Fifteen Feet Ahead

Chapter II

Hey again, I give you chapter II, let me know what you think.

Xx Audrey

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Chapter II
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Before I even realized it, we were feet from the YMCA, just halfway through our race.

That's when it happened. I didn't think much of it then, how everything leads to another, how my life would be so different now if Duncan hadn't fallen off his bike that day.

Remember when I was saying I was good at predicting the future? We were just about to make the halfway turn, when I got a terrible sudden gut feeling, like a million little termites eating away at my stomach lining. Something bad was about to happen.

"Duncan," I called to him, using my most serious tone.

"Yah Randy, if you think you're gotta try to trick me to slow down you're wrong!" He screamed, and pedaled faster, turning around on to the second half of our race.

"Duncan!" I yelled louder. "Listen to me! I have this bad feel--,"

"Ha. Ha. Nice try!" His voice became more and more clear as the rain slowed and the thunder stopped. Obviously and ironically, I had picked up the pace in order to keep screaming to him to slow down.

It took only a minute or two. I watched as my best friend rode his bicycle through a half foot puddle, and straight into a pothole.

Now, Duncan had ridden into countless potholes as a kid, but never one so deep, never one in the rain, never one that sent him flying over his handle bars.

Everything seemed to be put in slow motion. His front tire smacked the rim of the hole. His bike went from about thirty miles an hour to zero in less than a second, and it crashed on its left side. Due to inertia, his body was still traveling at thirty, sending him flipping over his handle bars and smacking the hard black pavement. Thud.

I used to and sometimes even now I can still hear that thud over and over in my nightmares, bones shattering and crunching. Just the thought of it gives me the chills.

There was the thud, and then there was screaming of all the cuss words you could think of.

"Fuck! Oh my fucking god! Holy shit! Fuck!"

My eyes widened to the point where they burned. I skidded to a stop, and I threw my bike on the curb, sprinting to Duncan. I got on my knees and looked down at him as he was rolling and spazzing on the road. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and at that time it was the worst condition I've ever seen my best friend in. He was obviously soaked from head to toe with rainwater, so was I, but he was also soaked with blood. It spattered all over the street, in his clothes, and in his hair. His entire left side was covered in gushing scrapes, and his left ankle and lower leg appeared almost deformed.

I just had to stay calm and remember what I learned in CPR class. Obviously he had several fractures in his leg, and was losing a lot of blood. But I knew that the bleeding was the least of my concerns because they were only scrapes, not arteries. He was clearly conscious; His constant cussing and screaming reminded me that. I had to get him to settle down.

"Duncan, you need to listen to me. You need to try to calm down." I tried not to sound panicked, but I choked on every word because my heart and mind were racing faster than ever before.

Before I did anything else, I took our bicycles and stood them in the middle of the road, one on either side of us. That way cars would stop and not run us over.

I quickly crouched back down beside him, and said, "Duncan, you're going to be okay. Everything's alright. You didn't hit your head, you just landed pretty badly on your leg. You're going to be okay."

I got him to stop spazzing and screaming, but he still had the occasional 'fuck' from under his breath. I think he was getting used to the pain.

"I'm--I'm--sor--sorry," he weeped.

"Shh," I knew that the first thing I was supposed to do was call 911, but of course neither of us brought our cell phones.

"I--I--should of listened. I fucked up, Ra--Randy. I'm--I'm so stupid."

"Yeah, you did, and you are. Now shut up, I'm thinking." I was shaking too. I didn't really know what to do. How would I get him home? "Could you rate your pain? Ten being the worst pain you've ever experienced... And... it's just in your leg right?"

"I--dunno, a nine--a nine point two ," His body shook like an old man with Parkinson's. "And--and it's just my lower leg. Well mostly, b-but the rest is just bruises."

"Good, I think I could safely move you."

"Huh?"

"On to a bike, and then I can walk you home," I stood up and grabbed my bicycle, "but you're going to have to help me out a little."

"O-okay,"

I walked my bike closer to where he was laying, parked it there, and I sat back down beside him again. I'd seen Duncan through every possible condition you could imagine, the good and bad, but now he looked the most disgusting, more disgusting than normal. The blood remained wet due to the continued steady rain fall. It stained his blue Adidas t-shirt, and his once white basketball shorts were tye-dyed with the brown mud and red blood.

"You think you could stand up?"

"Uh no," he snorted.

"But with my help?" He didn't look too enthused, but still nodded.

Now, you have to remember that Duncan was at least forty or fifty more pounds than me. He didn't used to be, we were nearly the same size our entire childhoods. It wasn't until about a year and a half ago that Duncan grew an entire head taller than me and had an appetite that would eat through everything in MY fridge.

Both of us seemed to have finally calmed down. Neither of us were shaking anymore, but Duncan made sure that I knew he was still in pain.

"Alright," I sighed. "Here, I'll help you sit up."
I reached behind his neck, and my hand inched its way down his spine. It was wet with mud, rain, and even blood.

"Thanks, but there's no need to baby me, Randy," He snarled, sitting up without my assistance. "I can sit up."

I rolled my eyes, and I couldn't help but smile a little, "Okay, now I'll help you stand up on your right leg."

He put his left arm around my shoulder, and I grabbed his other hand.

"Ready? One. Two. Three," I whispered and used every muscle in my body to yank him up onto his right foot.

"Mahhh," he moaned a little.

"Shh, I know it hurts, but you're gonna be fine. Just a few more feet." Together, we hobbled over to my bicycle. Getting him onto the seat, now this was the tricky part. He moaned and yelped, as I slowly let him sink into the triangular seat, and he screeched like a little girl when he pulled his injured leg over to the opposite pedal.

But soon enough, Duncan was safely sitting in my bicycle seat. I grabbed onto both handle bars and kicked up the metal kickstand that had held the vehicle in place.

"Jesus Christ, you should lay it off the sour cream and onion chips," I joked as I as began to walk him home.

We walked home on the sidewalks for most of the time. We didn't talk about what happened. Actually, we didn't talk at all.

I knew it, but I'm not sure that Duncan did. I knew that he could've died that day. He could've easy cracked his skull open. He could've had permanent brain damage. He was so lucky that day.

We were almost back to his house, when he asked, "Wait, what about my bike?"

"I'm sure your mom will drive you back later to get it." I laughed nervously, I had not even thought about what his mom would have to say about all this.

"My mom," Duncan tensed. "Oh shit. Randy, we're screwed."

"I know. She should be getting home in about an hour."

"Oh man, oh god, we're dead."

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