Parker - Stalk Me

Stalk Me

Richard Parker

Richard Parker 2016

Richard Parker has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

First published in 2016 by Endeavour Press Ltd.

This edition published in 2018 by Endeavour Media Ltd.

Chapter 1

T he only element of Beths last glimpse that didnt seem to shatter was the windshield. Every other component of her reality fractured and splintered as if a pickaxe had swung and embedded itself at its centre.

Shed checked the road ahead was clear before turning to Luc, but didnt see the stationary brown camper van tucked just beyond the curve of beech trees. Luc was in the passenger seat looking at his iPhone and something that clearly amused him. Her reflexes were good; she would have hit the brakes and they would have suffered nothing worse than whiplash. But her eyes were on Lucs and as hed turned to meet her gaze theyd hit the camper full on. It was the last time she ever saw him smile.

It was the smile Beth couldnt believe had been directed at her the day he first spoke to her outside the athletics track and that shed seen thousands of times since, but the crash wiped it from her memory never to be retrieved.

After the impact, it was as if time had continued onwards and left Beth briefly suspended in a vacuum. Then her vision was flooded white, and momentarily she couldnt draw in air through her nostrils or mouth.

She could hear the sounds of panic trapped in her head and the membrane of whatever was trying to suffocate her pressing tight against her face. Her skull was aching, not as if it had been traumatised, but as if it were being pumped up. Her personality had momentarily ejected itself from the vehicle. Seconds passed as she tried to remember who and where she was.

With a great effort, she swung her neck back to fill her lungs, away from whatever was smothering her. It was the deployed airbag, and the sound of her erratic breathing bounced around its interior as its concentrated plastic smell filled her nostrils. She turned her head towards her passenger and heard bone grate with the action. Seeing Luc like that made her remember who she was.

Luc had his face in his airbag, eyes closed and almost serene. Shed helped him shave his head that morning and momentarily focused on the tiny nick shed accidentally made with the razor in the top curve of his left ear. Her identity and situation snapped back at her as if it had been on elastic, and the impact of that seemed worse than the crash. His chin tilted upwards and a tear of blood appeared at his nose. It didnt drop into his lap but rose to the ceiling quickly followed by more thick droplets.

Luc... Her voice sounded strange, as if it were bottled.

They were upside down and Beth could feel the pressure of her throat working against her jaw and making her ears chime. She could smell petrol. Until that precise moment, it had been an aroma shed always liked. They both had to get out quickly. As her circulation overfilled the veins in her head, she listened for signs of other drivers, people who might be running to help. But all she could hear were the hard rain thudding on the bottom of the car and the motor of the twisted wipers repeatedly grinding like a sluggish, rusty countdown.

Beths fingers scrabbled for the buckle of her seatbelt. Her weight was jamming it tight, and it was constricting her lungs. The pad of her thumb pressed weakly against the solidity of the button as she bent and kicked her dangling legs against the pedals in frustration. One of her backless high heels dropped to the ceiling.

The belt released and her scalp was suddenly slamming hard against padded metal, her sapphire blue dress falling over her like a parachute. The rest of her body toppled and her spine took its weight, her legs angled against the side window. She slid her shoulders from under the pile of herself and tried to reach across to Luc.

Luc. Her constricted windpipe barely twisted out the word. Beth shifted closer to him.

He hung above her, blood continuing to trickle from his nose into a pool beside her. He moved suddenly and she heard a strangled breath escape him.

Im free. Dont move. Im going to try and get out. She reached past the headrest and gently touched the back of his head, but he didnt respond.

Where was her mobile? She slid her hands about her trying to locate the tiny black tassel shoulder bag shed brought to the restaurant. It wasnt anywhere in reach.

She slid herself to her door and tried the handle. It wouldnt budge. Was it locked, or was the metal warped from the impact? Try the window. There was no button for it on the door. She dragged herself back and stretched up between the two inflated airbags to the console above her. Which one was it? The buttons and icons were upside down. She tried a few, stretching her arm higher and feeling a sharp rush of pain in her spine.

Beth heard the soft whirr of the window and scrambled back to the door. The glass was rising in front of her like a stage curtain and she crawled through on her hands and knees into dim daylight, cold rain suddenly penetrating the skin exposed by the V at the back of her dress. She couldnt rise, couldnt stand. She felt the stones in her kneecaps and the icy droplets on her legs, saturating her tights and her knickers where her dress had ridden up her back. Darkness started soaking through her vision.

She moved herself forward and expected to see her own blood pouring from her face and spattering the backs of her hands. It felt like every part of her had ruptured, that everything inside her body was broken and loose. She pulled herself all the way out, her knuckles butting an unidentifiable piece of metal. She realised the warped obstacle in front of her matched the silver body of their Nissan Pathfinder.

Faint gravel-hissing footsteps. She couldnt work out which direction they were coming from. Was it somebody looking for survivors?

She angled her body away from the metal and pulled herself towards the sound. The rain intensified and she found herself crawling through a deep puddle, the impact of the heavy droplets splashing about her ears. She couldnt keep her head up, and it hinged forward so she was breathing the dirty water through her nostrils. She tasted oil and mud at the top of her throat and spluttered as she lifted her face back out.

Beth tried to look up and along the curving road, but her aching spine only allowed her to raise her vision enough to glimpse the bottom half of the skewed camper in front. The chocolate-brown back doors were mangled and the French licence plate lay in the other debris that had been smashed from it, but the vehicle was still the right way up. In the gap between its underside and the road, she could see a pair of feet moving. Dark navy trousers and black boots. Somebody was the other side of it.

She cried out, not recognising the mournful howl that emerged from her, but hoping it would be loud enough to attract their attention. Her face dropped into the puddle a second time and she had to blow a few bubbles of air into the water before she could raise her head again.

Beth fought unconsciousness, and when she cracked her eyes and blinked the water from them, somebody was standing beside her, a smudgy black silhouette against the failing daylight. She opened her mouth, fighting oblivion to alert them to Lucs predicament. Their foot swung back and kicked Beth squarely in the face. Before the impact embedded her deep into unconsciousness, she heard the squeak of her teeth and a flat crunch as her jaw fragmented.