Edward panted. His aspirator steamed up momentarily. The fog dissipated and he legged it to the assembly hall, where he assumed hell had already broken loose.
For I am the poacher, and this is where I come to hunt down my prey.
By the time the staccato of gunfire had finished echoing; and once the explosions had finished and gas clouds had thinned out; and after the birds from miles around had taken flight in search of refuge, Edward had returned to his car. Having concluded his engagement at the school, he left in his wake hordes of wounded children and adults emerging onto the outlying fields, shell-shocked and utterly powerless. Billowing columns of tar-coloured fumes emanated from the hall and rose for hundreds of feet to darken an already cloudy morning sky. Great tongues of flame stalked the fixtures and fittings in the hall, creating a pyre to the dead and dying within.
XXXII
Nine o’ clock on the dot, and Edward sped along the dual carriageway on edge. An incessant wall of sirens and blue lights hurtled past to bring traffic to a standstill. His car had sustained substantial damage from its impact with the policeman. None of the emergency vehicles passing by in the opposite direction took any notice; their attention was apparently on far more pressing matters. He’d punched out all remaining glass from the window-frame, making it appear as if he'd simply wound the window fully down. Even so, he still felt conspicuous. He needed to ditch and dash, post-haste.
He pulled over in a lay-by and wriggled out of his incriminating combat gear. A small, grubby catering van was stationed ahead of him and beyond that, two lorry drivers chatted and munched in front of their cabs. They didn’t seem to pay any attention to Edward’s mangled hatchback.
Tugging the gear stick into reverse, he allowed the car to roll backwards. He gracefully turned the steering wheel, forcing the car to head over the grassy verge and down an overgrown embankment. A touch of gas on the accelerator and his speed picked up. He was giddy with a heady mixture of delirium and fright.
The two drivers had been observing out of the corners of their eyes. They shouted, but this was futile. They trotted as fast as their stumpy legs could carry them. With a rumble and a crash the car fell down the side of the road, out of sight, stopping against a knotted patch of shrubbery.
“Call an ambulance. Quick, get on the phone to 999,” one of them yelled across at the puzzled owner of the catering van.
“There’s movement, someone’s getting out,” the second driver called out from the top of the slope.
Edward emerged from the car, the back of his head genuinely hurt – a throbbing cranial jarring. He staggered up the incline towards the men. It was steeper than he had given credit, and the discomfort in his head made him unsteady. Soreness aside, he knew he must reach them. They were joined by the buxom fifty-something woman from the food van. She stared, stupefied, while Edward struggled in the mud and grappled with dense pockets of weeds.
“Are you alright there?”
“Yes, I’m, I’m fine. But my car’s seen better days.” Edward knew he couldn’t leave his rucksack behind, and it required no shortage of strength to hump it up the embankment.
“Let me come down and take a look. I know a thing or two about cars,” one of the truckers offered.
“Are ya fooking daft, man?” the other driver lambasted. “How’re you going to mend that, it’s bloody damn well near totalled!”
The first trucker conceded he may be onto something, then turned to the catering lady.
“Did you get through on the phone, love?”
“I tried, I got through and they said they’re all busy dealing with a big emergency somewhere else and they won’t be able to come for least another hour. An hour! Would you believe it?”
By now, Edward had managed to get far enough up the embankment for the two men to reach down and pull him the rest of the way by his arms. He was unceremoniously catapulted onto the tarmac of the lay-by, helped to his feet and dusted down.
“Please can I get a lift into the edge of town? I can make my own way to A&E from the ring road.”
“Mate, listen I'd be happy to but my tachograph doesn’t lie and I need my break. Else my neck’s on the chopping block. Can you make it, Kev?”
“Sorry, no can do. I’m heading the other way, past Manston Moorbridge. I can call you a taxi if you want?”
Before Edward could respond, another motorist jogged over to them.
“You alright fella? Did I see that right, your car reversed down the slope?”
“I’m still shaken up, I gotta admit,” Edward replied hastily. In reality, he felt euphoric. “I was – I mean, I am – supposed to be heading to an interview. I wanted a sandwich but I couldn’t find my wallet. Anyway, I only went and left the handbrake off and accidentally hit the gas pedal.”
More sirens pierced the chilly air. A series of fire engines and ambulances rushed along the road. A flurry of police cars flashed by as well.
“What is going on with all these cops and ambulances?” asked Kev, distracted from Edward’s plight.
“Something big, no doubt. My money’s on a nasty pile-up,” his trucker mate suggested. “It might be best to hunker down here for a while ‘til it’s cleared.”
“How big does it have to be to get so many emergency vehicles going there? As if they don't have enough to deal with, you come along and bin your car!” Kev added in jest.
The sirens faded and the drivers and catering owner continued to chat. A tinkle sound drew their attention to the ground beside Edward’s feet. A thumb-sized brass object glinted amongst the chipped asphalt. With lightning speed, Edward trampled over it with his boot and let out a soft chuckle.
“Better my dad didn’t know I’ve been nicking his cigar holder!” He kicked back hard enough to propel the item into the grass behind him.
Eyebrows were raised by the truckers. The catering woman pursed her lips in faux deference to Edward’s apparent social status. Less than two yards away, the third motorist nodded cautiously.
“I have some loose change if you need petrol money. Would you be able to drop me off near the hospital?” Edward asked of the car driver.
“Not a problem. I thought you weren’t able to find your wallet before crashing the car.”
The others listened in as Edward replied. “I felt around in my back pocket, you saw the cigar holder fall out. There’s about three or four quid if you need it.”
“Your dad’s cigar holder that you just kicked into the long grass back there. Just be thankful it wasn’t his car you destroyed, huh?”
“Absolutely, I’m still paying it off.” A short pause from Edward, negotiating the awkward conversation. “Shall we set off? I’m starting to feel a bit dehydrated and my head’s playing up now.”
The motorist agreed and they bade farewell to the lady and HGV drivers. The woman promised to keep an eye on the crash site and Edward gave his word that he would contact the police and recovery service after a check-up in A&E.
“I’m Nick,” Edward lied.
“Nice to meet you, although perhaps not under quite these circumstances,” the man said. “I’m Joshua.” He was dressed in a white shirt, top button undone and tie missing. Combined with his fancy saloon, it suggested to Edward a mid-life crisis that regularly afflicted gentlemen of his age group.
They stepped into the front seats of his car halfway down the lay-by. As Edward belted up, he saw out of the wing mirror the other witnesses examining a patch of turf, close to where he’d been standing not long ago. He noticed one of them bend down and pick something up. Edward’s face turned red and he croaked.
“Everything OK?” Joshua enquired.
“No. No, just please get out of here now. My head, argh.”
“Right-o.”
Joshua trundled along to the far end of the lay-by. In the side mirror, Edward could see Kev handing the object to his mate. The woman was on the phone again and Kev began to saunter in the direction of Joshua’s car. The saunter became a run, but the car was a
lready pulling out into the main carriageway. The man was very heavy set and this disadvantage made for a very uneven contest. The windows were wound up in the car, which was fortunate for Edward because Joshua may otherwise have heard the warnings being yelled by the panic-stricken trucker.
Edward didn’t know where to look. He wanted to see if Joshua had seen anything out of his rear-view mirror. He did not want to risk making eye contact, arousing suspicion.
“I actually feel a bit dizzy now,” he remarked. This wasn’t a complete distortion of the truth. He felt flustered and his head was throbbing.
“I can take you all the way to the hospital if you want me to, Nick.”
Edward appreciated this but was sure he had detected the undue stress on his alias. Maybe he was being ridiculous. Maybe…
“That’s a heavy bag. Got a lot of stuff in there?” Joshua asked.
“Yeah, it’s just a load of valuables and things I didn’t want to leave in my car.”
“You must have a lenient interviewer if you were going dressed like that.”
Edward laughed, perhaps a little too hard. “No, my shirt and jacket are in there as well. Creased to hell and back probably.”
“Aye,” Joshua concurred. “Your dad won’t be happy with you wrecking it, will he?”
“No, he’s going to be fuming that I smashed it up. It was his pride and joy.”
“You mean, your own pride and joy?”
“Uh yes, sorry, yeah I was distracted. I thought you were talking about the cigar holder. That has sentimental value and he’ll be pissed off that it’s gone.”
“You didn’t need to kick it away, surely?”
“I panicked and my mind isn’t in a good place right now. You understand where I’m coming from.”
“Of course man, of course.” Joshua’s voice tailed off as he checked the road signs. Straight ahead to the huge roundabout and the hospital would be a few minutes’ drive away.
He guided the car into the inside lane, following signs for ‘Town Centre’, ‘Multi-Storey Car Park’ and—
‘Police Station’. Edward’s lips twitched. “The hospital’s that way”, he gestured as the car deviated left.
“It is, but I wonder, Nick,” Joshua tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “There’s blood on your hands.” As if reading into Edward’s soul, he continued, “No, you literally have blood-stained fingers.”
Edward turned defensive. “What do you mean, I’ve had an accident! There’s no need to be a dick about it.”
“There don’t seem to be any open wounds on your hand, as far as I can make out. Your white vest has no blood on it, just some dirt stains. No blood on your face or neck, and no tears on your trousers.”
“What are you saying?”
They were heading along a busy shopping street. Joshua negotiated pedestrians, buses and reckless cyclists weaving here and there. Edward was negotiating a very tricky conversation.
“All I’m saying is we should report the full circumstances of the accident to the police. They will have access to a doctor who can take a look at your head. Saves you queuing at the casualty department that way.”
This offer failed to comfort Edward.
“I can phone the police,” he insisted. “Can you, look, just set me down here and I can get a scan or something for my head. It’s killing me at the minute.”
“Your dad won’t be best pleased, will he?” Joshua repeated.
“He’ll make me pay him back, it meant so much to him,” Edward said absent-mindedly.
“So whose is it then?”
“Wait, aren’t we talking about the cigar—”
“No, Neil we’re not. I am clearly talking about the car.”
“It’s Edward, not Neil.”
“I thought you said your name was Nick.”
“Why did you call me Neil?”
“To prove my suspicions. I also notice you smell of smoke, but – wait, listen to me!” More police vehicles sped past and Edward’s protest was soon extinguished.
When the sirens had again died down, Joshua continued. “Not tobacco smoke, gunpowder smoke. It’s not as if I’m in the dark on these things: I work in forensics and I’m heading to work at the station anyway.”
A malign indignation coursed through Edward’s veins. The car pulled up behind a double decker bus at a set of red lights. On the passenger’s side of the road was a delivery van unloading goods to a restaurant. On the driver’s side, vehicles and shoppers continued their day without passing notice at them. Another bus pulled up behind them.
“I reckon there's more to this story than you’re letting on,” Joshua chimed in. “Your answers to basic questions aren't convincing, and I don't entirely buy your excuse about a dangerous head injury.”
Realising that three sides of the car were obstructed from potential eyewitnesses, Edward tugged discretely on his seatbelt to allow more freedom to move. In the same instant as he was about to hurl himself towards Joshua, the lights changed and the bus in front set off once again. Foiled, this time.
“You’re not medically trained. You know nothing,” said Edward, scowling.
“We have an on-call doctor at the station. It’s the best place, especially since the hospital will be busy.”
A clinking sound from Joshua’s pocket alerted him to a message on his phone. At another set of lights, he could not resist the urge to take it out from his pocket and glance at the screen.
“Nine missed calls?” he remarked under his breath. “What?”
“You’ll be sorry when I collapse on the floor at the station,” Edward said. A note of melodrama in his voice betrayed a desire to escape the car, to run free from Joshua’s control.
“Most people in your position would be really grateful for any offers of help.”
They reached the police station, a little way down a side street. Joshua eased up on their approach to the outlying parking compound. A high, automatic gate topped with barbed wire skirted the station.
“Something big’s happened. Where’ve all the cars gone?” he asked himself whilst looking through the slats in the railings. No marked police vehicles were occupying the car park, except one scenes of crime van tucked away in the corner. “Even the dog units have left.”
Joshua wound his window open and plucked an ID card from his shirt pocket to swipe it. As the gates opened, Edward seized his second opportunity.
The first two strikes were simple jabs to the face, which succeeded in stunning Joshua. It gave Edward the chance to undo his seatbelt, before pushing the ignition button to grind the car to a halt. He contorted his body to straddle Joshua side-on, wrapping his arms around the driver’s neck and seat headrest. A painful pre-watershed lap dance, of sorts.
“Hey!” Joshua tried to shout out, yet Edward’s chokehold succeeded in preventing any more than a garbled slur. He lashed out and caught Edward with a swift knock to the throat. He tried prising Edward’s hands off his airway. Frantic desperation leeched into his cries for help.
Edward took hold of Joshua’s flailing arms by trapping them between his legs, preventing him from blasting the horn to gain attention. Edward’s weapons were in his rucksack, tucked under the passenger seat. He couldn’t risk letting go of his strangle-hold around his adversary’s neck. Although the road behind was empty, he knew an inadvertent witness may appear any moment.
Within ninety seconds, all movement ceased and Joshua slumped across the front seats of his car. Edward caught his breath but knew he had no time to lose. He stepped out of the car, slung his bag over one shoulder and hurried towards the nearest bus stop he could find.
◆◆◆
“Where to?” the bus driver asked once Edward boarded the next hospital-bound service.
“Hospital please.”
The driver looked at him over the top of his glasses like he was admonishing an insolent child.
“Your hand’s bleeding.”
“Yes. Hospital please.” Edward extracted his bus pas
s between his middle and index fingers, which were least tarnished with his blood. Taking his seat at the rear of the bus’s lower deck, he held his hands between his thighs, trapping his bulky backpack against his chest. Quizzical glances from fellow passengers were ignored. Outside the fogged-up window, a smattering of rain caught his attention. His mind was lost in another world…
An elderly lady in the row ahead distracted him. “You look like you’ve been in the wars today.”
Progress of the bus was hampered by a steady stream of ambulances, accompanied by a police escort. The other passengers were transfixed by the convoy of emergency crews converging on the hospital. The bus paused to allow them free rein of the bus lane.
“So do they by the looks of it,” he murmured.
“I’ve never seen so many ambulances in one place. Honestly, what’s wrong with the world these days.”
Edward did not respond. He planted his chin in one grubby hand and watched the world go by.
“Would you like a tissue for your hands?”
Edward flicked his fringe back. “No. But thanks.”
“Sorry love, I couldn’t hear that. Here you go, oops—”
The faintest smile rose up one side of his face. “I said don’t worry about it.”
“That’s the thing with arthritis. It creeps up on you like an I-don’t-know-what. Oof.” She hunched down to retrieve the fallen tissue. “This was my last one. I suppose you won’t want it now.”
A protrusion in Edward’s bag dug into his ribs. He readjusted it to take the edge off his discomfort. Meanwhile, the bus tracked the ring road.
He mused: where had he come from to get to this point? What had he created? What was his endgame? None of this felt like an achievement to him. Far from it, not a cause for celebration. No, what he had done was mere necessity.
Screams of Thy Neighbour Page 22