11 Minutes Novels & Stories

The elevator climbs too slowly. Thirty floors. Each number lighting up on the panel feels like a second being carved away from our lives. No one speaks. Adrian stands in front of the doors, shoulders rigid, his reflection staring back at him from the polished steel. Marcus leans against the wall, jaw tight. I can feel the tension vibrating through the small space. “How much time?” Adrian asks without turning. Marcus checks his watch. “Eight minutes.” My stomach twists. “That’s not enough time to search three floors.”

We both stand there in the middle of the living room listening to it fade down the street and then there’s silence and I press both hands over my face and try to remember how to breathe normally. “That wasn’t him,” Edmund says. “I know.” “We have time.” “I know.” I drop my hands and look at the couch and start fixing the cushions because I need something to do with my body right now or I’m going to lose my mind. “How much time do you think we actually have?” He checks his phone. The cracked screen lights up. “He said six. It’s just past four.” Two hours.

All because I ran one minute over in the bathroom, the company took away my $200,000 project bonus. My own boss criticized me in front of everyone, saying I was loafing on company time. Saying I had no respect for the new rule. So he docked my $200,000 project bonus to make an example of me. And in the same stroke, he wiped out my shot at the promotion entirely. I handed in my resignation on the spot. The next day, the CEO of the whole group came to me himself and begged me not to go.

“No.” His voice cut sharply through the room. “We wasted enough time already.” He looked to Elliot. “How long?” He asked. Elliot stared at the screen. “The old facility is about twelve minutes away.” Silence followed. Then Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “Twelve?” Nobody needed to say it. They all understood. They only had two minutes left. Impossible. Amara suddenly looked up. “No.” Everyone turned to her. Her heart was beating hard. Very hard. Because another memory had returned.

Will defends himself. "It's okay, we still have about 10 minutes," I reassure him as I quickly hug everyone else. To be precise, we have 8 minutes and 45 seconds, ticking down - 44, 43, 42, 41... and so on. "So, tell me, what did you want to give Alyanna?" Mark inquires, a question I had almost forgotten.

I cranes and makes you look intimidating. Elijah adjusted his wrist to the point he could make out the time on his watch. “You have five minutes, so I suggest that you hurry it along.” I was definitely not on this man's good side anymore.

“If the pendulum in the lower clock tower strikes twelve times in six seconds, how many seconds does it take to strike six times?” Wren blinked. For one brief second, fear disappeared from her eyes. Something sharp and brilliant replaced it. “Three seconds is the fool’s math, Kaelen,” she whispered. “There are eleven intervals in twelve strikes, so each interval is six-elevenths of a second. Six strikes require five intervals. That makes thirty-elevenths of a second. Less than three.” A slight smile crossed my lips. She had caught it instantly. No hesitation. No fog.

Friday, 6:47 p.m. I have been getting ready for forty-seven minutes, which is approximately forty-five minutes longer than it takes me to get ready for a normal human activity, and approximately forty-four minutes longer than it takes me to admit that I am not, in fact, a normal human being right now.

“Muah!” I hang up and step on the gas. I check my time, it’s 9:49am… God, I have just ten minutes to get there. God help me!

"How long?" "Thirty minutes for the first one. Maybe forty-five for the second." Forty-five minutes was too long. I didn't say that because saying it wouldn't make it shorter. "The moment either team has a visual confirmation they report directly to me." Lucas nodded and went back out.