by Steve Hester
CHAPTER 16
Rob clambered through the wet leaves and out onto a road. He'd tried to double back on himself when he had seen the flashes of light as the first police cars had arrived through the trees. He'd thought about stopping there and then and giving himself up but the fear of what would happen when he did seemed to be controlling him more than logic so he kept on going.
He remembered his phone and pulled it out with the intention of calling his parents but saw it was smashed beyond repair. He threw it into a nearby hedge and hobbled over to a pay phone a hundred yards away up the road. He fumbled in his pocket and took out a few coins but when he lifted the receiver there was no dial tone. He clicked the hook a few times but silence just filled the line. He slammed it back.
He stood hunched over the dead phone for a few minutes, trying to gather his thoughts as rain pitter-patted on the roof of the booth. What had started as a fun night had rapidly gotten worse and worse. The image of Jason floated back into his mind like a ghost and he started to cry. Please let him be ok, he thought. Please..!
He wiped his eyes and stared out of the windows of the booth at the rain coming down. It was then that he noticed how dark it was. He looked up and down the street but it was pitch black; the streetlights, the house lights, everything was out. There was a row of shops further down and at this distance he could just make out the owner of the local Chinese chip shop standing in the street with her umbrella looking at the front of her business.
A bright light suddenly appeared behind him and Rob ducked down against the back of the booth. It offered no hiding place thanks to the big plastic windows but he didn't have much of an option. If he moved out, he'd be noticed even more with the door opening.
It wasn't the police. The car cruised past him with its headlights on full beam and disappeared around the bend in the road ahead. Rob let out the breath he'd been holding for the last few seconds and then left the booth after checking the coast was clear.
He'd taken a few steps before he realised that his ankle wasn't hurting him anymore. He had limped and almost had to drag himself up the hill from the crash but now it was fine. He tested his weight on it properly. There were no twinges or even a dull ache.
At this stage though, he really didn’t care! As far as Rob was concerned it was the first piece of good luck that had happened to him all evening. It wouldn't take him long to get home at this point. He ran across the road and scuttled along the back streets, passing the rows of dark terraced houses until he came to the main road.
It was pretty quiet by this time of night and what little traffic on it was still moving but slowly thanks to the lack of traffic lights. The remaining staff member from the local Co-Op supermarket was closing the shutters while the regulars of the White Lion pub were starting to stream out home after being convinced by the landlord that there wouldn't be any more beer thanks to the power cut.
Rob jogged across the road and paused in front of the Co-Op. He was wet, tired and just wanted to run away as far from here as possible but then he caught sight of his reflection in its windows. Lit up by the headlights of a passing car, he could see where the rain had helped to wash the blood away from the cut on his forehead. What he couldn't see was the cut.
He lifted a hand and started to probe where the deep gash had been not that long before. It had vanished, healed in the short time since the crash, and just like his ankle there was no pain.
One of the staff locked the door behind him and caught sight of Rob.
“We're closed now mate.” He said.
Rob spun round at the sound of his voice and the man caught the look on his face.
“You alright?”
“I'm really not sure...” said Rob before he turned and walked away.
He stopped in the car park behind the building and leant against the wall. His fingers traced where a gaping wound should be and he started to feel light headed as his mind started to wander back to those final moments in the car.
He should be dead, end of story. He should be a slowly charring corpse but he wasn’t. What happened back there? He'd felt something like a wave flow out from him and the next he knew he was flying through the air. And what the hell had happened to the car in the first place?
Had someone spiked his drink? It was possible, it happened all the time. Most people thought only women got spiked but he'd seen it happen to one of his male friends on a night out, either accidentally or on purpose thanks to someone with a sick sense of humour. He didn't feel dizzy or tired and was pretty sure there had been no blackouts. He wasn't sick either, well, not chemically sick anyway. There was still a large amount of adrenalin floating round his body that was giving him the shakes. His heart seemed to have settled down though and there were no spots in his vision or odd noises. He felt like he'd just stepped off a treadmill after a long session in the gym.
He still could have been on the wrong end of a pill though. The thought worried him more than the alternative. If he'd been hallucinating the whole thing then that would mean he'd driven like a crazy man and hit Jason...
Jason. The rain had stopped but a few drips still fell here and there. He snapped out of thinking about his friend and realised he was wet through; wet and covered in mud from his climb out of the park. His clothes were torn, his t-shirt was a write off and he suddenly felt cold. His body had been working like crazy over the last forty-five minutes or so and now he'd stopped the night time chill was starting to do its work.
Home, that was all that mattered. Keep focused. Get home, wait for mum and dad and then get help from somewhere to straighten out this nightmare his life had twisted into. It wouldn't be long from here he thought and headed off towards the playing fields that lay behind the small estate ahead of him.
It was muddy but the weekend footballers hadn't churned it up yet so there was still a little solidity underfoot. The moon had started to peek out from behind the clouds, lighting up the wide expanse of blackness slightly. He was able to make out the woodchip path that ran along one of the four football pitches on the fields and followed it past a row of lock up garages by a small gravel covered car park.
The yellow light that marked one of the entrances to the park wasn't working, just like the rest. Rob realised that he missed it. It had always been a comfort to him walking home before he'd learned to drive, knowing that the darkness was behind him and the warm safety of home lay ahead.
A few streets passed him by until he turned onto his road. Even in pitch blackness the outline of his house was a welcome sight and he sped up a little, jogging onto his front path.
Cassy was stood up on an armchair in the front room, barking like crazy. He fumbled in his pockets to find his keys.
A bright light burst behind him.
“Robert Stokes?”
“Y-yes?” He stammered.
Rob lifted his hand to shield his eyes as two figures emerged from the light and marched over to him. One grabbed his arm and spun him round, slamming him up against the front door. He could feel cold steel wrap round his wrist then a male face was suddenly inches away from his own.
“You're nicked mate!” said Jack Mirran.