The slightest movement sent a new wave of agony on a
roller coaster journey through his body, each more intense
than the previous. Broken and contorted, he was a surgeon’s
nightmare. By rights he should be dead, lying at the bottom
of the ravine into which his car had plunged, not restrained
on a table in a dimly lit room and God only knows where!
Admittedly he had been lucky. Too drunk to bother with his
seatbelt, the moment the car left the road he had been flung
out like a rag doll onto the embankment, whilst the vehicle
plummeted to a fiery death.
The smell of alcohol was still detectable on his
breath. He had been well over the limit, having stopped off
at his favourite bar after a hard day at the office. One
drink led to two; then three and before he knew it, last
orders had been called. Even then he could have chosen to
take a taxi home as he usually did on such occasions but it
had been a wet evening, and with a conference on across
town, taxis were in short supply. It was the fifty minute
wait he had been quoted before a taxi was available that had
been the deciding factor in his decision to take the gamble
to drive home. A gamble that failed to payoff! If he had
been less intoxicated and a little more observant, there was
the chance that he might have noticed the other vehicle pull
out and follow him when he left the bar, but he hadn’t. As
far as he was aware, the lights had come from nowhere. One
moment he had the road to himself and the next, the
headlights of a vehicle were reflected in his rear-view
mirror. Wary of the possibility that it might be the police
he slowed down. It was a mistake. The headlights gained
speed until they were bearing down on him. At the final
moment, the car pulled out from behind him as if it was
about to overtake. It never happened. The car swung back in,
catching the rear of his own and causing it to swerve. The
next instance he was plummeting down a steep embankment,
having crashed through the barrier on the side of the
carriageway.
From the shadows the figure stepped forward. The
man lifted his head, craning his neck in order to catch a
glimpse.
“Please,” he managed, his dry course voice
barely recognisable. “Please, the pain. I need something for
the pain.”
There was no reply.
The man coughed, bringing up phlegm and blood.
The silhouette separated itself from the
darkness and crossed the room towards him. The man flinched
as the figure came into view. Even in his current state he
knew something wasn’t right. The features of the figure
appeared to be shifting, changing, as if they were moulding
themselves into something new.
“I always hoped we would meet again!”
The man shook his head. The pain was too much.
It was playing tricks on his mind. The voice that had spoken
sounded not too dissimilar to his own! “What do you mean?
Who are you?”
The figure took another step forward, the glint of steel in
his hand. “Who am I? That’s a question with so many answers.
Perhaps you should be asking what am I? Even then, it has
been so long that even I am no longer sure.”
