Life After Death (#1)

Chapter One

Max Dalton awoke to the droning buzz of his alarm clock, and angled his weary head towards the red flashing 6:00am on his table. He reached out from under the warm covers and finally found the snooze button after grabbing mid-air in a few failed attempts.

It was going to be a painfully long day, but one which could prove to be both exciting and rewarding. He had been entrusted with a large presentation at the company he had slaved at for seven years with no promotion. If today went well this could all change. If he could secure a large contract, then Mr Thompson would surely have no choice but to give him the promotion he had been jumping through hoops for.

Truthfully, Max wasn't happy at all in his job, but the security of a steady -albeit unimpressive- pay check was not something he could afford to gamble with.

Max reluctantly scrambled out of bed and made his way lazily towards the bathroom of his small apartment. It was a real man's apartment, lacking the female touch that comes with having a girlfriend or wife. The simple fact was that Max barely left this dark room for anything except work, and relationships continued to evade him as he slipped ever further into his late thirties.

He fumbled around for the bathroom light, then turned on the shower, praying for hot water. He stumbled up to the toilet, aimlessly splashing the seat with piss as he threw his arms into the air for a much needed stretch. Max usually didn't bother to shave before a day of work, but a good impression was important today, so he decided to make the effort. He looked into the bathroom mirror and a tired, sickly-pale man stared back at him.

Max was 37 years old, six foot two, with broad shoulders and a naturally muscular body. His thick, black hair was messy and the odd grey hair was beginning to shine through. The deep purple bags and wrinkles under his eyes made him look like a man well into his forties, with dark, shadowy stubble covering most of his face and neck. His dark brown eyes were sad and lonely, which wasn't a false representation. He usually had the look of a man who put little effort into his appearance, but today would be an exception.

He carefully shaved his face before getting into the shower, using a more expensive, untouched bottle of shower gel which had been gifted to him by his brother a year or so earlier. Making sure to comb his hair and wear his best suit, Max skipped breakfast in order to arrive early at the meeting to prepare.

After closing the squeaky door to his apartment, he fiddled with the lock which seemed to get stuck more often than not. For once, Max was full of optimism as he began the short walk to his office.

As Max anxiously waited for the lift to reach the fifth floor, watching the numbers gradually light up one by one, he was conscious of the sweat dripping down his back as realisation ultimately sank in. This was probably one of the most important meetings of his life; it was his way out of the boring rut of a routine he had found himself in.

He didn't love his job, but Max honestly worked hard and he was excited to finally reap the rewards. He didn't get excited about much, but today was a big day.

Briefly checking himself out in the full length lift mirror, and sharpening up his collar, he reached the fifth floor and stepped out. His boss was standing by the front desk, which was strange as he rarely ventured out from his large office; having always been a creature of habit. He arrived at seven on the dot, and left at six; every day the same routine. Yet here he was, standing outside seemingly waiting for someone.

"Is something wrong, Mr Thompson?" Max asked.

"Oh... err... yes... Max, just the man I wanted to see," Mr Thompson stuttered.

"Care to step into my office?"

Max was confused at his boss' behaviour. He was usually a slick and confident character, but he now seemed nervous and frantic.