I wrote this a few months after Nick Leeson brought Barings Bank to it's knees around 1996, tongue in cheek, it's full of flaws and past it's Sell-by date ~ but it still makes me smile:

Backup

Pete crouched over his ancient laptop watching the Windows Screen Saver, repeating over and over until it finally shut down.   He got up and made himself a mug of coffee. 

 “Aaah!”   The strong hot liquid scalded his tongue.  He tapped angrily at the space bar with his thumb impatient for the page to refresh.   Re-reading a dozen lines of 10 point Arial his expression soured.   Hi-lighting the text he pressed the [DEL] button.   After a second more tentative sip of coffee, he sat composing his thoughts, then began to type:

        If he had survived a worse predicament Jake Standon really couldn’t remember when.   He backed towards the edge cutting left and right with his machete, keeping the wild eyed tribesmen out of range.   But, there were seven of them.   As he turned left they closed in on his right, spears levelled, they inevitably drove him closer to the precipice…

“Think Jake,” he said his desperation evident as he willed his key character to come up with some inspired course of action.   He felt a pair of hands come to rest on his shoulders.

“Hit a sticky patch hon?”   Suzie’s husky voice asked.   Her hand reached over his shoulder to pick up his, still steaming, mug of coffee.   He turned and watched in amazement as she drained it in one go.

“How do you do that?”  He asked with incredulity, folding his burned tongue in half, sucking it gently to ease the pain.

She grinned and tousled her short dusty blonde hair.  She was wearing a flimsy figure hugging little black thing with matching slippers.  

She looked so inviting, in the moonlight, in silhouette, against the French windows.

“I’ll get some more coffee,” she offered avoiding his question.  

With two steaming mugs on the table he began to explain Jake’s predicament.

“Usually I write and he seems to find his own way out of these situations.   But, this time nothing!   It’s as if he wants to fall over that cliff.”

“Then let him,” she answered, “just see what happens?”

“But…” he began.

“Do it!”  She said.

He swayed from side to side narrowly avoiding their penetrating attacks, as they relentlessly pushed him backward, his heels were on the brink.   He dare not look down or he would loose his balance; he was close to exhaustion.   He knew in his heart this was the end.   His rear foot slipped right over the edge; he grinned as a sudden, icy calm, acceptance pervaded his mind.   He slashed out attacking; all hope gone.  Staggering forward he fell to his knees but instead of finishing him off his attackers drew back.   The ground shook beneath him.   A crack appeared in the earth, describing an arc around him.   As he watched it widened, edge to edge, separating him from them.   The world tipped at a crazy angle and the lip passed his eye level, in slomo, only then did he glance down…

“That’s good,” said Suzie.

“But, he’s going to die...”

“Maybe, maybe not Pete, have a little faith.   The three of us have been through a lot of late nights together.   We’ve put a lot of miles on the clock but he’s still alive and breathing; figuratively speaking.   I just know he’ll find a way out you’ll see.  Tomorrow is another day.  Now for goodness sake, save it, and let’s go up to bed,” she said.

He looked at her, with admiration and followed without further protest.

  His descent was abruptly interrupted.   He felt a sharp pain between his legs.   The world rotated, through one eighty degrees, but he clung on grimly, with his calves and crossed legs. Raising his hands he grasped the stunted bush that had arrested his fall.   Instinctively he edged in, towards the cliff face, as rocks and other debris hurtled past too close for comfort.   His eyes stung from the excruciating pain, but fortune smiled, and nothing actually hit him.   At the face he realised just how precarious his situation was.  Several of the roots, anchoring the bush, had already torn free from the sparse soil.   He needed to transfer as much of his weight as possible, from the bush, by establishing finger holds on the rock face itself.   For minutes he clung on, sinews stretched and aching; beyond pain.   He could no longer be seen from above, and the silence suggested his attackers had moved on; there was no profit in chasing him, other than to get him out of their territory.   They’d seen him fall so he was no longer an issue.   He cast around, for new finger and toe holds.   He still had to climb back up at least twenty feet.   His machete had gone, with the cliff edge, but he still had the knife sheathed at his hip.   The rock was crumbly, not ideal for climbing, but he was able to make steady progress by cutting into the face with his blade.   Just below the overhanging lip he realised that, because of the unstable nature of the stuff, it wouldn’t bear his weight; another collapse and a fatal fall would be a certainty.  Possibly he could dig in and tunnel up?   He worked on it for close to an hour then, without warning, the face collapsed inwards.  

“Aaah!”   He yelled, falling into a dark oblivion…

                                           .-…-.

“Coffee and muffins, on the table Pete, come and get it!”  Suzie yelled.

“Shit shit shit!”

“What’s up Hon?”

“Stupid laptop won’t boot up.   It just says ‘FATAL ERROR - hardware fault’ - OK!   It’s not bloody OK!   What am I gonna do.”

“Use the machine in the study,” she suggested.

He ate hurriedly gingerly sipping cool coffee as he took the floppy disks into the study.  There was silence for several minutes…

“Shit!”   Two minutes of silence followed his outburst.   “Shit – Dung in a bucket!”  The angry curses continued, like a scratched CD, until Suzie went to investigate.

“What’s happened?”

“The backups are BLANK!” he moaned.

“Hard copy?”

His anguished blank stare spoke volumes.

“Men!”  She said under her breath; shaking her head as she returned to her breakfast.  

.-…-.

Jake hit water, sinking into the deep cold, fast running underground stream; it saved his life.   He was chilled to the marrow and almost out of air when finally he surfaced.   There was light above and as his eyes became accustomed he realised he was in the middle of a river.  

But, at last he’d escaped.   No more Pete throwing him into impossible situations, sending him on crazy missions, at last he could live a normal life.   He’d always fancied himself as a dealer on the Hon Kong, London or New York Stock Exchange; now there’s excitement, he thought.