Song of the Firebird

Thirty Four

After finishing a guest lecture in the University on the city outskirts, Kathir bid adieu to the Associate Professors in the Department of Youth Welfare and marched to his Pulsar. When he secured the helmet above his head, he heard the wall shake and break under a gigantic impact.

Kathir sped up to a safe distance and turned back to see the effect of the unknown force. He could see half of the lorry wedged into the campus walls and three men heaped on the ground. Insane, reckless driving was the first thing his mind could come up with. Before he could go closer to the wounded, men raced across him to check up on them. When he was about to think that the disaster was done for, the screams on the other side hadn't died.

The freshly secreted adrenaline in his body pushed him outside the campus gates towards the highway. In his line of sight, he could see two other lorries toppled, badly needing assistance. In a split second before his bike's indicator went off, a deafening crash occurred on the road to the city.

One look at the toppled vehicles and figuring that help had arrived, he switched off his bike's indicator signals and swept northbound to the newest collision. His heart almost pounded past his chest as he rode to the site of the crash. At the sight of another lorry, toppled again, he felt something amiss. Four lorries toppled on different sides. His mind screamed the word, 'planned', on repeat mode. He found a man and a girl, pooled in blood. Fighting the nausea, he lowered his frame to the ground to check their pulses. His fingers on their necks shivered at the low unsteady beats. Swearing aloud, he called the ambulance on instinct.

While on his call, he looked over to the crowd that gathered at the opposite side of the road. His fears swept past boundaries at the mere knowledge of more victims at the event of the planned commotion. Trying to subdue his distress, he clearly stated the pick up destination on the helpline. They hung up on him after getting the details.

Bracing himself for another one, he passed the narrow lawn separating both the sides of the road. On passing, he saw two similar motorcycle models sprawled across the road. Kathir saw broken baby toys under the plastic wrapping and a couple of clean Tupperware boxes. Looking once again at the Thunderbird, his heart skipped a beat. It seemed very familiar that he himself had seen it closely a lot of times in the last few weeks.

He gently shoved away the shoulders of the spectators, gaining access to a clearer look. With his every step forward, his mind grew restless. He could taste the bile behind his throat. He prayed that he didn't want to see anything familiar. When he came to the first line of the crowd, his knees gave out, making him kneel on the blood oozing out from his beloved rival.

Kathir was pulled into a void where he couldn't put any of his senses to use. His mind was struggling to clear the emotional mess, but with each try, things only got worse. In one way or the other, when they piled up on his vigilant self, he let out a piercing scream.

All the murmurs and pity around him stopped.

Pulling back his mortal self near to the unconscious body, he swiftly checked Jay's pulse. Present but slowing down. As Kathir cradled Jay's wounded torso, his tears poured on Jay's closed eyelids. Shaking himself along with Jay, Kathir screamed, 'Somebody, please get help! GET HELP! GET F*CKING HELP!'

As his voice pleaded and roared, the crowd began to show movements. They began to clear the way for sirens that filled the air, breaking past the heavy silence. Then came the seven ambulances. Kathir thanked the kind souls who beat him to it.

When Jay was about to be wheeled in by one of the paramedics, Kathir asked, 'I am a close friend of his. Which hospital are you taking him to? I will follow your lead.' His patience was lost a long time ago.