Blood on the Motorway by Paul Stephenson

Author:Paul Stephenson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Paul Stephenson Books

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

GET REAL, GET RIGHT

By the time the van finally stopped moving Tom didn't much care if he lived or died anymore. There were great dollops of searing pain where his legs used to be. His vision blurred. His head pounded.

They stopped long enough for Tom to realise he might finally have reached his death, when the doors opened. The brightness of the outside world obscured his vision, and he pulled at the fresh blast of air with all the gusto his lungs could manage.

He tapped Leon's leg, but got no response. Perhaps his friend was already dead. Perhaps he was playing dead. Tom hoped it was the latter. He couldn't face this world without Leon.

Two figures climbed into the truck. Tom closed his eyes and waited. Hands grabbed onto him roughly, and he felt himself lifted up.

'Fucking hell, he stinks,' said a voice next to his ear. He went limp. If he was being led to his death, then so be it.

If this is the best the new world has to offer you can stick it right up your arse, thank you very much.

As someone carried him out of the truck, he heard a grunt from Leon. Someone handed Tom down to someone else. A new set of hands, or two sets of hands, he couldn't quite focus to see. He felt ground beneath him, and a cold wet cloth wiped over his face. The pain was easing, and once his eyes were clean he blinked the world back into focus. A woman was leaning over him. Her clothes were marked and dirty, her hair hastily put up. A bruise covered one cheek. She smiled at him.

'Hi,' he said, trying and failing to sit up.

'Hi,' she replied. 'You thought you were a goner, didn't you?'

'Um, yeah, pretty much. Am I not?'

'I think you should be safe for a little while.'

'Oh, well that's good.'

She turned her attention to Leon. Tom managed to prop himself up.

The moment the mystery woman touched Leon's leg, he woke with a start and a yelp, before sitting up and casting his eyes about.

'Welcome back,' Tom said. 'Glad to see you're not dead.'

Leon rubbed his head.

'Jury's still out on that one,' he said, his voice little more than a croak. 'What's going on?'

'I have no idea,' Tom said, looking back to the woman. 'Perhaps you could enlighten us?'

'Gladly,' she said. 'But not now, okay?' She glanced off behind them.

Tom and Leon nodded.

'I need to get your leg in a splint,' she said to Leon, who nodded. She left them alone.

'You reckon we could make a break for it?' Leon asked, before laughing at his own joke, which in turn became a racking cough.

The woman soon came back with a rudimentary splint cobbled together from a bit of wood and the contents of a first aid box, accompanied by one of Baxter's men.

'They gonna be alright?' he asked, in a tone of voice that suggested he didn't give two fucks one way or the other.

'They should be,' the woman replied.

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