In the rear view mirror the city of Redater
receded like an ebbing tide. Feeling strange
and light-headed, Howard steered the Maxi into
the hills. The road twisted and curled like
a worm.
He felt it again! That pain in his chest! He
winced. Surely he was too young to feel chest
pains! He had always harnessed the belief that
such afflictions were the preserve of others
and that his own heart was incapable of malfunction.
He decided that suffering a few twinges was
nothing to worry about. Perhaps the lining of
his lungs was acting up. His heart, he reasoned,
was as strong as an ox and always would be.
The hedges blurred past, punctuated by the odd
oak and telegraph pole. He seemed aware of them
as a subliminal drumming that beat out his journey.
The lines in the middle of the road, now solid,
now dotted, sped past with burgeoning velocity.
It wasn't long before the dashed lines merged,
becoming a milky flow. His head held the sensation
of spinning, of turning as gently as the stately
Earth upon its axis. On his palate he sensed
the nagging, bitter taste of Granny Grail's
potion.
Oncoming traffic seemed to make no noise. Trucks
flew past, soundlessly floating through the
abyss. Cars shot by like comets, trailing fuzzy
tails behind them. He blinked and rubbed his
eyes. His mind was dulling and unable to comprehend.
The chest pains became more persistent. They
worked their way around his ribcage. Aches and
tingles and twangs fluttered to the left then
shuddered to the right and now they hammered
about in his back. The blinding scenery blurred
past. The speed made him dizzy. He didn't know
why he was moving but he didn't like it. The
world tore at his flesh.
The speed, the speed!
The horrific speed! The greenery of the
hilly countryside was fading; the subtle hues
became washed out. The scenery tore and veered,
warped and dissolved. It was getting so bright!
He shut his eyes, opened them and blinked rapidly.
How the light stung his eyes!
An oncoming
truck! An oncoming truck! The light!
His frayed mind discerned trouble: that death
was at hand. The speed was excruciating. He
swerved and planted his foot hard on the break
pedal. The Maxi swerved and skidded.
He had no control.
He was facing the wrong way! He watched the
world spin around him. He was going backwards!
There was a bang to his right: the wheels had
hit something. The Maxi thudded and bounced.
Branches scraped against the side windows. The
car shuddered and slid to a standstill.
The engine ticked away sedately. The volatile
pains that occupied his chest settled into a
dull, expansive throb. His heart thrummed heavily.
He was dying. His strength was gone. He felt
sorry for himself. His thoughts turned desperately
to the visage of a girl. She was Gallie and
Jacintha at the same time. He yearned to see
her eyes, but there were no eyes. Only voids.
He heard devils mock him. He heard messages
from the darkest levels of his malformed mind:
that raging furnace of instinct and intuition.
He heard foul echoes of Steve's bolshy voice.
He saw the searing white of the photographer's
flash in the optics lab and the look of mortification
in Jacintha's face. He felt Drijk's hand crush
his face at Cleopatra's. He saw Greg fight the
clubbers. Greg laughed manically as he ruthlessly
pummelled his fist into someone's head. Greg
was laughing at
him! The severe pain
in his head was destroying his thoughts. His
chest pounded savagely. It was agony to inhale.
He gulped short breaths. He groaned and yearned
for unconsciousness, for numb sleep to ferry
away existence. As the agony swelled, his mind
sank into a state of cold despair. Then a thought
broke through the pain barrier.
Granny Grail had poisoned him!
He fought for his life with all his might. In
a fevered mess of awareness and dream, he lost
sense of time and events.
'That's it mate. That better mate?'
Howard coughed and spluttered. Searing spasms
in his head and burning sensations in his chest
infected his sanity. He found himself sitting
on a grass verge. Rubbing his watering eyes,
he stared at the cars and lorries that zipped
past with impatient roars. He smelled oil.
A stranger stood before him. He nodded towards
a truck parked in a nearby lay-by.
'Lucky for you I slammed on them anchors. You
only missed me by a
yard,' said the gruff
voice.
'Shit, my head!' groaned Howard in a voice that
sounded lower and rougher than usual.
'Here, 'ave some more aspirin, that'll see yer
right.'
The truck driver fished a little white plastic
bottle from his pocket. Howard swallowed down
a couple of tablets. The man pulled both caps
from a fat tartan thermos flask and poured tea.
The large unshaven countenance of his saviour
grinned widely at him from beneath a woolly
hat.
'Here, 'ave some of this. That'll do wonders.
Nice skid. You just missed me you know. Another
inch and-'. The truck driver clapped
his hands...
Howard sipped. The steaming liquid was a balm
to his sand-dry throat. The pain gradually subsided
and a hint of life returned to his muscles.
The tea tasted like
real tea. He recalled
the sour, revolting taste of the tea he had
laced with Granny Grail's potion. He felt as
if a bolt from Thor's hammer had struck him.
Now he remembered! His mind was electrified.
'Take my advice and never drink a cuppa if your
granny's been near it.'
The truck driver regarded his beverage suspiciously.
He tipped his tea onto the kerb. It steamed
and soaked into the cold, springy grass.
''Ave you been drinking laddie?' laughed the
trucker.
'Oh no, Not a drop! Have a whiff of my breath!'
The truck driver held out his hands defensively
as if to keep Howard's breath away.
'No, no, I didn't think so. That headache still
troubling?'
Howard nodded. The
aspirin! A startling
hunch came to him that the aspirin had neutralised
the poison.
'You
saved my life!' he gasped.
'Don't mention it.' The trucker seemed pleased.
'I was pretty sharp on them anchors. All comes
with the service. Could have been a bad smash
that, mate! I swear, you missed me by a
gnat's
cock.'
'One more aspirin would do me well, one for
the road.'
The truck driver sprinkled a few white pills
into Howard's palm. Howard thanked him effusively.
He felt unworthy of such a kind turn. He felt
guilt, he felt as if he had caused the truck
driver unhappiness.
'Well, must be on my way.'
The gruff-voiced trucker strolled back to his
truck, hauled himself up into the cab and lumbered
away in a cloud of black diesel exhaust.
Feeling shaken, Howard corrected the orientation
of his backwards-facing car and angrily stamped
on the accelerator. With a squeal of protest
from the fan belt, the Maxi propelled him forwards.
His mind raced. He had almost been the victim
of a cold-blooded and premeditated murder. He
raised one hand to his tender head with the
other clasping the wide, serrated steering wheel.
He had been poisoned! He would confront Granny
Grail and ask her why she had tried to kill
him. He mused that she would think him dead
by now. She would be shocked to see him. His
fury demanded uncompromising resolution; his
fury demanded he
act. She had tried to
end his life! This affront was overpowering.
He negotiated a hairpin bend with vigorous tugs
on the wheel. With yelps from the fan belt the
Maxi raced towards the one place he usually
feared: the twisted house of Granny Grail.
 | | | | |
| From: |
Knoeier | Subject: | 2002-08-18 15:16:59 |
| | | | |
help: how to add your comment Page hits: 1041Any thoughts or feedback?
Add your comment
