Read Survival of Thomas Ford, The Online
Authors: John A. A. Logan
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Literary, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Murder, #Literary Fiction, #Psychological, #Thrillers
Survival of Thomas Ford, The
The Survival Of Thomas Ford
John A. A. Logan
White Butterfly Press
Copyright © 2011 John A. A. Logan
All Rights Reserved
There was an old road that had no name and very few people ever walked on it. Littered and abandoned at the sides of this road were many vehicles. Tractors with high, rusted metal, moulded seats. Vans that had been depended on to deliver fish or groceries. All left here now, to countless seasons of rain and snow. Frozen vehicles on an old road where no-one went any more. Birds would land on the metal surfaces, stand and sing, then fly off to somewhere more attractive. Sunlight would sparkle on chrome and steel, though there was nobody to see it. The weight of the vehicles, over decades, had compressed the earth below. Metal wheel rims had punctured rotted rubber tyres, then the wheel rims had shoved deeper and deeper into the beleaguered ground’s surface.
And from that brown surface, it seemed now to Thomas as he stared, something old and unhappy with the situation could almost be seen to seep out of the earth’s guts, like a barely visible gas emission. He assumed it was a trick of the light, or his own faulty and tired perception, but the air really did seem to shimmer just beside where the metal wheel rim broke the ground. Thomas sniffed and walked over to the wheel. He kneeled down and sniffed again, thinking if this really was some gas coming up from the earth he would smell it surely. But there was nothing to smell. He reached forward and positioned his hand hesitantly at the centre of the shimmering area. He felt a quick smile come to his mouth as the air danced coldly, just at the edge of his fingertips. At that moment he heard a whirring at his right ear, then a large white butterfly flew straight at Thomas’ twitching fingers. The butterfly’s wings kissed the side of Thomas’ index finger. Its white form passed through the shimmering air, then lifted suddenly, gained height. Thomas looked up to follow it. It rose higher and higher above him, then he couldn’t see it any more. He was staring up now at the bronze and copper leaves growing from the thick outreaching branch of a tree overhead.
“Thomas! Come on! I’m cold.”
Thomas looked back at where he had seen the gas coming up from the earth. There was none there now. He bit his lip and stood up straight, taking a deep breath. He turned and jogged along the road’s rough and broken surface, until he caught up with Lea and took her hand.
“What were you doing?” she said.
“I thought I saw something.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
They drove back to the city on that car-packed road beside the water. Lea was quiet. Twice Thomas thought she had fallen asleep she was so quiet, but when he looked over her eyes were open, focused out the window, on the rippled water.
After the second time he looked over, when his eyes returned to the road, he saw the next corner closer than he had realised. He slowed down and went into the left turn, but he knew he wasn’t quite in control, felt the car’s weight shift to the right. Half-way through the turn Thomas saw, just ahead, a lorry and a car, abreast, filling the road. Thomas could see the young male faces above the car’s red bonnet, understood instantly the gamble that driver had made, overtaking just before the bend. The nose of the car ahead was exactly even with the nose of the lorry’s huge, broad truck bed. Again Thomas stared at the two male heads above the car’s red bonnet. The driver had a bird-like hooked nose and something hawkish about his eyebrows. The passenger had a straight black fringe and the jaw of a heavyweight boxer. Thomas saw their heads float above their car’s red bonnet like white eggs on a red dish and he thought
you’ve killed us
Thomas didn’t have time to look at the lorry driver above the truck’s thick grille. Instinct told Thomas there was no time for either himself or the bird-faced car driver to brake. There was nowhere for either car to go to Thomas’ left, it was just a high embankment of thick trees there, tight to the road. Thomas couldn’t believe he was doing it as he raised his left wrist sharply on the steering wheel. He turned into the lorry’s path, accelerating, bursting through a short stone dyke with the
Toyota
’s nose. Thomas heard Lea scream at the same moment the lorry struck the rear left wheel of the
Toyota
, turning the car’s long dive towards the water below into a spinning and twisting which made Thomas’ gut whirl. He had time to blink jerkily and open his mouth while the car fell. He meant to turn to Lea, look at her, but his neck was frozen. Instead, between each blink, Thomas saw the white butterfly again, its wings fluttering as it ascended. The car hit the water with a sound that had nothing wet about it. Weightlessness, like a sorcerer’s spell, ended. Thomas only knew that the seat-belt had stopped his head being battered against the
Toyota
’s roof. Thomas heard himself breathe out. He turned to look at Lea. She was staring at him, unseeing, eyes bloodshot, her hands shaking and darting around. Thomas saw she was trying to undo her seatbelt. He nodded and reached across, but her hands were in the way. He wanted to slap them out of the way, but there was some restraint stopping him. Then it seemed something enormous and merciless was sucking air out of the car. Thomas looked ahead, up, out the windscreen which was starred with the pattern of broken glass, but still intact. The windscreen was like a portal into the real world, a circle of sky and cloud and sunlight at the centre. But encroaching at the edges, the black water. Then the circle of sky vanished. Thomas felt the car sinking. All light was gone. He felt Lea’s hand strike his face, heard her scream. He tried to lean toward her again, find the seatbelt release. Her hands again, flailing. He batted them out of the way. The car was sinking and twisting in the deep water, already several metres down by the time Thomas gave up on Lea’s seatbelt, brought his hands back to the side of his own waist, easily found the seatbelt release there. Thomas heard the
Toyota
’s frame screech with the pressure, then the windscreen burst in and Thomas could not tell how much of what hit his face was glass and how much was cold water.
The lorry had gone round the blind corner and travelled far along the next section of straight road before its driver could stop. He saw the red Volvo that had caused the crash flash past on the right and shoot ahead. The lorry driver had a clear view of the Volvo driver’s profiled, bird-like nose and the passenger’s square jaw. He stared at the rear window of the Volvo to see if their heads would turn and look back. They did not. The lorry driver tried to focus on their license plate and even said the number aloud to himself once, but it instantly vanished from his mind. He could feel the wash of fresh sweat across his back and hips. There was a dull heavy pain in his left arm and the temple by the side of his left eye. He thought to reach for his phone. The hand he raised towards it was shaking violently. He swallowed, checked the mirror. Nothing coming from behind. He opened the driver’s side door, stepped down, the pain shifting from his arm to his chest now. He heard himself wheezing as he started to walk back in the direction of the corner, that car, the man and woman whose faces he had seen clearly as the car crossed his path and headed for the drop to the water.
“Aaaa!”
He heard himself make the sound, hadn’t realised it was about to come out of him. He sucked in air twice and stopped walking. He remembered that he had left the phone in the lorry cab. He turned on the road, fell to one knee, hissed in air, slid to the rough tarmac unconscious already. A light rain came then, sprinkling gently on the road, the lorry, and the sprawled man who had been left behind to die here by the bird-faced Volvo driver.
Already far along the dampening road from the carnage he had left behind himself, the bird-faced driver of the red Volvo noted the new fall of rain, stretched a long arm forward, and flicked on his windscreen wipers. The black-haired, square-jawed passenger turned to stare at the driver’s hawk-nosed profile. The driver’s eyes were wide like an excited child’s as he bit his lower lip.
“That was
mental
!” shouted the driver. “They’re all fucked back there, man. Fucked!”
The passenger turned away and looked forward, into the new rain. He shook his head. In contrast to the vivacious eyes of the driver the passenger’s eyes were solemn, almost numb.
“Did you see the woman, she wasn’t bad eh?” said the driver.
“Do you think they’ll get out alright?”
The driver sniffed, long and hard.
“Not a fucking chance, Robert. No after hitting the water from that height. Uh uh.”
The passenger looked covertly at the speedometer. Jimmy was doing 80.
“Better slow down eh Jimmy? Don’t want the cops stopping us after that.”
Jimmy sniffed again, eased his foot up a few degrees. The rain was washing away at the leaves of the silver birches up on the right, stacked across the high embankment. Jimmy sat up stiff and straight suddenly in the seat, his lean frame quivering with tension.
“I am the
Gandolfini! I
am the Gandolfini!” he screamed. “Jesus! Did you see that? Fuck, that guy just drove right through the stone wall eh? That took nerve, man. He knew it was his only chance. Either hit us head on or try for the water. So he took the water. Fuck. He reacted fast or we’d be dead with him.”
The square-jawed passenger flinched.
“Slow down a bit more before we get to the village eh Jimmy? I can’t handle it if the cops stop us and get us for this, man.”
“What do you mean, get us? You did fuck all!” Jimmy shouted as he stared ahead into the rain.
“No, Jimmy, they’d have me questioned for hours man, then Court, no, I’m no well enough for that.”
Jimmy bared his teeth and shook his head. He was thinking of the hair and eyes on the head of that woman in the
Toyota
. He only needed to see a woman for a second to know if he liked her. He had liked that one. And now she was dead in the water. He let his foot raise off the throttle another few degrees. Ahead, the last corner before the village was coming up. Robert was right. They should do their best to be invisible for a while. He followed the slow banking left turn into the village, then indicated to turn right. Robert was surprised when Jimmy flicked the indicator.
“Where are we going?”
Jimmy said nothing. Robert turned to look at Jimmy’s grinning profile. He knew the grin didn’t signify anything in particular. It was the default expression for Jimmy’s strange soul. A kind of primeval, skull-like repose for a restless spirit. A mask. Robert watched his friend’s mask-face for a few more seconds. The Volvo was accelerating now, along a narrow road Robert had never been on before. He looked out the windscreen, past the working wipers and the drizzled glass. They were heading straight for the foot of the brooding hill of dark trees that overlooked the village and the water. It was high and incongruous, like some Rwandan rain forest, gorilla-rich, looming above. The car followed the road through a sharp turn near the edge of the hill. The rear wheels skidded, very slightly, as the Volvo came out of the turn. They drove along a little further until Robert saw a parking area and a sign saying Chalet Reception. Robert was surprised when Jimmy braked abruptly, flung an elbow up on the back of his seat, stared into the driver’s mirror sharply, then spun his neck to look out the rear window. The Volvo started to reverse as though Jimmy intended to ram the chalet reception building. Then Robert saw that Jimmy was aiming the car for a rough track, just to the right of the reception building. The Volvo’s rear wheels dug hard into the ground. Robert saw dirt spray up all around the car’s boot. The nose of the Volvo dipped heavily as the car started to struggle its way up a steep rough track, overgrown with grass and vegetation.
Jimmy hooted and slapped the back of his seat, his mask-grin intent on the rear of the car as it attacked the steep hill. Robert looked ahead, at the chalet reception that grew smaller below them, then disappeared behind trees.
“Aye,” said Jimmy. “Imagine going in the water like that, man. The falling. Jesus. Beautiful woman like that.”
Jimmy sniffed.
“Hey,” he said, “check it out, they’ve covered this hill with chalets. Well, they’re spaced out, but they’re all over the hill. One family owns the ones on the bottom half of the hill, another totally different one has the chalets on the top. But up this track, man, no-one comes here. Even if that lorry driver can describe us, like, no-one will look here.”
The Volvo was labouring now, starting to fail. There was a turn to the left coming up, Robert could see it as he strained his neck to look behind. The engine screamed until Robert thought something in it would give right there. But then Jimmy was using a shallow bank at the track’s edge, ploughing against it with the Volvo’s rear end. It gave him enough room to turn round again, face the windscreen, throw the car into first gear. Jimmy’s well-trained forearms swelled and popped below rolled-up shirt sleeves as he brutally screwed the steering column all the way to the right. Then he let the clutch out gently, slowly, and the Volvo just missed the track’s opposite edge, made the turn and started to push its nose up this steep hill. Even in first gear it was a battle to drive the car on.
They started to pass abandoned vehicles that evidently had failed long ago to manage this climb. There was an ancient rusted tractor with a high seat that Robert stared out at. Then an old van, most of its bodywork rotted away and unrecognisable. The Volvo’s engine was involved in that high, unnatural, terrifying metallic scream again, as though its soul and metal were being torn apart in a final rupturing surge of power. Another tractor came up on the right. Robert stared at it past Jimmy’s grinning gargoyle profile. Robert didn’t feel well enough for any of this. The rain was clearing up now and, just beside the tractor’s rotted tyre, burst through by a rusted metal rim, Robert thought for a second he saw some kind of steam or gas rising up from the ground, just there, by the tractor’s broken wheel as he stared. Then a clank came from the Volvo’s engine, beneath the bonnet right in front of Robert. He stared ahead at the frightening, dead sound. It was followed by a whining screech from the engine. Jimmy hooted again, then jammed the brakes on. He pulled the handbrake up hard, turned the engine off. Suddenly they were sitting there, in silence, at an absurd tilted angle, like astronauts on a launch pad, waiting for countdown.