The Final Moment
STEPHEN NIELSEN
Author:
Stephen Nielsen
Editor:
Frieda Nielsen
Cover art by Stephen Nielsen
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The Final Moment
Copyright © 2013 by Stephen Nielsen
All rights reserved.
No Part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Note from the author:
This Novella is written in the views of the different main characters from each part. It will usually switch between each character for each chapter. There may be two chapters in a row with the same character, which is purposefully designed to get to know the characters better and see their perspective.
I hope you enjoy
Part I
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
-Philippians 4:13
Chapter 1: Jack
On a bright September 2013 Friday morning I am getting my school and football gear ready. As I walk out of my 5000 square foot house, my mother, Tina Warner, hollers, “I think you will need these tonight!” It turns out that I forgot to bring my new Nike football cleats. I quickly dump my gear into my white 2010 model Ford Mustang and run back to get my cleats.
My mom is a housewife, and a mother of three boys, myself, my older brother Ryan Warner who is in his second year of college, and my younger brother Steve Warner. She used to have a part-time job at an elementary school but ever since my dad got a promotion she stopped working. My dad Matt Warner recently became the CEO of a computer company in Maryland. My dad and mom have been married as many years as I am old, 17 years. My younger brother and I both play football for Bethesda-Chevy Chase High school. I am a 6’1 wide receiver; I have short semi spiky dark brown hair with brown eyes and around 150 pounds. My brother is a 5’9 running back with brown hair and eyes; he has a bit more muscle around his legs, but he is only around 5 pounds heavier than me. All of us are Caucasian, and both my parents were born and raised up in the US.
I take my cleats and get in my car to drive a few blocks to my girlfriend’s house to take her to school. She, Riley Hardy, is waiting outside when I arrive. She is Caucasian with light brown hair that flows a few inches past her shoulders with bluish grey eyes; she is slim and is about 5’6. We are both in our senior year at BCC; I am planning on going to a football college while she is interested in the Arts. When we get to the school it is the usual routine: get bored in math, and then zoom through the rest of the classes, all the time talking about the game tonight and getting hyped up. Riley is on the cheer leading squad so I don’t have to drive her home before the game. In the locker room we go over our game plan again, I pray with a few of my friends, and we head out. The few seats we have in the stands are filled and people are cheering. My best friend, Chris Wilson, is our quarterback; he also has a girlfriend that is on the cheer leading squad.
The game starts out slow, both teams trying to find a rhythm. We are losing 7-14 at the half; we had mainly run the ball giving it to my brother for 13 carries for 40 yards. In the locker room the coach said: “Look at me boys! They have taken away most of our passing game and have more possession time. Defense great job at blocking those field goals and only holding them to two touchdowns.” The defense had played well and we are still in this game, trailing by only a touchdown. The coach then tells us the second half game plan; “Alright, their FS is injured so we’ll start with runs until we get a first down. Then, run a play action pass and Jack will run a go rout.” We continue to plan and make suggestions for our first drive.
To start the second half they kicked off to us and Steve returned it to the 40 yard line. We hit two runs up the middle for 14 yards. Now it is my time to use my speed to get past the coverage. The ball is snapped and I block for a brief moment then take off. Chris and Steve did sell the fake really well and the backup FS had bitten on it. I am streaking down the field wide open. I look back and catch a glimpse of the ball, a wide arch in the air and it falls neatly into my hands. I run into the end zone and dunk the ball through the uprights. The rest of the game is history; we crush our opponents 49 to 21. After the game I tally up my stats: seven receptions for 103 yards and two touchdowns.
When I get home my dad opens the door for me. “Hi, did you like the game?” I ask him. “Yeah, there was just one slight problem,” he replies. “What?” I ask. “You. The coach should not have put you in, you played terribly,” he replies. “What? How?” I ask confused. “Well, you dropped at least half of the balls that were thrown your way. You can rarely get distance between you and the cornerback,” “You always do this. I come home after working my butt off on the field and you have something negative to say,” I say angry. Then he says: “Yeah, well you can’t be thinking of scholarships to good colleges when you can’t even play well on a high school team.” “Yeah, well not only do I try and impress my teammates but also you. Apparently you don’t seem to notice,” I respond.
Then Steve walks in. Dad puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder and says: “Great job son. Well played out there; I can really see the effort that you are putting in out there. I like those spin moves you did out there.” “Thanks dad,” Steve replies with a smile. My dad was a cornerback in the NFL and has always wanted me to play that position. I was only able to move to wide receiver after I was at the age that he could not coach me. He tries to keep me away from practices or I am usually late.
Steve goes up to his room and I ask my dad: “So why do you favor him? How did he do better than I did?” “Because he was meant for football, you aren’t. He has all of the skill and know how that you don’t have,” he replies. Not wanting to take this argument further I just leave to my room. I got kind of use to this ‘welcome’ when I get home after each game. It seems that he loves me every time that my football is not the subject of our discussion.
Come Sunday I am sitting in the pews of our church with my family, except dad, and a few others from my team. Well the only difference is Riley; normally she would be beside me. Long story short we had an argument about how I was Saturday. I couldn’t blame her; that is our day for us to be together; we would go to a college game, or have a picnic, even taking a walk in the park with my Labrador Jerry. I had kind of ignored her and hung out with my friends playing in the backyard and reliving our victory. I was sure she wouldn’t mind, but that is the thing with her; she wants Saturday to be just us. I had also said some things that shouldn’t be repeated.
The whole week she wouldn’t talk. I wait two weeks. I call her, but no answer. I guess she is really mad. I ask Chris if I am doing anything wrong or if he has any advice for me. I am like the day without a sun; it is gloomy and dark. I couldn’t bear not talking to her for such a long time! I finally drive over to her place. I am met by her sister. “Hi.” I say: “I came to talk to Riley. Is she home?” I hear Riley’s voice in the distance, “What do you want?” she comes to the door. “Once again I'm sorry for what happened Saturday a few weeks ago. Will you forgive me?” She responds, “Yes. Is there anything else?” “Yeah,” I start, “Chris and Emily are wondering if you and I want to go bowling then have dinner afterwards. Would you like to go?” Her eyes are fireflies; so bright, but it quickly goes away. I can tell that she is trying not to sound too excited, “Yeah I guess I’ll go.” I want a definite yes or no answer; “Come on, give me a real yes or no answer please. I want to k
now if you really want to go or not?”
I pick her up at 4:30 and we drive to go meet Chris and Emily. It seems that Riley has forgotten all about what I had done. We have a blast, gutter balls and strikes for everyone. The dinner is delicious; Chris had picked a great place to eat. Chris’ phone makes a beeping sound. He picks it up, reads it and exclaims: “OH NO!” the rest of us say in unison “What?!” Chris takes off for his car and speeds away. I take a bill out of my pocket, give it to the waiter and take off in my car with Riley and Emily. Emily is a blonde haired 5’5 girl; she and Riley sit in the back, Riley comforting a girl who is stunned and shocked. I see his tail lights glow as he slows to take a corner. I speed after him; I take the corner a little faster than I should and make the tires screech.
All of a sudden I am remembering what Chris and I had done together, the experiences we had, the NFL games we went to and the death of his mother that happened a few months ago. I then think of his brother and dad; his brother had just gotten his license. Dear God I think, please don’t let it be him. We get on the freeway, see some flashing lights. The fire trucks are wailing like babies. There are police cars and ambulances everywhere. I see two cars tangled up together. Chris’ car is parked close by. I pull up and tell the girls to stay in the car while I go and talk to an officer. I walk back to the car, let the girls out. I tell them the horrifying news; Chris’ brother, Bob, was racing his friend when his friend swerved right into Bob. Emily sees Chris and runs to him. Riley stays by me and weeps while I rock her in my arms.
Chapter 2: Jack
Bob is lying in a Hospital bed covered in bandages. The low tone of the heart rate monitor going: ‘Beep, beep, beep.’ Chris is beside him speaking, but I cannot hear what he is saying. I knock and step in. Chris spins around and greets me: “Hey man, you good?” “Yeah fine,” I respond, “How is he?” There is a moment of silence before he says: “It’s not looking good.” He continues: “I don’t know what to do. My dad should be here any minute now.” Silence. Neither of us says anything; we just wait for something to happen. I huff then say: “Alright, I’ll take the girls home. OK?” “Yeah fine,” he mumbles.
His dad enters the room as I am leaving. “Hi Jack, how are you?” Mr. Wilson says as he tries to keep his booming voice down. “Fine Mr. Wilson.” Is that all I can say? I mean his son could be dead tomorrow. I mumble, “I’m sorry to hear about your son.” Is that even right? I hurry past him and get to the lobby. “Let’s go. I’ll also take you home Emily,” I say to the girls as I reach for the keys in my pocket. “No,” she protests, “I want to stay here.” “Come on, it is late and I’m sure your parents don’t know you are here. Heck, my parents don’t know I’m here,” I remind her. Riley pitches in, “Yeah, Jack is right Emily; we do need to get home.” Reluctantly Emily gets up, “Fine.”
The engine roars to life, it is the only thing that seems to have life. I pull out of the parking lot. I grab a hold of my small golden cross hanging from my neck and slide it back under my shirt. I think, why him? Why did it have to be him? He is such a great guy. Chris has handled his mother’s death so well, but can he handle two deaths in one year? I pray, for Chris’ life and for Bob to keep his.
We arrive at Emily’s house. I get out with her and escort her to the front door. I knock trying not to wake her little brothers up. Mr. Miles comes to the door. He nods towards me, and then turns to speak with Emily, “Emily! Where have you been all of this time? Where is Chris? He is going to get a talking to from me!” Emily starts to cry trying not to remember what happened. “Excuse me sir, but may I speak to you for a moment?” I ask. I motion for Riley to come and join Emily while I speak with Mr. Miles. We step in; Riley goes with Emily to Emily’s room while Mr. Miles motion me to sit in the living room.
He starts, “So why is my daughter home late? And, where is Chris?” “Sir,” I start. “While we were eating dinner Chris got a text from the police saying his brother had an accident on the I-270 N. It was bad and he ended up in the hospital. We were at the hospital waiting when we were finally able to meet with Bob. We came straight here afterwards. Chris is still there with his dad. Bob is still alive, but we don’t know if he will stay alive or not.” It appears that Mr. Mile feel guilty about what he had said earlier. “Excuse me. I must go speak with my daughter,” he says. “I need to go too. Can you send Riley down?” I ask. “Sure Jack,” he responds.
Thankfully Riley has her phone and she has told her parents what had happened. We arrive at her house. I say a quick good night, give a quick hug, and she bounds up the stairs. I wait until she is inside then drive home.
I am greeted by my angry mother, “Where have you been! Steve has been here alone for the past few hours when you should have been home!” Steve butts in: “Mom I’m 16, I can handle it.” She gives Steve a cold stare. “Mom I can explain.” I start. “No!” comes the answer, “Go to your room.” I look at dad for some help, but all I get is a nod in the direction of my room. I walk up to my room, sit on my bed and stare at my big guitar case, if just Bob had a lot of protection like that. My guitar case isn’t just to protect my guitar; it has other functions as well. I learned to play when I went to summer camp; I picked up the case and other things to go along from there as well.
Chapter 3: Riley
It is a beautiful Friday morning, just like it is in the movies. A clear sky the sun peaking out over the horizon, the birds singing. I get up, get dressed, and head down stairs. Surprisingly my younger sister Sophie is already up. Normally I am be the first one up; I have early cheer leading practice so that we can be prepared for the game. My phone buzzes. That is odd, hardly anyone texts me this early. It is strange that everything is odd today. Anyway I glance at my phone; it is Jack! Oh Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack! I can say his name a million times and not get bored of it. He is such a great guy as well. Well, when he gets annoyed it isn’t nice. Besides that he is the best boy that any girl can have. I lo… “Hello!” my sister blurts out.
“Umm what?” I ask. Sophie speaks with a mouth full of food, “Are you gonna read that text or keep fantasizing?” I snarl: “Yeah, yeah. Why are you up so early anyways?” She seemed to struggle with her words, she then says: “I wanted to ask about why you were home so late last night.” “I don’t want to talk about that now, OK,” I say as I poured my cereal. “So who wrote to you?” she asks as she spoons food into her mouth. “Oh, right,” I start while fumbling with the phone. “It was Jack; he can’t pick me up so I have to take the bus or use mom’s car.” She snarls, “Some boyfriend.” I stare at her with a confused look.
Jack also wrote in the text that he was at the hospital with Chris and Bob, and that Bob is doing much better. I don’t want my sister to know anything until we know for sure that Bob is going to be OK or if he didn’t make it. I write to Jack with a simple: “OK, glad to hear he is better.”
I put my laptop into my bag, add my cheerleader costume, grab my mom’s car keys, and head out. My mom Karen is a housewife. She also hosts a bunch of women’s groups. My dad Kyle is the CEO of Bank of America in D.C.
It is 7:15 am as I get into the Honda Accord. It is a nice car, four door sedan. There is a lot more room in the back than there is in Jack’s mustang. I get to the school around 7:30 and head to the gym for the early morning practice.
As I had suspected Chris is not at school today. Music, Art, and Drama are my favorite subjects and I have all of them today. Sadly Jack doesn’t like those very much, except for music. He likes Social Studies, Design Tech, Computer Tech, and, well obviously PE.
Chapter 4: Chris
A few months after Bob’s accident we are back at the hospital getting his last check up. Thankfully he passes without any problems. We are going to spend Christmas at home and family would be coming over for Christmas Eve dinner. It is a Sunday morning and as usual I am at church. I sit with my best friends, Emily, Jack, and Riley. We will also be going to a Redskins game later on today. The pastor’s sermon is all too familiar. It is abo
ut cherishing your loved ones and holding them close to you because they don’t last forever on this earth. He also mentions that if they were a believer like himself you should rejoice because they have gone to a better place; heaven. I am glad that my parents showed me the right path when I was a young boy and still now as I grow.
I had already lost my mom, and a few months ago I almost lost my brother to a car accident. My brother Robert Wilson, who goes by Bob, is a sophomore in the same High School as me, and in a different class than Steve, Jack’s brother. Bob doesn’t play football, but he is really good with computers and at English.
The church service is over and I take Emily, Jack, and Riley back to my house to change and get ready for the game later this afternoon. It is the Redskins vs. the Cowboys at FedEx Field, the home of the Washington Redskins.
As soon as everyone finished dressing and ate an early lunch we drive off in my Chevrolet Malibu 2012 edition sedan. We hope that we can get a parking space in the parking lot. We all have a Redskin jerseys on; I am wearing a #10 GRIFFIN III. Jack has a #88 GARÇON, Emily a #46 MORRIS, and Riley a #91 KERRIGAN.
We finally get to the stadium and seated ourselves in the front row right at the end zone. This game is an early Christmas present that we all got from our parents. The ball is kicked off to the Redskins to start the game. Evan Royster, #22, is back to receive the kick. The ball flies in the air and Royster catches it. He runs to the 20 yard line and makes a spin move, the crowd roars. Then, Niles Paul, #84, makes a crucial block.
Chapter 5: Emily
Royster breaks away from the jumble of players and out into the open. The crowd is going wild; there is just the kicker to beat. Touchdown! We scream our heads off. The two teams battle it out and in the beginning of the second quarter Tony Romo drives the Cowboys’ offense into the end zone for a score. We (the Redskins) quickly respond and make a field goal. It is halftime; I love the halftime shows. The boys, however, don’t really as I have learnt from previous games and Chris asks: “You girls want anything to drink or eat? Jack and I are going to get something.” I nod at Chris in acknowledgement, he already knows my order. I always order the same thing at games, Arizona Green tea. Riley says: “I’ll take an Arnold Palmer if they have. If not, just get me something Jack.” The boys leave and I ask Riley, “You want an old golfer?” “Oh no,” she starts. “It is Arizona Tea mixed with lemonade. Haven’t you tried one before?” “I have heard of it, but never tried it.” I reply.
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