Horror and Thriller Fiction posted November 7, 2016

Not yet exceptional. When the exceptional rating is reached this is highlighted
An employee and his boss find themselves trapped in a car

Over the edge

by oliver818

Stop Contest Winner 

The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
The wheels squealed loudly as the metal barrier gave way with a shriek, and the huge four-wheel drive tumbled over the edge of the ravine.

Trees snapped in half, small bushes were uprooted and rocks and dirt flew in all directions. The car flipped over several times before landing with a resonating bang on all four wheels.

The confused, blurry image of snapped, snowy pines and shards of glass broke through Jim's line of vision. The steering wheel seemed to be bent at a strange angle, down onto his knees, restricting his movements. His fingers tugged at the door handle. It wouldn't budge. A rustle of clothing and the click of a seatbelt coming undone reminded him of his passenger.

"Are you okay, Mr. Ronald?"


"I said, are you okay?"

"Of course I am. Why are we stopped?"

"Well, we just had an accident."

"An accident? You clumsy idiot. If there's any money to be paid, it's coming out of your salary. Did you at least get the other guy's insurance information?"

"No, Mr. Ronald, there wasn't anyone else involved."

"No one else was involved? You mean you hit a tree or something? For goodness sake, man, I really don't know why I keep you on. You're bloody useless."

"No, I mean we hit some ice and spun out of control and then rolled down a ravine."

"Down a ravine? Well why the hell did you choose a road that goes through a ravine? That's just careless. So, how far away are we from the hotel now? An hour? Two?

Jim's eyebrows rose high above his eyes. His boss' ability to to tune out reality was legendary.

"Mr. Ronald, we just had a terrible accident. The front of the car is crushed, and the doors seem jammed. I doubt we can even get out, let alone make it to the hotel."

"What on earth do you want to get out of the car for if we haven't arrived at the hotel yet?"

Jim decided to ignore his boss for a moment, and took out his cellphone. Still two bars, it should be enough to make a call for help.

"And what do you think you're doing now? I've told you about making phone calls on my time. I pay you to drive. Now hurry up and take me to the hotel."

"Mr. Ronald, we are at the bottom of a steep cliff. We can't drive anywhere."

He began to dial nine one one.

"Why you impertinent little shit. What did I just tell you? No phone calls during work time. Give me that phone at once. You'll get it back after we arrive at the hotel."

The old man's hand reached out and grabbed the phone out of Jim's hand.

"What are you doing? Give that back, I'm trying to get us some help."

"Get help? You're the bloody help. I pay you to help me, and you just try to push the responsibility onto someone else? That is so typical of your slack generation."

"For fuck's sake."

"What did you just say? Did you swear at me? You know what? This is going out the window. You can consider this a punishment for your use of foul language."

The old man's finger slammed down on the electric window switch, but nothing happened.

"Why isn't this working? You are responsible for maintaining this car, how dare you let it get so damaged that the windows don't even open?"

"This is ridiculous. I can't take this anymore. I fucking quit."

"Oh you do, do you? Well that's just fine because your attitude is lousy and your work is even worse."

"Fuck you. Give me my phone."

"No. I told you, I've confiscated it."

The phone disappeared inside the old man's jacket pocket.

"It's cold out here. If you want to survive, we need to call for help."

"Cold? You wimp, this isn't cold. It's just a little snow. Winters are nothing like they used to be when I was a kid."

"Now listen, you crazy old bastard, we are going to freeze to death out here if you don't give me my fucking phone."


"Fine. I'll get it myself."

Jim's hand reached over into the pocket of the old man's jacket. The old man's palm slapped down Jim's hand away.

"Get away from me, you little punk."

Jim's strong arm reached across and crushed the old man back into his seat. Mr. Ronald began to wheeze, as Jim held him back, fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his phone. His arm pulled back and the old man's chest rattled as he gasped for breath.

The phone beeped as Jim dialled the emergency number again.

"Hello, police? Oh thank goodness. Look, I was driving with my boss and we skidded on some ice and rolled down into a ravine. We are both alright, but we are stuck in the car and need help."

"Give me that."

The old man was quicker than he looked and he tugged the phone away from Jim's ear. He hung up and threw the phone behind him into the back of the car, far out of Jim's reach.

"You fucking madman. They don't know where we are. You just killed us both."

"Oh don't exaggerate. You're such a weakling, afraid of everything. Boo hoo, we are stuck in a car at the bottom of a ravine and you threw my phone away. Whose money paid for that phone in the first place? That's right, mine."

"That's fucking it. I am so sick of your bullshit."

Jim 's fist crashed into the old man's face. The wrinkled old, nose cracked and blood burst out. The fist pulled back, ready to strike again.

"Stop! Stop, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please, just stop."

Jim's knuckles were covered in blood. The old man held his handkerchief to to his nose as he wheezed.

"You know what, if I was thirty years younger, I'd kill you for punching me like that. A bloody sissy's punch, that was."

"Oh that's it, old man. You're going down."

As Jim moved to the right to punch again, he felt a terrible pain where the old man's hand had struck him in the throat. Stunned, he gasped for breath. The hand hit him again, in the nose this time, and then both hands rained down on him, pummelling his head, face and chest until everything went dark.

"Disrepectful little brat. Who the hell does he think he is, talking to me like that?"

The old man reached out and tried his door. Stuck. He banged his shoulder into it. It creaked and swung open.

"Finally. I always have to do everything my bloody self. What's the point in being a millionaire if no one ever helps you?"

Hks legs pushed back as he tried to get out of the car, but he appeared to be stuck. Snow was falling now, and the forest around him was soon totally white. He shivered and his arm reached out to close the door, but it was too far away. He pulled out his thick wallet.

"Is anyone there? Please, help me. I'm not old enough to die yet. I still have so much left to do. If you help me, I promise I'll make it worth your while. Look, I have five thousand here, cash. It's all yours. And I have more I can give you later if we can go to the bank. Please, someone."

The wind howled around him, carrying off his miserable words as the car filled with white flakes.

"Okay, now it really is as cold as when I was a kid," he mumbled to himself.

Cradling his chest with his arms, he closed his eye. Tears froze before they even had a chance to fall.

When the rescue team found them two days later, a handful of solid, frozen bills were splayed in the old man's fingers and his mouth was frozen into a terrifying wail of desperation.

Writing Prompt
Write a story of any type. But at someone point your character must shout: Stop!

Contest Winner

Any resemblance to a possible future US president is probably purely coincidental
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