RUN

Chapter Four

   Malcolm lives on the Kingston Peninsula: a stretch of coastal woods and summery cottages thirty kilometres out from Saint Peter, the city Alex lives in.

Alex drives off the ferry ramp at quarter to one before starting up the peninsula's narrow road. It winds along steep cliff-side where it's a straight drop to the inky river below. The car's high-beams carefully lead the way.

    For a while he had the radio on to relax himself. Between songs the DJ commented on military jets that'd passed Saint Peter throughout the day, loud enough to make the Earth shake when they went overhead.

    'You'd have to be living under a rock ... underneath another rock not to know they've been flying,' the DJ chimed, full of energy. 'And can you believe this? Some woman actually had the galls to call in today and call it a government conspiracy. Government! Conspiracy! Uh, hello? Lady? Lose the tinfoil! We have an airport in this city. Ever heard of 'em? Planes and airports go together like ... like ... like bologna and ketchup!! Whatever happened to bologna and ketchup, anyway? Now, there's a conspiracy!'

    Alex turned off the radio after that. Every time the DJ enunciated a word, the syllables were like bullets shooting him. The migraine was in full force. So he drove in silence and concentrated until reaching the peninsula.

    Now he's almost to the cottage. There aren't any street lights to illuminate the backwoods roads. All he has are the high beams and they're making him sick. Like staring into the sun. But he's almost there. No more than ten minutes away now. He's eager to arrive.

    The road is coming at him fast. He's moved away from the coast, taking an inward trail leading to the middle of the peninsula between the tall pine trees, rising up, resembling cold stone in the night.

    The car climbs an easy hill. Gravity pushes weight down on him, squeezing fresh pain out of the migraine. Tears well in his eyes. But he's almost there, he knows its almost over, almost. Until a low rumble starts behind him.

    It begins in the furthest distance. A buzzing sound. So far away it could be the friction of horizon and land rubbing. But it grows.     Alex can hear it now. It's louder than the car. Evolving. No longer a buzz. It's becoming a windy growl.

    ... wooossshh

    Alex steers the car along the road, trees whipping by as he drives. The migraine amplifies the sound as it gets louder.

    ... waaaooooossshhh

    The sound is chasing him. It's coming up, not far now. His head feels as though its catching fire, the pain building, throbbing punches. What the hell is that sound, he thinks. What the hell? The ground is practically shaking with the reverberations.

    ... wwwaaaaaaooooossshhh!

    Now his head feels as though its being split apart. The high beams are too much to look at. He's trying to maintain control. The sound is right behind. Exploding. A giant's roar. And then quickly overhead two military jets soar past, many miles up, near invisible against the black sky.

   ... WWWAAAAAAAOOOOOSSSSSHHH!!

    It's the loudest sound he's ever heard. The pain in his head climaxes. Peaks.

    He gasps. Shuts his eyes. Yells.

    Sound like an atom bomb.

    Car in motion. Losing consciousness.

    World spinning. Black twirling.

    Louder than life.

    Screaming. Losing grip.

    Steering wheel released. Gone off road.

    Car bouncing.

    Eyes shut.

    Dying.

    Crash.