plan B,” Roberto said to Vicki as Vicki ran to the other end of the plane.
“Grab the controls. I’m going to check the engine,” Roberto lied to the co-pilot as the airplane shook violently.
“What! Don’t go anywhere! Engine two seems to be failing,” the co-pilot yelled in a state of terror. He was surprised Roberto left the cock-pit.
Tom and his guards were terrified. Vicki rushed from the back of the airplane. She was wearing a parachute and holding two parachutes.
“Everyone, be calm,” Roberto said. The guards were terrified. They fastened their seatbelt. Tom recognized Roberto Puccini from Roosevelt Hotel.
“Shit! Shoot him!” Tom ordered his guards. With smooth precision, Vicki pointed her gun at Tom’s head. Thanks to men underestimating women, she wasn’t searched by Tom’s guards.
“If you guys try anything stupid, I’ll shoot his brain out,” Vicki yelled as the plane began to shake repeatedly. It was more violent. Roberto Puccini looked through the window. There was fire on the second engine. Roberto wore his parachute. The guards were confused. Their guns were pointed at Vicki then at Roberto.
“You will not get away with this,” Tom replied in a distraught state.
“We already did!” Roberto said as he opened the emergency door to the airplane. Wind gushed into the plane. Bottles, magazines and glass cups were sucked out of the plane.
“The plane is dropping in altitude,” Roberto said to Vicki as Tom wore his parachute. The guards fell as the plane lost one of its wings. Due to air force training, Roberto and Vicki knew exactly how to react in that situation. They tossed Tom out of the window then jumped.
Tom was in a state of nostalgia. He was falling at a speed of what felt like sixty miles an hour. Plane parts fell above him. Tom saw Vicki gliding to a safer part of the atmosphere – where the plane wasn’t above her head. He tried to do the same, but couldn’t. Wind gushed violently on his face. He couldn’t see anything. The sky was dark and all he could see beneath him were little dots of lights here and there.
Just then, a part of the plane hit his head. He felt a nasty scar on his head. Blood gushed out, but he couldn’t feel the pain. His brain was too focused on the fall. He remembered he was wearing a parachute. However, he didn’t know the exact moment to release the Chute. He couldn’t see Roberto Puccini or Vicki near him. He hoped one of his bodyguards was coming to save him, but his instincts told him he was on his own.
At that moment, he decided to release the parachute. A great force pulled him up as the chute was let out. He stumbled a bit in the air then gained his balance. Just when he thought he was safely gliding down, another plane part came piercing through the parachute.
The plane part tore through the Parachute and pierced Tom’s arm. Tom lost control as he struggled to regain balance with one arm. Liquid rolled down his face then to his eyes. It felt thick. It was blood. Soon, he couldn’t see. All he had was one arm and a torn parachute. He was on free fall.
Roberto Puccini’s training was about to pay off. In the air force special forces, he had learned to fall off a moving plane in the thick of the night, to attack enemies. Roberto could see what was happening to Tom. He glanced at his right were Vicki was. She was safe. Tom pulled up his parachute.
“Shit, he did it too early,” Roberto thought. A couple of seconds later, he saw a plane part tear through Tom’s Parachute.
He aligned his body linearly as he went into free fall, diving towards Tom. Finally, he and Tom were on the same altitude. He brought out a knife from his pocket then cut the ropes. Tom struggled.
Tom felt someone grab him as he was falling. He knew it was Roberto Puccini even if he couldn’t see clearly. Tom wrestled Roberto endlessly. His instincts prevented him from trusting Roberto even if Roberto was clearly trying to help. They fell at a faster speed.
“Shit! I’m trying to help you!” Roberto yelled.
“I’ll just have to knock you out,” Roberto thought. Tom felt a loud thud behind his head. He passed out. Roberto quickly tied a rope to himself and Tom. “One, two…three,” he said then released his own parachute. Soon, they were gliding in the air, safely, away from the plane parts dropping from the sky. “It will all be over soon, little Olivetti,” Roberto whispered. Just then, the small rope attaching Tom to Roberto snapped. Tom fell to the ground.
“Shit!”
Seconds later, his feet touched the ground. He removed the Parachute from his shoulders then ran towards Tom’s body. They were in a large field. Vicki had also landed a couple of feet away. She jumped over obstacles as she ran towards Tom and Roberto. Her eyes had automatically adapted to the thick darkness.
“Quick! He needs to be on his back,” She said to Roberto as she adjusted Tom’s body.
“He didn’t fall too far from the ground, he should be okay,” Roberto said, panicking. Vicki examined Tom’s body.
“He’s bleeding from his head. His right arm is clearly broken. He also has a couple of broken ribs and a broken leg…there’s definitely a ton of internal bleeding going on,” She said. Roberto was upset.
“This wasn’t the plan. The boss wants Tom alive,” Roberto Puccini thought. She gazed at Tom’s lifeless body. Vicki placed a finger on his neck to feel Tom’s pulse.
“Shit! He has no pulse!”
In a vintage mansion in Sicily, a grey haired man dressed in polished grey Italian suit was standing in his office, facing a blank window. The room had limited colors; white, black and grey. He stared at the blank window as if watching a movie on television. His desk had a few papers on it with three different office phones. He could see everything; probabilities of an event’s occurrence, scenarios, time lapse, and world events. It was on the window, like an imaginary projection.
His bodyguard walked into the room. He was dressed in a black suit, white shirt and black tie.
“Sir,” his bodyguard said. The grey haired man turned to look at his bodyguard. His majestic countenance portrayed formidability and serene calmness. He was an embodiment of power.
“I know!” the man in the grey suit said.
“The chain of events will begin soon. The world will not remain the same,” he added. He turned back towards the blank window and sighed.
“It’s time to bring my grandson, Tom Olivetti, back home,”
43
SEPTEMBER 4, 1956
Freddy woke up in his motel room, his new modest way of life. Modesty was the least of his problems. Living in motel rooms allowed him to switch geographical locations at ease. It also prevented the FBI or other mob rivals from finding his new briefcase full of cash and special drug supplies. The sun struggled to filter through the thick curtains. Freddy got up from his bed, trying not to wake Clara up. She was lying beside him. He sighed and brushed his hands through h
is hair.
“What are you doing awake so early, handsome?” Clara said. She was naked on the bed. The sun rested gallantly on her skin.
Freddy smiled. “How was your sleep?”
“It was good. Thanks to you,” She said as she dragged herself closer to Freddy, whose back was facing hers. He could feel her breasts on his cold back.
“I bet,” Freddy chuckled. “Today is the day we meet this mysterious people,” Freddy whispered. He turned to plant a kiss on her lips then stood up and walked to the bathroom.
“Yes,” she yelled.
“We will be billionaires if everything goes according to plan,” Freddy replied. He closed the door then listened to see if she was coming close. He didn’t trust her. He had hidden the alpha pills where no one could find it. He stood on the toilet bowl and reached for the only light bulb that wasn’t on in the bathroom. He unscrewed the bulb then got down from the toilet bowl. He then unscrewed the silver part of the bulb and there it was – the pills. He looked at it for a long time, brought out a fresh envelope and poured half of the pills into the envelope. He left the remaining half in the bulb. He paused and took out a pill. He wondered why a simple pill was worth a lot. He closely examined it. An idea popped in his mind; “Why not try it? One pill won’t affect me. I’m not a descendant of this group of special people,”
He put the pill in his mouth, turned up the tap, and swallowed it with a gulp of tap water. He waited for five minutes to see if there would be any effect.
“Nothing! Super pill crap!” he thought to himself. He put the bulb back in the light hole and shoved the envelope of pills in his boxer’s pocket. He then splashed water on his face and brushed his wet hands through his hair.
“Hey Clara! You want to get into the shower with me?” Freddy joked as he opened the door. Before he could react, he felt a loud bang on his head. He fell to the floor like a heavy bag of cement. He could taste blood in his mouth. He tried to look up, but he felt another loud bang on his back. It felt like a baseball bat. His ears were ringing from the first hit.
“Fucking cunt!” a voice said. Freddy looked up and tried to focus on the figure in front of him. Soon, his blurred vision became clear. It was Don Patricelli’s younger brother, Johnny. He was standing there wearing a black leather jacket, a black tee shirt and black trousers. Two men were with him, wearing something similar and another man was holding Clara at gun point.
“Stop, please stop!” Freddy said after he noticed Clara. Johnny laughed.
“I don’t have any time to waste – my brother is soft – he wants to share the profits he gets from the…those pills with you. I will never let that happen. What’s his is mine. He may be too dumb to know this, but I know that those pills have to be within close proximity to you,” Johnny said, walking around Freddy and playing with his baseball bat.
“Look, I don’t have the pills. You can search the entire place,” Freddy said calmly. Johnny signaled to his men to search the place. They flipped the bed, turned over the sofa, broke through the draws and the closet, went through the bathroom cabinet, the toilet bowl – everywhere, but there was nothing.
“See I told you,” Freddy said calmly. All he had on was his boxers. No one suspected the pills were on him.
“Get him up and put him on a chair,” Johnny said to one of his men. They lifted Freddy up and put him on the chair by the bed. Freddy struggled. He shoved two of the men to the ground. Before he could make the next move, Johnny shot Freddy on the leg. Freddy growled in pain as the two men got up and dragged him unto a chair with his bleeding leg.
“Please don’t!” Clara yelled.
“Don’t fuck with me, foreigner,” Johnny said, pointing a gun at Freddy’s head.
“Look if you’re going to kill me, do it and you’ll die poor!” Freddy said bluntly. Johnny laughed again then scoffed.
“I’m leaving here with the pills. So you can take your time if you want, but I promise, you’ll eventually squeal,” Johnny said as a man burst into the room with Jimmy, Frederick’s cousin. He was bloody all over, with scars around his body like he had been tortured for days.
“No! No!” Freddy yelled, almost in tears. “That’s my fucking cousin! I will fucking kill you!” Frederick yelled in anger. “I will fucking kill you! Jimmy! Jimmy! Can you hear me! Don’t worry! I’ll handle these fucking assholes!” Frederick struggled relentlessly, a mixture of spit, sweat and blood, all over his face.
“No need for profanity,” Johnny said. “Jimmy had it coming anyways,” he added.
The man dropped Jimmy on the floor like a heavy grocery bag. Jimmy couldn’t move. His muscles were too weak. His bones were mostly broken or crushed. Frederick observed his cousin. He was practically a vegetable.
“Alright! I’ll give you the pills but first, you have to let Clara and Jimmy go,” Freddy said.
Johnny laughed again.
“Your life is on the line and you are worried about Clara?” Johnny asked with humor in his voice
“Look! Just let her go!” Freddy yelled.
“Hmm seems you’ve got a thing for American girls eh?” Johnny joked as he hit Freddy with his baseball bat six times. Blood spattered everywhere.
“Stop! Stop!” Clara yelled as she shrugged herself off the grip of the man holding her.
“This wasn’t your brother’s plan,” She yelled. Freddy was confused. He looked at her then looked at Johnny as the cold realization of his folly set in.
“She knew about this,”.
Johnny laughed again.
“What did you think? She works for us! She was just keeping an eye on you. Warming your bed and making you trust her. Unfortunately, I’m too impatient to wait for her to finish her job. It’s been weeks and she doesn’t have any tangible information,” Johnny blurted out. Clara moved closer to Freddy to examine his wounds.
“Get off me!” Freddy said weakly. Streams of blood flowed through his head. He felt deeply betrayed and foolish.
“Let me help you!” Clara replied, deeply concerned.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Johnny went against the plan. You and your cousin weren’t supposed to be hurt,” Clara said sincerely and apologetically.
“Get away from me,” Freddy said again.
“Aww! You European men are so vulnerable,” Johnny blurted out.
“Shut up Johnny!” Clara replied. She moved closer to Freddy again and whispered something in his ears.
“It’s in my underwear pocket. Let Jimmy go,” Freddy whispered weakly, in a state of hopelessness. Clara moved her hands slowly into Freddy’s underwear pocket.
“What are you doing? Giving him a hand job?” Johnny joked.
“Shut up!” Clara replied. “That’s not what you said when I was with you,” Johnny added as the others laughed.
“In your dreams!” Clara said angrily as she brought out the envelope of pills from Frederick’s pocket. Johnny snatched the envelope from her and examined the contents.
“This is it?” he said to himself.
“We are going to be filthy rich!” Johnny yelled as he took one last swing on Freddy’s face with the baseball bat – Freddy passed out. The last voice he heard was Clara’s; “leave him and let’s go. He’ll bleed to death,”
“I don’t get it. He is healing faster than a normal human being,” the first doctor said to the other doctor. They were both wearing a white robe with stethoscopes on their necks. A police officer was standing right by the door.
“He came in here with six broken ribs, a split lip, a fractured skull, a bullet wound on his leg and a lot of blood loss—now, there’s barely any sign that he has any reason to be in the hospital,” the doctor continued, explaining to the other doctor.
“How long has he been here?”
“Just four days and he is like brand new—if there was anything better than brand new, he is that,” the doctor replied.
Frederick could smell the strong stench of hospital medicine and chemicals. He could hear the co
nversations the doctors were having. He could smell the gun powder from the police officer’s gun. His eyes were not opened, but his nose could see the room. His ears painted a picture of what the room looked like. He could feel his internal organs working – his five senses sending extraordinary messages to his central nervous system.
He tried to remember what happened; clear images of what happened in the motel flowed through his mind – even clearer than before. Not only did he remember everything, he saw all the possible outcomes to the situation. No matter what, he would have ended up in the hospital.
His thoughts raced. He thought about his cousin, Jimmy. The only image that came to his mind was a dead corpse in the morgue. He didn’t know why; He couldn’t see the face on the body, he couldn’t see any name tags – all he could see was the dead corpse like he was observing it from afar.
With a great amount of force, he opened his eyes. He growled in pain as the images of the room formed. His eyes felt like a water filled balloon about to burst. He could see more images than normal.
From the voices and smells his body had programmed before, there were only four live bodies in the room. Now, there was more, but most of the people walking around the room didn’t look like they were from the present time. It looked like future events. It was very overwhelming. His head felt like a disorganized circus. Images of people dying, surgeries, women crying, children in pain, confused doctors – everything that might have happened or would happen in that exact room. He could see it all.
“STOP!” He yelled out in pain.
It ceased. The images stopped. He could see the two doctors, a nurse and the police officer in the present, all shaking in fear. Did I just see the future or am I hallucinating?
“Are you okay?” the doctor asked reluctantly as he moved closer to Frederick’s bed. Frederick nodded. He was confused. He could practically hear the heartbeat of everyone in the room.
Olivetti: Inception Page 28
