Finction: Turning Points #3

 

THREE

'Wait up,' he said. 'I forgot to say goodbye to Lisa.'

Simon stopped the car. A little wheel slide sent small stones jumping.

His younger brother by ten years, Nicky would never die wondering if people liked him. They just did. Something about his smile and the fact that he could hug the heart clean out of you. There was no devious maneuvering in him.

Lisa was in for a treat.

Back in the car, Nicky said: 'I really like Lisa. Just a bit too young for me.'

Simon chuckled. Lisa was only seven years old. 'You'll be an old man by the time she's old enough for you.'

Nicky gave a sudden and almighty guffaw through a clenched fist that he had stuffed into his mouth. A little spittle escaped, flying onto the dash.

'That’s okay buddy,' reassured Simon. 'Just use your sleeve.'

Nicky tried. He leaned forward, tightening the seatbelt against his chest and shoulder.

The Spotify algorithm had curated a play list of jazz piano. It tinkled from the speakers as they headed home. It had been a pleasant evening of chat, BBQ food and celebration. Simon's mate had returned from a year working in Dubai. Job done, Dev had returned home to his excited family. Tonight had been the chance to share their happiness with other family and friends.

Nicky pushed against the restraint, groaning. Spit slid slowly down the shiny plastic, hanging is a teardrop thread over the air vent.

With a cough of misplaced exasperation, He unclipped, pulled his sleeve up over his hand and bent towards the offending slime. He hated mess. Even more, he hated wet mess.

'Nicky!' Simon yelled. 'Put your belt back on.' He glanced across and saw that he had frightened him. 'Shit,' he breathed and took his foot off the accelerator to make it easier for his brother to regain his seat. The car slowed quickly.

Two searing white lights stabbed into the cabin from behind. They seemed too high to Simon, too bright, too fast.

The rear impact slammed his head into the headrest. Then his body was savagely gripped by the seatbelt in the repercussion.

 His mind flew. The car rocked into the roadside ditch, coming to rest with a shuddering concussion against a fence strainer post.

Fuck was the only word that arrived in his mind. Fuck!

He turned his head. His neck felt like it was surely fractured. He reached around and gripped it with his hands, feeling, testing, searching …

Suddenly and inexplicably terrified, he saw that the passenger seat was empty. Nothing.

A dark form lay prone on the bonnet of the car.

How did Nicky get out there?

One fleeting moment had become a lifetime.