The Clairvoyant is a fictional story. Any resemblance is purely coincidental.
It was a cold, windy morning in Boston but another usual day for Matt Douglas and Ron Sniper.
“Good Morning,” said Matt, sitting at the table, as he yawned and poured the coffee into the mug.
“Morning,” Ron replied with a smirk on his face as he entered the kitchen and opened the door of the refrigerator.
“What’s for breakfast today?” asked Matt, neglecting the smirk.
“Well…let me see. We have some pancakes, some more pancakes….and……juice!” said Ron with unusual enthusiasm as he scanned the refrigerator.
“What??.. that’s what we had yesterday” Matt expressed fake disappointment looking at Ron.
“Chef’s on leave today, buddy” replied Ron in a sarcastic tone mixed with frustration as he sat down beside Matt. “Get your ass up early if you want fresh breakfast,” Ron said, pressing Matt’s shoulder with some force and giving him an intense stare.
“Don’t get angry babe,” Matt instantly responded in a weird romantic tone, taking deep breaths, and rolled his fingers over Ron’s shoulder. “I’ll do whatever you want….but from tomorrow. Let’s go out today sweetheart. Breakfast’s on me.”
“Back off……creep,” said Ron as he pushed away Matt’s hand from his shoulder.
Ron grabbed the keys and they drove off to a nearby café hurling banters.
Matt Douglas was a lean, intelligent, humorous, and thin-colored man from Belmont. He was a professor in the Clinical Investigation department at Boston University and had moved in with Ron a couple of years ago. His parents died a long time back in Belmont, in an untraceable blast at a gas station. Ron Sniper, Matt’s neighbor and childhood friend, had to leave Belmont one day due to his job requirements. He took his old parents with him. But, they were killed in a road accident just a few days after they all moved to Bosto. Ron was a detective with the Boston Police Department. He was tall, dark, short-tempered, broad-shouldered, crazy, fearsome, and had an aspiration to become a sergeant one day. Only, controlling his nerves was a tough ask.
Best friends, Ron and Matt had a very close and pretty much unbreakable bond. Even their jobs complemented each others’.
The Bostonians were enjoying their occasional “different” breakfast when Ron got a call on his cell phone.
“Got to go. Work call.” Ron said to Matt as he hung up.
“Can you give me a ride to the university?” Matt asked.
“Ok. Let’s go.” Ron shook his head and they drove off.
It was a long day. Matt called up Ron to inquire if he can pick him up from the university, and then they can probably grab dinner together. Ron picked him up. Matt was an avid lover of country music which Ron was not very fond of. Exasperated, Ron was about to ask Matt to change the channel when he heard a voice on the wireless – “Inzaghi positive”. The gas station, 976 Washington Street.” Ron took a speedy u-turn as soon as he perceived the call.
“What are you doing?” Matt shouted grabbing hold of the handle.
“It’s Alexandro Inzaghi. I need to get there.” said Ron, pressing the accelerator with more force.
“Wait, what?? Alexandro Inzaghi? The Drug Lord? No way,” Matt shouted with both anger and fear. “Why am I supposed to die in all this? I don’t even have a girlfriend yet.”
“Not funny Matty….and it’s going to be fine. Stay calm”
Ron made it in time, but just. Inzaghi was about to leave the gas station with his men. The Italian was sitting in the backseat of a grey Rolls Royce. He smoked a cigar and dawned a white cowboy hat, maybe to hide his identity. He looked strong-built, brown-skinned, had a mustache, and was in the mid-’50s.
Adrenaline rushed, and without a thought, Ron pulled over his car in front of Inzaghi’s and quickly stepped out. Pointing his gun at the Royce, he asked Inzaghi and his men to come out with hands behind their back. Before he could even take a step further, rounds of fire started flashing past him, and he had to quickly jump back inside the car.
“What the hell. I am gonna die. F***,” Matt shouted at Ron in a low voice and kept his head down, as bullets shattered the windscreen of their car.
“Stay down, nothing’s gonna happen.” Ron tried to calm down Matt.
Ron pulled out his walky-talky and asked for an immediate backup. Inzaghi’s men were raining bullets at Ron’s car. Ron tried to step out and make a futile attempt to stop them, but the flashes were too much to handle for him. Inzaghi easily escaped in the cushion of the bullets.
“F***,” Ron felt stupid for a moment, but then quickly got inside the car thinking of giving Inzaghi a chase. He inquired with Matt if he was ok? but there was a deafening silence. Matt didn’t respond and still had his head down. “Get up Matty, they’re gone, it’s fine now,” Ron said in an assuring tone as he put his hand over Matt’s head. Immediately, he felt something sticky, and as he pulled back his hand to look at it, to his horror, it was all red. Matt was hit right in the head and was bleeding profusely. Ron went into a state of shock and panic. He felt nothing for a moment and trembled as tears rolled down his eyes.
Ron somehow gathered his senses and drove as fast he could to the hospital. He knew he had no time. Matt was immediately taken to the OR. There was no way Matt was going to survive. Millions of thoughts were racing through Ron’s head. He was devastated and was cursing himself. Hope was his only savior. The hope of not losing Matt, the most important person in his life.
For 6 hours, doctors were inside the operation room. To everyone’s surprise, the operation was successful. Matt was confirmed to be out of danger but was to be kept under observation and was advised complete rest. Ron couldn’t believe first what he heard, but then tears of joy filled his eyes and he cried like a child.
A couple of days passed, and Matt was shifted from the ICU. Doctors had finally given the police consent to record Matt’s statement.
“Ron, we are going to take his statement. You are not in a position to……,” Ron nodded even before Sergeant Luther could finish his sentence. He was still embracing hatred for himself for what he did.
As soon as the Sergeant entered the room, Matt shouted pressing his head with both hands, “I don’t know anything about them.” Ron came rushing inside.
Image by Gerd Altmann (user:geralt) from Pixabay
WRITTEN BY
AYUSH PANDYA
(AUTHOR – THE UNPRECEDENTED CULT)
