by Carla Blake
In the back Rachel stared out of the side window on her right and glared at Wendy, who, white faced, stared back at her. Then she caught sight of Simon, who gripping his steering wheel, turned his head to smile at her and then turned the wheel hard left, slamming yet again into the side of Polly’s car and transforming the window next to Rachel into a spider web of cracks.
Rachel shrieked and Polly cursed. “Wanker!” She yelled, automatically steering herself out of harm’s way. “ Look what he’s done to my bloody car! Rachel! You okay?”
Rachel’s phone rang again. She snatched it up.
“He wants to know if we’ve had enough?” She shouted, moving away from the shattered window. “I can hear him laughing.”
“Bastard!” Kate shouted back. “Tell him to go to hell.”
“Tell him to stop hitting my car!” Polly added furiously.
Rachel repeated the message. “He says he’ll stop when we do.”
“Fuck that!”
Simon hit them again. Slewing Polly’s car to the left and straight into a clump of bright, green ferns that disappeared under the wheels before springing back out the other side.
“Bastard!” She yelled and swung the car right, inadvertently bumping over the remains of an old and rotted wooden fence that hammered the underside before splintering into a thousand little pieces.
Gripping the edge of her seat, Rachel stared out of the back window.
Simon stared back at her. Then lifting his right hand from the steering wheel, he pointed straight at her and mouthed, ‘ you’re dead!’
Rachel looked away. He doesn’t care anymore, she shuddered, feeling cold water rinse through her veins. He doesn’t care if he wrecks his car or ours, he doesn’t care if he hurts us, I doubt if he even cares if he kills us, just as long as he doesn’t lose, because that’s the one thing he’d never be able to bear, loosing. And even if he does end up killing us and possibly hurting himself in the process, I still don’t think he’ll mind, cos it would be the perfect ending for him. I would be dead, they’re be no one left to point the finger of blame and he would still get to play the hero. And he’d still go to the police. Playing the concerned citizen who just happened to be passing when he saw our car careering out of control and crashing into a tree. And yes officer, he’d say, I know I was driving a Ferrari and it’s a dreadful shame what happened to it, but what else could I do? I was just so desperate to reach them that I skidded on the grass, lost control and ended up hitting a tree myself. But hey, it’s only a car. I can always get myself another.
Polly was running out of clearing. The stretch of rough scrubland that until now, they’d been uncomfortably belting along, rapidly running out, as the trees, big before, now loomed enormous in front of them. She also wasn’t sure, despite what Rachel had told her, whether her car would actually get through.
Rachel gripped her shoulder.
“I know.” Polly said, instantly understanding. “But I have an idea. I need you to hang on. And I mean really hang on, okay?”
They hung on, and after taking a last look at their pinched and frightened faces, Polly shoved her foot down on the accelerator and shot the little car forward.
The engine whined and as they tore over the rutted dirt, bouncing and swearing and in Rachel’s case crying out in pain, a second hubcap worked it’s way loose and whistled across the grass.
Rachel barely saw it go as slewing from left to right, the seat belt cutting across her shoulders and breasts, she bit back the tears and wished she could take if off. At the moment though, it was the only thing keeping her in her seat and so doing her best not to cry out in agony as Polly’s car bounced and jolted and the glass from the smashed window suddenly lost what little grip it had and fell into the rear of the car, some of it landing in the foot well but most of it sliding across the seat to end up in a heap against her thigh, she held on.
Meanwhile, in the front passenger seat Kate was hanging on for dear life and with both feet braced against the floor, she prayed that Polly knew what she was doing and that when they hit something, if was no longer an option, Polly’s little car wouldn’t immediately crumple into a concertina and mash up her legs.
Polly simply drove. Her eyes fixed on the trees ahead of them. Her foot down hard on the pedal whilst her mind ticked over at similar speed, trying to calculate distance and space and the damage the Ferrari was doing each time it came up alongside her and slammed into the side of them.
Not that she was actually hearing it anymore. The sound of metal screeching upon metal becoming muted as she struggled to retain control of the car while Simon steered into them again and again and bits of bodywork flew off into the undergrowth.
Only once the wing mirror went flying did she dare to look out of the side window and then she saw Wendy, rapping at her own window. Her skin a ghostly pale and her mouth working frantically as she shouted out something that none of them could hear and which Simon was taking no notice of.
Holy shit! Polly thought, watching Wendy suddenly burst into tears. She’s really fucking scared. Well, join the club honey.
From beside her, Kate suddenly grabbed her arm. “The trees!” She yelled into her ear. “Heads UP Polly! The trees!”
“I know!” Polly yelled back. “Hang on!”
And she slammed on the brakes.
Their seat belts saved them. The fabric straps digging roughly into their shoulders, breasts and across their stomachs as Polly practically stood on the brakes and the nose of her car dipped sharply into the wet grass. The bumper thumping into solid ground as the rear wheels lifted into the air, spinning wildly for a second before crunching down again, mangling the exhaust pipe and instantly deploying the air bag on Polly’s side.
They screamed. All three of them. The sound of their voices almost drowned beneath the screech of tyres as the rear of Polly’s car slewed wildly across the wet grass and Simon’s red Ferrari shot past them. Engine growling, horn blaring.
The brake lights coming on too late to save it from smashing into the trees.
Afterwards, Rachel was never quite sure if she saw the impact or not, but she certainly heard it.
The crunching, twisting, wrenching sound of metal hitting solid wood, as the Ferrari roared past them and slammed into the trees.
Then Polly’s voice, muffled behind the air bag, yelling at her and Kate to ‘hang on!’ whilst their own car slid recklessly across the uneven ground and came to a sudden, jolting halt when a rear tyre blew and they tilted sharply to the left.
Rachel shrieked and Kate, sounding frightened and panicked, yelled in alarm. Awkwardly turning in her seat to take Rachel’s hand and ask if she was okay? If anything was broken? If she would please stop staring and answer her?
But Rachel couldn’t. Leaning heavily to the side, all she could look at was the remains of the Ferrari.
Mangled and broken beyond repair. The bonnet all but mashed into the front seats. The shiny, red paintwork splattered with mud and wet grass and broken branches. A single front wheel cantered at an impossible angle. Blood. Blood everywhere. Coating what was left of the Ferrari’s windscreen in a quantity to vast to have come from a single, human body.
And smoke, thick and grey. Rising from the shattered engine and partially obscuring her view as the driver’s side door slowly opened.
And Simon’s lifeless arm fell out.
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