Eksamen

Task 3A
Countdown to Destruction
Blood was dripping from his forehead, forming a puddle of blood on the grey, freezing, cement floor. Carson lifts himself up onto his knees, just to find out that he is in a dirty, rotten, fungus stinking, fallen apart, cellar or a basement of some kind. He couldn't really make out due to the swallowing darkness. His head was sore, with an extreme headache, but the bleeding had stopped though.
Suddenly some blue fluorescent lights flicker on, he hadn't seen light in a while so he had to squirm his eyes to see. That's when he really noticed what was in here. Over by the corner stood an old, well used, workbench with tools. What frightened him was how the tools had been used, they definitely weren't used to build a house I can tell you. They were covered in dried out blood. Except for what looked like a police baton. That blood was fresh, it had to be his. This was to much for him, he was determined to leave.
Just as he was about to exit the door, white noise from a TV hit his ears. He spun on his heels and stared at the partially cracked TV standing in the middle of the floor. Why hadn't he seen the TV before now? There was nothing on though, still just white noise, maybe with some America's Funniest Home Videos he would have stayed, but that's obviously to much to ask for. He jumped back as an grotesque looking unknown face popped up on the screen. The man had a big, nasty looking, deep, scar, running from ear to mouth corner.
" Hello Carson," the maniac looking man said, "I want to play a game with you. As you might have observed, there is a metal device firmly clasped around your right ankle." Carson peeked down on his ankle, strangely he hadn't noticed that one either. An LED display on the device showed a series of red numbers which read 60:00.
The man continued, "I'll skip the chit chat and jump to the big deal.
I need you to assassinate Adu-Hlayad, the leader for a Foreign Terrorist Organization called PLF (Palestine Liberation Front)." Carson glanced down on his ankle, then back to the TV, "What if I don't want to play you're little game?" Carson asked in an angry tone.
The man on the screen laughed, "You have seen the timer around you're foot haven't you? You do not want the numbers to hit zero, trust me. But if they do," the man paused, "Boooooom!" Again he laughed in a deep voice, sounding just like the villains on TV. "Just remember to play by the rules and everything will work out. If you tamper with the device, the bomb will detonate. If you manage to slip it off your foot, the Hi-Tech thermometer will notice a decrease in temperature, and the bomb will go off." The man was wearing a grin on his face while stating the rules.
"Once you have done your job, you are free to go, now run off. Let the game begin!"
"You twisted, sick, bastard!" Carson screamed at the top of his hoarse throat
As the screen died out, the device began to beep, it now read 60:00,,,,,,59:59,,,,,,,59:58. "This guy isn't joking." Carson thought. "But how the heck can I now where my target is!?" Carson yelled in a terrified voice. At that exact moment his pocket buzzed, he leapt into the air with devastating fright. He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a brand new HP Pocket PC. He opened it up and read the message that he had received.
"The PLF are having a secret meeting in a building here in Washington on 6th and Sethworth street at 6:00PM. Adu-Hlayad will hold a speech up front. The balcony on the top floor of the building is unattended, there is a Sniper rifle for you there, be there ASAP."
Carson glanced at the clock in the corner of his pocket pc, 5:06.
54 minutes left until the meeting. Next he examined the countdown on the display that held onto his ankle with a firm grip, 56:34.
His jaw dropped, "I'll never make it!"
TIME TO DETONATION: 56:31
Carson sprinted out the cellar door leading up from the ground at high speed. He literally rolled out the door due to his great speed and landed on his back in the mud outside. It was raining cats and dogs, the large amount of blood loss made his head feel light and very dizzy. The rain pounded down on him as he wobbled out, headed for the busy, trafficking street. Luckily he spotted a yellow cab. "Taxi!" Carson yelled and whistled with his dried out throat. The taxi pulled over to the curb and Carson barely had the time to open the door before leaping in, soaking the passenger back seat with water. Carson breathing heavily, as if he had run a marathon 3 times in a row, barely managed to mumble, "6th and Sethworth st. how long does it take?"
"I'd guess about 45 minutes, if I'm quick." the taxi driver explained with his broad South Carolina accent. "Then be quick." Carson demanded, "Yes, sir." he quickly replied and started weaving back and forth through the traffic.
TIME TO DETONATION: 52:46
This wasn't exactly the time to take a nap. But Carson couldn't resist it, he didn't want to, but his head and body wanted to. So that's just what happened, he dozed of in the back seat with 52 minutes left to detonation.
All the honking with car horns made Carson wake up, looking all disoriented.
He pulled out his pocket pc to check the clock. It read 5:49, "No way! That can't be correct!?" Carson asked himself frustratedly. He checked the device around his ankle, 12:28 and counting. Panic struck him, only twelve minutes to the bomb goes off!
"How far away are we?" Carson asked. "About four blocks down the road and we're there. But it doesn't look like we're moving for a short period."
"How come?" Carson agitatedly responded.
"Use you're eyes." the cab driver calmly insisted. Up ahead was a collision with a big tank car, blocking the whole road. "I'll walk from here." Carson told the driver before slamming the door open and making a run for it. "My money!" The cab driver screamed while exiting the vehicle. As soon as he he saw Carson's determination and speed he quickly found out that a foot chase would be to no use.
TIME TO DETONATION: 11:55
Carson raced down the streets, passing the collision he started to read street names while running. Denver st., Morish st., St. Helena st. He kept on running while glancing down on his ankle. 8 minutes and 21 seconds left to detonation.
6 minutes left to the meeting.
There! 6th and Sethworth st. A big old beige building with smashed windows, and chunks fallen off it. A fire escape with stairs ran down the side of the building, he couldn't just bust in the main entrance, so in case they were already there he went for the fire escape.
Climbing the steps 3 by 3, rushing so fast he's feet hardly can keep up. Breathing heavier than ever, and light headedness coming back, he was feeling dizzy. Finally at the top he caught his breath while glancing at the countdown before entering the fire exit.
TIME TO DETONATION: 3:52
He was in, the seats up on the balcony were rat infested, and rotten. There was no light up there so they can't spot him. When he looked down to where the meeting will be held he saw that this was an old theatre, the speech podium was up on the stage, and the rest of the members were sitting in the audience seat rows. They were all Palestine looking or Arabs, he couldn't make out. Near the edge lied the Sniper, already mounted. All he had to do was to wait for the leader, aim, and fire.
TIME TO DETONATION: 1:32
Carson lied down on the edge, aiming for the podium, looking like a pro assassin. Although he had never fired a weapon before, he had seen many films and knew how it was done.
Suddenly all the men seated started clapping and chanting in an unknown language. Three men, all with shawl, and a long coat dragging at the floor, entered the room and were headed for the stage. Carson, sweating like a pig, and losing his patience followed the men all the way up to the podium with his Sniper scope. One of them took a step towards the microphone on the podium and started speaking, "Ašhadu 'al-lā ilāha illā-llāhu illa Allah wa 'ašhadu 'anna Muħammadan rasūlu-llāh." Carson aimed him right in the heart, but as soon as he had a clear shot, he stepped back. "What!?! If they are all going to speak how do I know who's the leader?" he mumbled to himself. Panic really kicked in, sweat pearls rolling off his cheek.
TIME TO DETONATION: 00:46
He aimed the man currently speaking between his two eyes. Carson's finger itching to pull the trigger and put a stop to this madness. Once again as soon as his aim was steady, the Palestine man stepped back to join the others. The countdown now reached 15 seconds. Now it started beeping for each second passing. Carson really has no choice then to gamble who to shoot.
10 seconds..... He aims for the man first speaking.
9 seconds....... His head starts feeling dizzy again, his aim is completely unstable.
8...7...6...5... Four seconds pass while Carson tries to clear away the dizziness.
4 seconds........ He aims for the man currently speaking.
3 seconds...... He puts his bet on the guy in the middle since, leaders usually stand in the middle. Aims for a head shot, he holds his breath for better stability.
2 seconds.......... His finger is twitching on the trigger, then he pulls.
A loud bang echoes through the whole theatre like thunder, blood splattered on the curtain behind the man who's body fell limp on the floor, headless. Carson quickly looks down on his ankle, 00:01........00:00. A long beeping tone went off, and Carson curls himself together like an infant, just waiting for the big bang, the beeping stopped.
Chaos and panic are two good words to describe what is going on downstairs, men jumping over each other, trampling each others to the ground, fighting for the exit. The only relieved man in the building is Carson. He lets his shoulders down and lets go of a mixture of laughter and sobbing.
Then his pocket buzzes, he grabs his pocket pc and brings it out. A live stream video is shown on the pc, "You lose my friend." the man says with a large, joker like grin on his face. "What do you mean? I'm alive, I'm right here!" Carson happily exclaims. The man stares back at Carson, looking like a question mark. For a few seconds they just stare at each other, Carson now the one grinning. Until the man finally lights up, "Oh, I must have forget to tell you something, I'm pretty forgetful. First of all, you shot the wrong man." Carson's smile vanishes into a devastated face, "Second of all, the bomb isn't around your foot, that's just the countdown. Here, take a look."
A picture pops up on his pocket pc, a picture of what looks like a house shattered to bits. By further examining, he recognizes the chimney, the special designed marble chimney, then Carson's blood went cold, it was his house. And worst of all, in all the havoc of shattered wood, lay two bodies. The two bodies of his wife and daughter, torn to pieces.
Carson bursts out in tears, screams with tear wet eyes, and a face of revenge, "You sick fuck! I will hunt you down, slaughter you, and feed you to the fishes you filthy piece of scum!"
"You should have played by the rules Carson." The man coldly states,
"Game over."