Escaping Life (13 page)

It was on one
of these trips that I had noticed the broken barriers.  I had said at the time
how dangerous it was, my city-based attitude alarmed at the dangers of the
natural ravine.  Now, as I drove towards it, it was that very barrier that was
the catalyst to set me free.  I pulled up in the road about six metres before
the bend.  I couldn’t be sure, because of the rain, but I thought that I had
aligned it with the barriers perfectly.  I had to push the door hard to open
it.  Zeus was raining a war of weather down upon the earth tonight.  He understood
my intentions.  The door snapped shut as I left the car to walk towards the
barriers.  In seconds my hair was lank against my face, as the rain pooled in
my eyes, blurring my vision and seeping straight through my clothes soaking my cold
skin.  By the time I got to the barrier I was as certain as I could be that I
had walked straight.  The car was in the right place.  It was time.

I ran back to
the car, kicking up swells of rainwater with my feet and opened up the boot.  I
depressed the little button and it popped up.  Grabbing the petrol can I
sheltered back inside the car for a few minutes, my face staring back at me in
the rear view mirror.  My hair was slick to my face as my eyes looked back at
me.  This was the last time that Rebecca would exist.  These were her last
actions; her last moments.  My rain-soaked face was distorted; my four day old make
up running across my cheeks, my lips contorted.  The water was evaporating in
the heat of the car, and the windows and mirrors were steaming up.  I was
already disappearing from view.

I emptied the
petrol can, scattering its contents rapidly as if I were crazed.  In this
instance only, the rain was my enemy.  I couldn’t let it dampen the fire.  I
considered waiting, but that too was a risk.  I couldn’t be seen and I didn’t
have time.  I rummaged under the seats and found a couple of old magazines. 
After wiping my hands on the car seats so as not to get my precious tinder wet,
I shredded the magazines up and packed them tightly into all available nooks
and crannies.  The car looked ready.  I picked up the two bags.  Sucking up the
scent of my mother, it was the last bit of courage I needed as I stepped out
into a world where I would no longer exist.

I searched
about on the side of the road for a small rock, not too big, but big enough to
hold the car’s accelerator down long enough for it to drive itself over the
edge of the road.  I found a suitable one and propped it up against the rubber
of the pedal.  It was then that I noticed the lever to pop the bonnet.  Grabbing
the petrol can I shook it hard and I could just hear, above the sound of the
rain, the rattle of the remaining contents.  I yanked on the lever, and heard
the clunk of the latch as it released the heavy bonnet outside.  I headed back
out into the rain, and by fiddling around underneath the bonnet I found the
latch and flicked it open.   I shook the petrol over the warm engine, sending
out jets of steam.  I didn’t have long.  I grabbed the door handle, and pulled
open the door as far as it would go. 
Work fast!
  My fingers rattled
inside my coat pocket. 
I had forgotten the matches were there!  Please
don’t let them be soaked!
  I sheltered my head and shoulders inside the
car, my wet hair dripping onto the driver’s seat.  The first match didn’t
light.  It just brushed against the side of the box like a plain splinter of
wood.  The match was dry, but the box was wet. 
The box is wet, Goddamn
it!! 
 I could feel the immediate rise in my pulse rate, but this was no
time to start panicking.  There was no going back.  I have to light this
match.  I jumped my body over the seats to the glove box; flicking my hands
back and forth the contents went flying across the foot well.  CDs scattered
about the floor, screen wipes, lipsticks and hair brushes.  It was then the
thought came to me.  Pushing myself in further, the smell of petrol almost
overwhelming as it filtered up through my nose, my hand reached to the very
back where the smallest of items were still hiding.  I felt around a little,
until the rough metal grazed at my skin.  I snatched at the nail file and
prayed.  I wheedled out another match, my wet fingers spoiling some of the
others, and struck it against the brushed metal surface.  The match snapped in
two and fell unlit to the floor.  Taking another match, I composed myself.  I
struck the match carefully, but with enough speed and force and saw the first
spark.  It didn’t take. 
Once more. 
I rapped the match against the side
of the nail file again and it caught.  It was alight!  As I threw it against
the back seat the flames were born.  Instantly, the back seats roared into life
and I felt the intense heat of the raging fire.  The bright orange glow lit up
the sky and for the first time, the scene of my death was illuminated.  I could
see the bend in the road in front of me, and the broken pieces of barrier.  I
had lined the car up perfectly; this was going to work.  I secured my feet to
the ground as steadily as I could.  As I leaned into the car I could feel the
heat on the back of my head.  I had to work fast.  I placed the rock on top of
the accelerator pedal, and the engine whirled into action.  The car was ready. 
I grabbed the handbrake, bracing myself with my other hand on the handle of the
open driver’s door.  As I released the brake, the car roared into life, my grip
on the door the only thing preventing me from being pulled inside as it drove
itself forward.  As it rolled forward, the flames began to envelop the front of
the passenger seat.  I could smell the acrid scent of burnt hair and plastic. 
I pulled myself as hard as I could on the driver’s door handle, willing my body
out of the car.  As I hit the gravel on the road I let go of the door handle. 
I rolled a couple of times, until I came to a standstill, lying on my front.  The
short break in the rain came just at the right moment as I lifted my head just
in time to see the car, engulfed in a ball of angry flames, roll over the edge
of the road and into the ravine.  I heard the car rumble down the side of the
ravine, loud thudding of metal intersected by periods of airborne silence.  As
it hit the bottom a flash of fire raced up into the sky, steam and blue petrol-fuelled
smoke charging upwards giving me a clear view of the towering trees above me. 
I rested my face on the ground, streams of rainwater washing across me,
concealing my tears as if already I was no longer real.  I knew that I didn’t
have long, and that I had to move.  I had only a matter of hours to walk to the
bus station.  Lying here, face down on the ground, I had passed my final
moments.  I didn’t exist in this world anymore.

It was nine-thirty in the
morning when Jack Fraser found himself cruising down the winding road into
Haven.  He was tempted to test his four by four function and give his Explorer
the chance to really open up, but he thought better of it.  He had stopped no
less than four times trying to find this sleepy little village. 
Who would chose to live here,
he thought to himself as
he lost his way through yet another country lane, too narrow and too meandering
for the safe passage of another vehicle.  He had actually had to back up a
couple of times, his city driving unsuitably rash for such corners, only just
missing several oncoming cars in his path.

Resisting the urge to go
straight to see Elizabeth Green, he decided to park up in the centre of Haven. 
Like a dog in a new home, he couldn
’
t
settle until he had sniffed out this new environment looking for clues.  He
rolled his truck though the craters of the gravelly clearing
labelled
as a car park, and pulled into a
shady corner.  He heard and ignored a voice as he made his way over to the
parking meter, rummaging in his pocket for some spare change.  His heart jumped
up into his throat as he felt a hand rest down onto his shoulder.

“
Whoa,
sorry, didn
’
t
mean to scare you there!
”
 
The geeky looking man behind him, dressed in hiking trousers cut to the knee
with his T shirt tucked in tightly smiled at Jack, his ruddy red cheeks covered
in spidery veins.  This face had seen too much wear. 
“
I
was calling you to tell you that the machine is broken.
”

“
Oh,
OK.
”
 
Jack composed himself again, alarmed at just how jumpy he had been.  The lack
of sleep was obviously catching up with him.  He needed a caffeine hit, and probably
one of his just-in-case cigarettes to settle his nerves. 
“
Should
I pay you?
”

“
I
’
ll
tell you what you can do, if you like, pop into that little caf
é
you can see - the one with the ice cream picture outside - and get yourself a
little something.  Let
’
s
just call the parking fee our little secret.
”
 
He patted him lightly on the shoulder.  The motto 'LIFE IS AN ADVENTURE - LIVE
IT
’
emblazoned across his T shirt appeared to offer more potential for audacious
exploits than those its wearer may have the capability to sustain.

“
OK,
will do thanks. 
Mr.
....?
”
he waited, the first building block for his mental map of faces and names of
Haven almost in place.

“
Mr.
Lyons. 
Bill for short.
”
 
He sat himself back down underneath the stripy
umbrella and looked to settle immediately back into a snooze, as if the whole
event and discussion had merely occurred as part of an episode of sleep.

Jack headed back to his
truck, the door of which he had previously left open, and threw his jacket
inside.  It was too warm down at the coast, and the jacket was certainly too
much.  He retrieved the contents of his pockets: his mobile, notepad, cigarettes,
and ID badge and stuffed them into his trouser pockets.  He glanced at the brown
file, peeking out from just underneath his jacket. 
I can
’
t leave it there,
he said to himself, so he
picked it up and tucked it underneath his arm.  He rummaged inside the glove
compartment and found his sunglasses.  Nothing expensive like the Oakley
’
s,
sure to be worn by the local surfers as they drove down to the coast on the
windy days to catch the early morning waves, and the most beautiful, at least
Jack thought, time of the day.  It was a long time since he had been at the
coast.  He had stopped going after the accident, the reminder of the noises
coming from the beach as the children played and danced about in the surf too
much to bear.  Fortunately, the beach was quiet today, save the odd fisherman
and lone man walking his dog.  He stopped in front of the tea rooms, as
instructed by
‘
Mr. Lyons - Bill for short
’
. 
There was a menu on the outside of the window, offering scones, teas and
sandwiches.  Patting his stomach, he was actually a little hungry.  Before he
had the chance to make any further decision, the door flung open, and the
little bell above it shook out its tune.

“
I
can put you a little table outside if you like?
”
 
The smiling face looked like it had been expecting him.  Maybe she had been
watching as Bill pointed him in that direction. 
Oh God
,
this place is going to smother me already! 
“
If
you
’
re
hungry, or for a coffee?
”

He thought about it.  It
would actually be nice to sit here, take in the sea air, and get lost in the
view out to sea.  But that was not why he was here; he wasn
’
t
on a day trip.

“
Thanks,
but I
’
ll
come inside.  Looks nice in there,
”
he lied as he poked his head around the door.  The lie was worth it, as her
face lit up like Christmas.  As she proudly pushed the door inwards and
beckoned him through, he brushed past her ample body and enormous bust.  He sat
close enough to the window to see the activity outside, and positioned close
enough to engage the overbearing woman.  He set the brown file down on the
table in front of him and smoothed out the white tablecloth underneath it.  He
picked up the red plastic menu and made a choice from the limited selection.