Dead Loss

Chapter 1

Adam White had typed the word 'Belgium' into Google. The first entry that came back was a website called visitbelgium.com. He then turned off the computer as he was looking for reasons not to visit that particular part of Europe. But a few weeks later his failure was officially complete. He found himself in Belgium and had been there for many hours. On the ferry from Dover, he had heard some know-it-all British tourist mention that you could drive across the country in as little as four hours. He had currently been behind the wheel of his hire car for six.

He had forgotten exactly what time it had got dark here as he was sure night fell faster on mainland Europe. Now, his rented Toyota drove down yet another empty country road with fields on either side. It was deserted, pretty much like this entire land. It was also quiet, unlike his car.

If he had arrived here alone, this seemingly endless drive would be a lot more bearable than with his travelling companion. He instinctively looked towards where the passenger seat should be. Only he forgot that he was on the continent and that the passenger seat was now on his right.

Luckily his friend, Lennon Freeman, had not noticed this error. He was too busy playing with the little lever-thing that operated the passenger-side mirror. This wasn't the first incident during the trip that made Adam wish that he hung around with twenty-eight-year-olds who were not so fascinated with pressing buttons.

"Dude, do you know what would be really freaky?" Lennon asked, temporarily stopping fiddling with the lever.

Adam didn't care.

"If the car broke down and we had to stay in some big, empty house on a hill and..."

Now Adam really didn't care. He forced his mind to blot out whichever bad horror movie plot his friend was about to quote from. He had more pressing matters on his mind, like, "Where the bloody hell are we?"

"I told you we were lost," said Lennon, as he tapped the dashboard like a driving instructor asking a pupil to perform an emergency stop.

Adam regretted saying that out loud. It would now open him up to no end of, "I told you so," comments. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lennon brushing his long, unkempt hair back behind one ear. Yes, he was smiling. Here it comes. "Look, trees," Adam said quickly, getting in there first and pointing up ahead. He wasn't lying. There were trees approaching. Only he had said it merely to prevent a volley of smugness heading his way.

"Whoa," whispered Lennon, as the car passed by the (not-at-all spectacular) foliage.

At least it worked. His friend gazed out of the window, obviously taking his mind of Adam's admission. Sadly, it was at that point that Adam realised that this too would have its drawbacks. During the course of their friendship, he had been forced to endure countless horror films round Lennon's shop. Which one was he going to claim this was like?

"Do you know what this place reminds me of?" said Lennon.

Adam set his mind to 'think-of-anything-but-Lennon's-voice,' mode. He tuned out and never heard which pearl of wisdom his friend furnished him with. Of course he would never admit that the hippie may have a point. They did seem to be stranded in 'Cliché-ville' – population: stranger-hating (Belgian) rednecks, masked serial killers and the obligatory fork lightning to illuminate a vampire's hilltop castle.

The trees seemed to meet high above the car and form a naturally-occurring tunnel (of death?). He could not see much through the front windscreen, making him now wish that he hadn't hit that cyclist as they drove off the ferry. At least then both their car's front headlights would be working and there would not be pedal-marks by the wheel-arch.