How Kirsty Gets Her Kicks by Jennifer Lee Thomson

Author:Jennifer Lee Thomson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

Chapter 17

Kirsty woke up in the grips of a scream. It was pitch dark and all she could smell was death and decay. Where was she? Was she dead? If she was she’d expected more.

She tried to move, but something heavy was pinning her down. Even moving a fraction to one side was impossible and she couldn’t move her arms; they were trapped like the rest of her. A tear rolled down her face. Had she been buried alive?

She knew she wasn’t dead. So, where was she? She strained her ears, trying to pick up some clue. She could hear the squawk of seagulls and another sound she recognized. A mechanical digger and it was heading her way.

She must be on some kind of building site or quarry.

Wherever she was, she was having visions of herself being squashed under a giant truck, or even worse, encased, alive in concrete.

Panic gripped her. She had to warn the driver she was here or be mangled under the truck, her bones splintering like twigs. But, how could she do that?

There was nothing she could do to draw their attention; not even a scream because her throat had dried to sandpaper, and anyway, any noise would surely be lost in the racket of the gulls and the truck.

Then the earth moved and she was tossed up in the air. Daylight stung her eyes as she squinted up at the sky. It was its usual gunmetal grey. She stuck out her tongue to catch the rain that fell; it tasted like heaven.

But, there was little time to marvel at the wonders of the universe, and the beauty of being alive. The truck was coming back. If she stayed where she was she’d be flattened for sure. No one would ever find her. No one would ever know. She’d be the bug someone squashed, unimportant and forgotten. Buried under all the household debris, the same as all the rubbish in what she now realized was a landfill site.

Looking down, she saw that her legs were trapped in a carpet. Blue Jeans must have wrapped her in it so he could dump her as per McPhee’s instructions. But, why hadn’t he killed her? He’d had the chance and surely wouldn’t have messed it up unless he’d wanted to.

With one all mighty pull, she yanked her good leg free of the carpet and hopping on one foot, reached down to pull out her prosthetic leg. The bloody thing was stuck. And the digger was getting closer.

She hauled at it again, but no joy. The leg wouldn’t budge. There was no way she could leave it behind. It wasn’t like you could buy these things in any corner shop.

There was nothing for it. She needed to attract the attention of the digger, somehow.

Scrambling up onto the top of an old TV set, she waved like a lunatic, shouting at the digger to stop, as if the driver could hear above all the racket his vehicle was making. The truck

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