The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters(82)
Jessica swallowed. She shuffled a little closer and tentatively reached out a hand. ‘I’m sorry, Simon. That must be awful.’
‘These things happen. You have to make do, don’t you?’
Jessica reached up and felt first Simon’s arm, then his shoulder, and finally the cool, soft skin of his face. She stroked his cheek, the tiny button of a tear bursting over her fingers.
‘I don’t think I can make it better, Simon. I wish I could, but–’
Simon’s fingers closed over hers. ‘You already have,’ he said.
Jessica closed her eyes. When his lips touched hers, all the infinite troubles of the world seemed to melt away.
The kiss seemed to last forever. Jessica never wanted it to end, but like everything, eventually it did, and she stared at Simon in the dark, his face just inches from her own.
‘Listen,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. There’s nothing to hear. They’ve gone. The mob’s gone.’
‘I told you, didn’t I? Things always get better.’
Simon smiled. ‘They do,’ he said.
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The rest of the story of Jessica and Simon is told in Chris Ward’s novel, The Tube Riders.
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A proud and noble Cornishman (and to a lesser extent British), Chris Ward ran off to live and work in Japan back in 2004. There he got married, got a decent job, and got a cat. He remains pure to his Cornish/British roots while enjoying the inspiration of living in a foreign country.
In addition to The Tube Riders series, he is the author of the novels The Man Who Built the World and Head of Words, as well as the Beat Down! action/comedy novella series under the name Michael S. Hunter, and the Tales From the Village Green (cricket short stories) series under the name of Michael White.
Chris’s Blog: http://amillionmilesfromanywhere.blogspot.jp/
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The Riddle
Alison Blake
Crash! Spinning! Turning over and over. Pain. Oh God, the pain. Flashing light, crushing weight. Her head vibrates like a tuning fork. Blackness. Something wet and sticky. Flashing lights again but now they are all the colors of the rainbow. Too bright, stabbing into her head. Blood dribbles out of her mouth. Her head crushed by a giant vise. Terror, terror, terror.
Help me! The scream echoes in her head but no sound waves carry it beyond her tortured body.
Help me!
Now she hears voices. Thank you, God.
"There's someone in there," says a man's voice.
"Christ," says another. "How are we going to get her out?"
Help me!
"They can't hear you, Erin."
What?
"I said they can't hear you. Isn't that right, TooTrue?"
"Probably," agrees TooTrue.
"Here, let me help you." A tall, strong looking young man offers his hand. She reaches for it.
"I wouldn't, if I were you," says his companion. "That's the first step on the road to a terrible destination." He shudders.
The helpful young man, snorts, an oddly inelegant sound coming from someone as courtly looking as he. "That's the self-righteous for you," he tells Erin, "strong on advice but short on practical help." He reaches out his hand again and she grabs it fiercely. Anything to escape the wreck.
Now on her own two feet she looks down at herself. There is no blood, no broken bones, and no lacerations, only a nasty headache and a slight dizziness. "Thank you," she says to the beautiful young man. "I thought I was dead for sure."
"That remains to be decided," says TooTrue gesturing with his head. All three turn to observe the first responders. They are working frantically over her poor car which is wrapped obscenely around a battered Hummer.
"I don't understand," she says, although she is afraid that she does. "I'm alive." Her voice is high pitched verging on loss of control.
"Yes, yes." TooTrue is impatient, perhaps irritated at being pulled away from something more important. "For now," he adds.
"What does he mean?" she appeals to the good looking, elegantly dressed, young man.
Before he can answer, TooTrue says, "Touch and go, don't you know." He sounds bored. But it's her life he is talking about.
The young man smiles gently at her, a beautiful smile, warm and inviting with a hint of humor. "It's a choice, you see."
"I get to choose between living and dying?"
"That's pretty much up to them," says TooTrue. He gestures again at the men now working with the Jaws of Life, tearing apart her little car, trying to reach... but there is no one there.
"If I'm dead, where's my body? The car is empty. I'm out here not crushed in my car."
"As I said, it's a choice."
"I don't understand."
"I'll explain, sweetheart."
Now TooTrue snorts. He says in a high pitched, scratchy voice "You, girl, I would like to point out that everything Nick says will not necessarily lead you to the truth."
"Nick?"
"Nicholas," says the handsome, young man with a graceful bow. "TooTrue is a clever fellow. Even his name is clever, and not to be taken literally." He sighs rather theatrically. "I regret to say you find yourself smack in the middle of one of the oldest riddles known to humankind. An unenviable position.