With everything I had, I strained once more against my paralyzed muscles. I felt the fingers on my left hand flicker. A wave of hope replaced the fear.
“ Wait!” I heard one of them hiss. My heart spasmed. We shuddered to a stop and warm set of fingers felt for something in my neck.
“ God, he isn't out properly! Quick, give it to me!”
There was a rustling sound followed by a sharp sting on the back of my hand. A cool sensation washed all the way up my arm. The last thing I remembered was the sharp taste of metal in the back of my mouth, before the darkness rushed in and took me.
5
My fingers stretched out, reaching for the pillow, but I couldn't find it. Instead I felt something soft and damp. I tried to lift my head up, but it was filled with lead. It pounded relentlessly.
Then the rest of me began to follow suit, starting with a low ache and escalating into an intense throbbing. I tried to open my eyes, but they were slow and unresponsive. The strange material was all around me. It rubbed gently against my stomach, face, arms and feet. After an age my sluggish eyes rolled open and through my blurry vision I saw that I was not in bed at all. I was face down in grass.
Using all of my strength I used my jelly arms to drag my aching body upright. After three tries, I was able to stand up onto spaghetti legs.
Only the briefest glance made it clear that I’d woken up in Providence Park.
My head thrummed and I clasped at it, rubbing furiously in a desperate attempt to blot out the pain. Eventually it subsided enough for me to focus.
The sky was a blend of orange and grey. The rising sun locked in battle with the winter clouds. An icy breeze traced the contours of my skin. The park was empty apart from a pair of joggers on the far side, dressed in matching blue tracksuits.
How the hell did I get here?
I tried to remember what happened the night before, but my brain wouldn't play ball. It only made my headache worse. I stopped trying to think too much. Instead I concluded I must have sleepwalked. It was the only possible explanation for my makeshift bed. Looking down at my trembling body, the theory faltered. I was wearing someone else’s clothes. A simple pair of grey jogging bottoms and white vest, but definitely not mine. All I cared about now was getting home. I staggered forward, only managing a few steps before collapsing.
Gritting my teeth, I stood up again. I wobbled like a drunk on my bare feet, taking baby steps so that I could remain upright. The aching worsened, aggravated by my stubborn movements.
I felt broken. Every part of me smashed beyond repair. But I carried on, step by step, until after an eternity, I’d made it through the gated exit and onto the pavement which followed the main road through town. I noticed a phone box across the road. It stood proud, offering it's salvation to those who could reach its graffitied glass doors.
I dug for change in the jogging bottoms. No luck. Reverse the charges, managed to squeeze through the dagger stabs in my brain. My head lolled from side to side as I vaguely checked for traffic. Meanwhile the throbbing in my body grew into a roaring crescendo of agony. With each boom in my temples, bright flashes of yellow burst into my eyesight. It felt like I could pass out at any moment. So focusing my squinting eyes on the telephone box, I stumbled into the road, arms outstretched like a toddler reaching for its mother.
Straight into the path of a speeding car.
I heard the sound of tyres locking, mixed with a bloodcurdling scream which sliced through my ears like a blade. My head turned in time to see a silver hatchback trying to veer around me just a little too late. Its back end skidded out and swung at me like a sledgehammer. There was no time to move. I closed my eyes and waited for the impact.
The morning calm was pierced by the inhuman smash and screech of twisting metal, followed by the tinkle of thousands of cubes of glass pattering onto the road like hailstones. Then the angry hiss of a dying engine. The kind of sounds you only hear when something very bad has just happened. All I could feel was something cold wrapped around my lower body.
Am I dead? I wondered, eyes still squeezed shut. If I was, this wasn’t how I had expected it to be. There were no snapshots of my life, no white light to enter into.
My skin goose bumped from the frosty embrace of the unknown object. Whatever it was, it was holding on for dear life. I inched my eyelids apart. What I saw defied all logic.
The car was a steaming wreck, wrapped around my body.
At the impact point just behind the driver's door, it had caved around me, into a rough V shape. Steam poured in dark clouds from the exposed engine. The rear wheels had buckled and folded in on themselves, causing the car to sink down at the back. All the windows were smashed from the force of the impact.
It was the sort of result you would expect from a head on collision with a solid wall, not a seventeen year old kid. I looked down at my body, fearing the worst.
I didn’t have a scratch on me.
Straining, I prised myself free of the car’s steely grip. The metal groaned in protest.
I turned and stared at the wreckage, my mouth a wide O. The look was mirrored by the young, fair haired woman who crawled across the driver’s seat and flopped out of the passenger side. She staggered around and slumped against the twisted chassis next to me.
“Oh my god!’ she breathed. “Are-are you okay?” She glanced at me and then back at her destroyed vehicle. “How… how did you…how are you…? I was going fast. Oh no…maybe too fast… I didn't see you in time, you…”
Her words dissolved into a hysterical panic attack and she slid down onto the ground, sinking her head into her knees. I watched her frame expand and shrink again and again as she hyperventilated.
As I gazed around in a shock, a crowd gathered. People on their way to work stopped and drivers, not content with rubber necking, pulled over their cars and got out.
I saw one man pull out a phone from his pocket and make a call, presumably 999.
Everyone had the same look on their face, a combination of confusion and disbelief. They knew that I should be lying in a crumpled heap twenty feet away.
They knew I should be dead.
All I knew for certain was that I didn't want to be here.
I took a step forward, my legs feeling much more solid than they had a minute ago. The girl looked up at me, realising my intentions.
“N-n…” she wheezed and flailed out an arm to stop me. I ignored her and stumbled away from the crash in the direction of home. “Hey son, come sit down,” suggested an overweight man in jogging bottoms. “You might be hurt,” said an elderly lady with purple rinse hair. They were all closing in on me, offering their own opinions of post collision aftercare.
I saw the man with the phone weave towards me, his hand stretched out in my direction. He signalled for me to stop, all the while talking in rushed bursts to the person on the other end.
I turned and ran.
I ran as fast and as hard as I could, snaking through the gathering crowd. They called out and made weak efforts to stop me as I darted past. The strangest thing was, even though I felt confused, all of my aches had gone and my head felt crystal clear.
My bare feet slapped hard against the pavement and I pushed myself faster. All I could think about was escaping the confusion and getting home. The shop fronts whipped past, changing to houses and rows of bushes as the area became more residential. I pushed harder and the scenery became lines, blurs of colours that ran parallel to me, shifting in size and shape. Then I skidded to a stop as I recognised where I was. For the second time my mouth dropped open.
I was home.
I stared, refusing to believe my own eyes. There was no way that I could have arrived so fast. It took me
