ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(23)

“You want me to come with you?”

Andrew shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t be fair to Charlie. She probably won’t want to see me, let alone my family. You stay here and look after Bex. I think she’s more upset about this situation than she lets on.”

“Okay,” said Pen. “Give this…Charlie…my best, okay?”

Andrew kissed his wife goodbye and left the house again. The hospital was five or six miles away so he would need to take his car to get there. Hopefully, now that it was dark, the graffiti written all over it would not be visible.

Andrew pulled out his car keys and pressed the alarm fob. The car’s lights flashed twice.

To the pedo-mobile, Andrew thought as he looked at the once-beautiful feat of German engineering. He pulled open the driver’s door and hopped inside, plonking his butt down into the leather seat. The ignition started as soon as he turned the key and the car was already moving when Andrew began fumbling for his seatbelt. His eyes were off the road only a few seconds while he looked back to retrieve it, but it was long enough to completely miss the person standing in the road.

The car hit at only 20mph, but it was quick enough to launch the stranger up onto the bonnet and back down to the pavement again.

Andrew stamped on the brakes.

The tyres squealed.

The car stopped.

There was a body lying in the road and Andrew could not believe it. His world kept getting worse with each passing second.

He pressed the release on the seat belt and shoved open the door, then he stumbled out into the numbing cold of the frosty air.

The body in the road was a young boy, unconscious and bleeding. Glass covered the asphalt with wicked shards of glass which sparkled in the car’s headlamps like thousands of alligator teeth. Andrew rushed over to the boy and dropped down to his knees, ignoring the stabbing pains caused by the unforgiving tarmac.

Andrew shook the boy gently. “Are you okay?”

Stupid question.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Andrew said in a slow, clear voice. “I’m to going take you to the hospital.”

I was on my way there, anyway, Andrew thought glumly. To see another young kid that got hurt because of me.

I’m going to hell.

Andrew sprung up off his knees, went and opened the rear passenger-door of the car. Then he went back to the injured boy, kneeled beside him, and threaded his arms underneath his weight to hoist him up. Thankfully the boy was pretty lean and Andrew was just about able to carry him over to the back seat of the car without running out of steam. He placed the boy down gently, bending his legs at the knee so that the door had room to close. But before Andrew had chance to shut it, the boy opened his eyes and started to moan.

“Hey there,” Andrew said softly. “My name is Andrew. You’ve been in an accident, but everything is going to be okay. I’m taking you to the hospital right now. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy carried on moaning for a few moments more but eventually managed to answer Andrew’s question. He said his name was, “Davie.”





Chapter Eight


Andrew reached the Alexandra Hospital in less than ten minutes, screeching to a halt outside the entrance of the A & E department. There was no one around and he had to cry out for help. It wasn’t long before a male nurse and a couple of orderlies appeared outside, hurrying to see what the emergency was.

The orderlies quickly retrieved a gurney when they saw the injured boy and, together with the male nurse, managed to hoist Davie out of the car and onto the wheeled bed. Without hesitation they then disappeared inside the hospital, leaving Andrew alone with the male nurse.

“Do you know the boy?” the nurse asked him.

Andrew shook his head. “Said his name was Davie, but I’ve never met him before.”

The nurse put a hand on Andrew’s back and ushered him inside. “We’ll take good care of him, sir. For now we’ll need you to answer a few questions so that we can assess the extent of his injuries. You may have to make a report to the police as well. I assume it was you that hit him?”

It mortified Andrew to hear it out loud, but he had no choice except to nod – yes, he had hit the boy; had run him right over because he hadn’t been paying attention.

I ran down somebody’s son.

How would I feel if somebody had hit Bex?

The nurse led Andrew over to a grouping of cheap, plastic chairs bolted to the floor in uniform rows. “Take a seat, sir. We’ll keep you updated on his condition. Is there someone you’d like us to call?”