Drive

by Mark West

  Table of Contents

  Drive

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  First Published in 2014 by

  Pendragon Press

  Po Box 12 , Maesteg, Mid Glamorgan

  South Wales, CF34 0XG, UK

  Text and Cover Design Copyright © 2014 by Mark West

  Ebook created by Graeme Reynolds of Horrific Tales Publishing

  (Front cover photograph 'Freeway'

  Copyright © 2010 by Glenn Tremblett

  used under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0) (image flipped))

  All Rights Reserved, in Accordance with the

  Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988

  No part of this publication shall be reproduced in any form without the express written consent of the publisher.

  Mark West asserts his moral right to be identified as the owner of this work.

  ISBN 978 1 906864 40 8

  Typeset by Christopher Teague

  Printed and Bound in Wales by

  MWL, Pontypool

  www.pendragonpress.net

  For

  Alison & Dude,

  as always

  Thanks to

  Alison & Matthew, for their endless patience and for making my life better in every way; Mum & Dad; Sarah, Chris, Lucy & Milly; Pauline Weston; Nick Duncan; Mick Curtis, Sarah Fowler (Kiddo!), Kim Fuhrmann, Gary Greenwood, David Roberts (ericgnome!) and Gregg Winkler, great pre-readers all; Ian Alexander Martin, for great editorial input; Sue Moorcroft; Chris Teague for taking the chance; gcw for the tune; the FCon (and WFC) gang and my friends at the Northampton SF Writers Group.

  Download the EP by Gary Cole-Wilkin

  (music inspired by the book) here: https://gcwmusic.bandcamp.com/album/drive

  One

  David Moore finally managed to get away from the drunk in the lounge and weaved his way through the other party-goers to the hall. There seemed to be people everywhere and he didn't recognise any of them. He looked towards the kitchen and saw Karen, one of the girls from his course and made his way towards her.

  David wasn't a big fan of parties and didn't enjoy being away from home, so tonight was about as far away from a pleasant evening as he thought it was possible to get.

  "Hey, David," said Karen. She was holding a glass of wine and a bottle of Magners and blinked slowly as she tried to focus on him. "How ya doing?"

  "Good thanks, you?"

  "Not bad. Too many people here though."

  "I didn't realise it was a full-scale party."

  "Nor me. I brought a friend and I can't find her."

  The company he worked for had recently been swallowed up by an American concern and as the finance manager, he'd been sent on a course to understand the machinations of the Sarbannes-Oxley act. Unfortunately, that meant attending Gaffney Tech and staying at the Gaffney Halls Hotel for a week.

  "She must be around here somewhere, nice girl."

  "Look, Karen, I think I'm going to get off."

  "Wha? Why?" The confusion was obvious in her eyes. "Aren't you having fun?"

  He hadn't wanted to come in the first place, but he'd been in the refectory with the rest of his course-mates, trying to eat the lousy lasagne and it had seemed like a good idea at the time. There were twelve people on the course, over half of whom lived in Gaffney and one had decided to throw his house open. Since David had been in Gaffney for three days, seen all of the films he wanted to at the local Odeon and couldn't get anything other than a handful of stations on the TV in his room, he thought it might be a way to get out. He could ring Louisa before he left, have a chat with her and then go to the party, try and enjoy himself for a while and kill another night.

  "Well," he said carefully, "I don't really know anyone here."

  "You know me."

  He smiled. "Yes, but you're obviously going to meet up with someone."

  "Wow," she said slowly, "that's cool. How did you know that?"

  "You're holding two drinks."

  "Yes! I am!" She giggled. "You could try and find Nat for me."

  "Who's that?"

  "My friend, I told you about her. I can't find her and we came by taxi and I don't want her to walk home."

  "What does she look like?"

  "You know," she said, gesturing over his shoulder, "like her." David turned, to see a tall woman with dark hair look at him quizzically and smile. "Take care of her, won't you?" And with that, Karen smiled and stepped around him.

  "I'll speak to her," he said.

  "You're a good man, David, you really are."

  * * *

  The night was slowly drawing to a close, though most revellers seemed to believe there was more alcohol to be drunk and more moves to be thrown on the dance floors.

  The doorman at The Hat Rack watched a group of young women congregate in the doorway to his club. They were loud and giggly and trying to pull their coats on without putting down their handbags. He smiled - they were no trouble and he liked that.

  Once they'd got their coats on, he opened the door. Two or three of them patted his shoulder, one of them offered a kiss and he smiled and nodded and said "good night" to all of them.

  Outside, it was getting colder, the traffic on the road and pavement slackening. The doorman watched the women walk to the kerb, where a couple of them held their hands up attempting to stop a taxi.

  He heard the heavy, low thud of hardcore bass before he saw the Audi cruising towards him. It had been polished to such a degree that the red paintwork shimmered with the reflections of streetlights and Christmas displays. Whoever that car belonged to, the doorman decided, had too much time on his hands.

  As the Audi drew closer to the women, the passenger window wound down and the doorman half expected a stream of either abuse or chat-up lines, competing against the incredible volume of the music the stereo system was pumping out.

  The women turned too, as an arm extended out of the passenger window, holding a bottle of water. As the car drew level with the woman, whatever was in the bottle was thrown over them. A couple moved quickly of the way, but one of them was unfortunate enough to get covered in the liquid.

  "What is it?" asked one, "what is it?"

  "Water?"

  "No," said another and then the woman who'd been soaked started to scream.

  The Doorman stepped onto the pavement, not quite sure of what was going on or what he could do to help the situation. He watched as the Audi drove off, leaving the soaked woman screaming "it's piss, it's piss" as she knelt on the ground.

  * * *

  "Are you Nat?"

  She looked at him, the vaguest hint of a smile at her lips. "Who wants to know?"

  He frowned - he hadn't expected that line. "Erm, me, I was speaking to Karen…"

  "Ah, then yes, I'm Nat. She's hooked up with someone, hasn't she?"

  David smiled. "She was carrying two drinks just now. She asked me to come and find you and tell you not to walk home."

  "Shit, we shared a taxi. Oh, don't you just love it when this happens?"

  "I don't know, I don't think it's happened to me since I was a teenager."

  Nat laughed, lightly and it was a lovely sound. If the situation were different, David could imagine he'd be interested in this woman - she had a very pretty face, with high cheekbones and green eyes. She was wearing a short dress with a low, square-cut neckline and he could see the trimming on the edges of her bra cups. He wasn't in the habit of paying this much attention to strange women, but he found it oddly alluring, as if he was indeed a teenager again.

  "Karen doesn't throw herself around, but she's a dedicated singleton this year and I think she's making up f
or lost time."

  David nodded theatrically. "I see."

  "So how do you know her?"

  "We're on a course. In fact, apart from my course-mates, I've never seen anyone else here before."

  "Me included."

  "You included. But that's okay, it's nice talking to you."

  She smiled. "Thank you." She took a sip of her wine. "You didn't say what your name was."

  "David, David Moore."

  Nat held out her hand and he shook it. "Pleased to meet you," she said, "Natasha Turner."

  * * *

  Sam hated pulling the late shift. He wasn't that keen on delivering pizza in the first place, but had to otherwise his stay at Gaffney Tech would be cut short due to a serious lack of funds.

  The problem with delivery after eleven meant that, invariably, everyone he came into contact with was pissed. He'd turn up at people's houses and, if they even remembered ordering a pizza, they'd try to convince him they'd paid online or had a deal with the shop. As he was chugging through Gaffney on his stupid little company moped, pedestrians would lurch out at him or try to rip open the carrier box behind him.

  The gaudy Christmas lights did little to cheer him up -

  the only thing that did was the thought of Lise back at his room and a couple of cans of brew.

  There was no traffic as he turned out of Montagu Street onto Rockingham Road. He leaned into the handlebars and opened up the throttle but the lights changed at the crossing a couple of hundred yards up. He slowed, watching for pizza snatchers and stopped in the centre of his lane. He revved the pitiful engine a couple of times to make himself feel a bit better.

  A car pulled up behind him and the loud bassline coming out of it seemed to vibrate in his chest. He glanced around quickly and saw two skinheads in the front seat of an Audi. The one in the passenger seat, his cheeks scarred by acne, stuck up his finger and laughed. Sam turned quickly, he didn't want to piss anyone off.

  Two drunks finally managed to finish crossing the road and Sam took off as soon as the amber light flashed. He pulled over to the kerb and kept his head down. The Audi didn't appear to move - he couldn't hear much with his helmet on anyway, but the music was getting quieter.

  He risked another glance and the car was still at the lights.

  Sam breathed a sigh of relief and turned into Angel Street. He was only a couple of roads from the pizza place now and he intended to get in, have a fag and take a break.

  Angel Street was empty. The terraced houses along the right hand side were all dark and nothing moved in the old, ruined school to his left. He leaned forward again, opening up the throttle and then heard and felt the bassline.

  He glanced in his mirror to see the Audi was right behind him, the skinhead with acne mouthing obscenities at him.

  What the hell was going on?

  He thought about doing a U-turn and heading back to Rockingham Road, where there were at least people - however drunk they might be - if something kicked off. He didn't have time though, because the Audi grazed his mudguard.

  It felt like he'd ridden over the kerb and he fought to keep his balance. There was another nudge and Sam didn't know how to react, except that if he braked, he was sure he'd be run over.

  He looked around. The driver was grinning. There was another person in the backseat, sitting forward, laughing with the passenger like this was the funniest thing they'd ever seen.

  With the third nudge the Audi didn't back off - instead, it pushed forward. The bumper and mudguard groaned against each other and Sam closed his eyes. The bumper caught the bike tyre and stopped it dead.

  The moped veered to the left and then, violently, to the right and Sam was flung off. He landed on the bonnet and rolled off onto the road.

  The Audi swerved to the right, pushing the moped out of the way and against the kerb in a shower of sparks. Sam pushed himself back to the gutter, trying to catch his breath. The Audi stopped, backed up slightly, then stopped again. Sam watched the lights, knowing that if it came straight backwards at speed, it'd hit him in seconds. The brake lights flickered and, for one awful moment that made his bladder let go, the reversing lights came on. Then they too went off and the Audi drove to the end of Angel Street, turned right and disappeared from sight.

  * * *

  "So you're not from around here then?"

  "No," said David, "I live near Bristol. I've never been up to this neck of the woods before. Are you local?"

  "Chaton originally, just over the way, but I've been in Gaffney for a few years now."

  They was a lull in the conversation and David looked around the hallway.

  "So are you married?"

  "I am," he said and held his left hand up, then immediately felt stupid for doing so, "to Louisa. Ten years now."

  "Very nice. I'm freshly divorced."

  "Sorry to hear that."

  "Oh don't be, it wasn't any more painful than anyone else's situation. We worked too much, didn't pay each other enough attention, the same old same old. But we're still friends, I got out with my mates but at home, it's not all that different. We didn't see much of each other before, so it's not like there's a big leap."

  * * *

  Jennifer Russell perched herself on the window frame of Pizza Plus, put her elbows on her knees and pressed her hands against her temples. She felt awful - why hadn't she stuck with the blue WKD's?

  Now she felt like death warmed up. It was almost one in the morning and this stupid sequinned vest top which looked so good in the New Look window was only about as thick as tissue paper and no use whatsoever in keeping out the chill and she was tired, but Carla wanted to grab a kebab and you didn't deny Carla that kind of thing.

  Jennifer couldn't face going into the shop. There was hardly anyone else around, but she knew that the combined smell of aftershave, perfume, kebab meat, garlic mayonnaise and sweat would have her heaving up everything she'd imbibed over the past six hours.

  She heard a pounding bassline and looked up slowly. An Audi was coming in her direction from the town centre and as it got closer, the passenger window wound down.

  The car stopped at the kerb in front of her and the passenger leaned out and shouted something that she couldn't hear over the sound of the stereo.

  "Can't hear you," she muttered and waved her hand dismissively at him.

  The passenger shouted again and this time she made out the word 'friend'. She frowned at him. "Who are you?"

  The man gestured for her to come over and she looked around gingerly, to make sure he wasn't really talking to anyone else, but she was the only person sitting on the shop window. "Why?"

  The man shouted again but all she caught was 'important'. Reluctantly - and carefully - she got up and tottered over to the kerb. As she got closer, she looked at all three occupants of the car but couldn't place any of them.

  She stopped a pace away from the car, the bass thudding in her feet, chest and head. "What's up?"

  The passenger reached for her. She was far enough away that his fingers only brushed the fabric against her belly and she lurched back, aware that she was in trouble. The passenger swore, said something to his friends and started to open his door.

  "Help!" she cried, suddenly realising she was alone out here, "help!"

  The passenger looked at the driver and then back over her shoulders. Jennifer glanced behind her and saw a couple of blokes coming out of the pizza place, to see what was happening. She looked at the car and took an unsteady step away from it.

  "Your loss," shouted the passenger and he spat at her.

  Jennifer took another step back, her heel slid into a crack between slabs and she fell heavily.

  "You alright, love?" asked a man, who knelt beside her.

  Jennifer watched the car speed away and wiped some of the spit from her leg. "Yes," she said, surprised at how shaky her voice sounded, "I think so."

  * * *

  David was enjoying talking with Nat, but the party guests were getting drunker and
louder. He looked at his watch and saw it was almost one - time to go (and an hour after he'd said the same to Karen before). The course started at nine and he had enough trouble keeping his eyes open by the end of the lecture anyway.

  "Listen," he said, "it's been great talking to you Nat." And it had been - in less than an hour, they'd talked music and films and books and places around the world they'd been, all very friendly and all very comfortable. "But I have to go, I've got a long boring day ahead of me tomorrow."

  "That's fine," said Nat and looked at her own watch, "I was about ready to leave when you came over anyway."

  "You should have said, we could have gone then." That made them both laugh. "Did you want me to give you a lift? It's no trouble."

  "If you're sure?"

  "Of course. So long as you tell me how to get back to the hotel from your place, that is."

  "David," she said and patted his arm gently, "that's the least I could do."

  Two

  Leaving Nat in search of her coat, David tried to find Karen, to tell her what was happening, but she wasn't in the lounge, dining room or kitchen.

  "Hey," said Nat, her coat draped over her arm.

  "I can't find Karen."

  "No worries, I'll text her."

  He took a last look around the lounge. "Great, let's go then."

  * * *

  The temperature difference, between the packed house and deserted street, was extreme and Nat pulled her coat on quickly.

  "It's a chilly one," she said.

  "Yes, come on, my car's just up here."

  David pulled open the gate, let Nat through and closed it behind her. This house was the only one in the street that was lit but he couldn't hear any music. He pointed to his Vectra and they walked across the road in silence.

  "Key fob's broken," he said and unlocked the car manually at his door, waited for her to get in and then got in himself.

  "Before the divorce," said Nat, "I had a little Clio and it was great but the central locking was always going on it. Sometimes I couldn't get out, sometimes the doors would unlock as I drove along, it was all over the place. The first thing I did, after finding the flat and getting sorted out, was change the car."