The 49th Floor

By Jason C. Anderson

Another day... another dollar... or at least that's what John Price thought. That was until the power in his office building went down and he found himself trapped on the 49th floor in darkness. Unfortunately for John, he was not alone. The head of a major pharmaceutical company brought something back from the Amazonian rainforest and it has a fondness for human flesh—preferably John's.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Anderson
• Release date: Dec 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502200983

Book preview

A Short Story

Jason C. Anderson

The 49th Floor

This is a work of fiction. Characters, institutions, and organizations mentioned in this short story are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.

Copyright @ 2015 by Jason C. Anderson

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organizations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning, or by any information storage or retrieval system, or otherwise) without the written permission of the publisher, except when permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Chapter One

THE MORNING WAS SIMILAR TO ANY normal morning along the busy streets of the Financial District. The hot summer sun was making itself known as it rose above the buildings, baking the concrete sidewalks and everyone walking on it.

Wearing the finest Italian-made suit money could buy, John Price moved along the sidewalks, pushing people out of his way. The day had not started out well, and he was late to an important prospect meeting he planned to close today. John was already in a terrible mood as he ran across the street, forcing cars to slam on their brakes.

Use the crosswalk, idiot! one driver cried out as his bumper nearly kissed John on the hip.

Watch where you are going! yelled another, who punched his horn in anger.

John ignored them as he made his way onto the sidewalk next to his building. He cut off a woman carrying a baby and jumped into the spinning, turnstile door leading into the lobby of the Stevenson Financial Center. John paid no attention to the prestigious building with polished, marble floors and tall, white columns that rose to the ceilings high above. Instead, the handsome businessman raced to the first set of elevators positioned on the northeast corner of the building, pushed the button, and waited for the elevator.

John looked at his watch—thirty minutes late. The Culbertsons were not going to be happy with him. To make matters worse, the elevator took an unusually long time to make its way down to the lobby floor. This only aggravated the man further, causing him to mutter out, Damn elevator, in front of a dozen other people waiting around him.

When he thought it might never come, the white elevator light blinked on, and the doors opened to reveal four large men in black suits. Huddled between them was a smaller, pale-looking man clutching