S&S

He had completely lost consciousness for several long moments. A disturbing state overwhelmed his entire body. He felt disoriented. Uncertain visual and auditory fragments aggressively assaulted his mind’s eye. What had happened to him? How, where, and when did he get there? These, however, were questions whose answers would have to wait …. Regaining even a semblance of certainty would take some time.

As he began to awaken to reality, he became increasingly more aware of the dire situation he was actually in, he tried to move but couldn’t, something held him in place. He gradually started to emerge from what he initially hoped had been just a horrific nightmare, and was suddenly assailed by an over powering headache that, once realized, quickly coursed through his veins - like the venomous sting of a ravenous cobra - permeating his entire battered body, which now lay amidst the wreckage of the car.

The chaos of the circumstances of his crash was slowly coming back into focus as well. His primary senses gradually repainted the scenery around him, although deciphering their collective message was still challenging. One thing though, was certain, he was trapped inside the car.

His body started to emerge from its numbness, and with it, painful spasms assaulted him sporadically from every direction. From what he could tell, his leg was pinned - between the displaced driver’s seat and a panel of the car’s body, which had torn during the collision and was now pressing against his injured leg.

The will to move was there, but his body no longer heeded his commands. He looked forward through the cracked windshield at the leaden clouds about that seemed to have purposely halted their journey forward just to watch over him. He instinctively lowered his gaze to the rubble in front of him and glanced in the rear-view mirror to see if anyone was approaching the wreck from behind. Nobody was following him this time… Yet, through the shattered glass and his blurred vision, he could discern however the remnants of two figures - of differing sizes; strewn across the roadway. And scattered all around the car and road were only bits of flesh and wood and metal, which had once been horse and cart.

He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to him that he heard a cacophony of voices, resonating amongst the broken pieces of the car, as if vibrating through his bones and eyes. Deeper voices, then softer ones, intertwining in the morning silence, drawing closer and closer from an unknowable direction.

Suddenly, a deep male shout echoed clearer, slightly behind him. It was soon joined by other voices, at least two. Yes, he was certain now, he was no longer alone! He tried to scream for help but immediately choked on his own blood. He coughed several times and futilely attempted to move. He likely had a broken rib - or several …. The pain radiated throughout his body like choleric fever. The masculine voices behind him seemed to get ever closer, as if urging one another to hasten their pace up the road, from the fields around him.

He took a deep breath again - and exhaled. Inhaled once more, deeply with terrible difficulty and with the last bit of the strength he could muster, he pushed with his left shoulder against the car door, already partially ajar. It fell heavily to the ground, onto the asphalt, but the noise was imperceptible against the backdrop of desperate cries coming from behind the car.

The sun suddenly slapped him across the face with a burning ray of light … An intoxicating scent of damp greenery and fresh air swiftly filled his nostrils with hope. He almost forget about the surrounding chaos and the near - fatal accident that had just occurred. He looked over his shoulder towards the scene behind him. Those unfamiliar silhouettes on the ground remained oddly motionless, rooted in the same spot in the middle of the road - the fear of what might have happened grew heavier and more oppressive within him.

Through the gap where the door had fallen off, he spotted, from the left, several villagers approaching cautiously amidst the scattered remains of the cart - tall and thin figures, armed with pitchforks and axes. That they were villagers was merely a presumption, however - for as they drew closer still, he realized he was now facing a group of men unlike any he’d ever seen before. They wore clothing that wasn’t recognizably rustic or traditional, not in the Traditional sense, at least.

It was as if they hailed from another world or time, altogether.

He had seen old village attire on his grandparents, and their neighbours. On rare occasions, he had even glimpsed some type of traditional blouse, or a lamb fur hat, on the farmers selling vegetables in the town’s market. Yet, these people’s garments didn’t seem to align with any specific regional attire that he could recognize. They exuded a certain archaic demeanour, as well - a puzzling behaviour he couldn’t quite label with any terms from his unlaboured vocabulary. Savage might have been an appropriate descriptor for the strange men approaching from the hills, treading almost fearfully upon the asphalt, looking at it strangely - as if they’d seen it for the first time in their lives that day.

Some of them had gathered around the two figures lying in the middle of the road, murmuring anxiously over them. David watched in bewilderment and began to piece together the fragmented scenes from the crash, he had been speeding, eager to get home on time. Out of nowhere, as if sprouting from the earth itself, a horse - drawn cart appeared before him. He braked sharply at the last moment, but it was too late, the front of his car had violently lifted the cart ahead. The prominent rod of its axle pierced the windshield but, luckily, embedded itself only in the seat, narrowly missing his face. As the car slid underneath the cart, at high velocity, its exposed passengers were thrown about, colliding with each in mid-air. Time seemed to slow down incrementally, as he saw the frail body of a new-born child, plunging helplessly from another’s grasp - both eventually landing with a muted thud upon the asphalt behind him.

Suddenly, a sobering clarity washed over him. He halted the harrowing stream of memories that now made much more sense. The chronology of the accident and its tragic outcome was clear. He had braked too late, the high speed combined with the frailty of the cart in front of him had resulted in a violent collision. The cart’s passengers were flung backward over the car’s hood. The brakes didn’t hold for long, and the car must’ve travelled a good distance with the weight of the cart in front of it, leaving those bodies on the asphalt, behind him, visible now in the mirror only as vague reflection of what they had once been.

‘Look, she’s breathing, she’s breathing!’ he then heard an elderly voice exclaim, and for a moment, he shared with those villagers in the road a profound sense of relief, perhaps even a sense of joy or euphoria. The thought that maybe he had not killed them, after all, made him eager, once again, to move, to get out, to continue fighting for what he set out to do.

Through the side mirror he then spotted another man - carefully uncovering something else by the roadside, the man reached inside the ditch by the road and recovered yet another human figure, but much smaller than the rest. The man discreetly signalled to another, who quickly joined him. As soon as he saw the grim discovery, the man clasped his hands to his head, in evident despair. Then the wailing started …..

A wave of panic washed over the young man, still trapped in the car. He anxiously looked towards the rest of the crowd joining the two men. Lamentations began anew, and the resonant voices of clearly devastated men and women echoed through the sullen silence of the road.

I have to get out of here! He resolved, yet, even though the intent was there, his body still wouldn’t comply. He tried to move, but his injured leg resisted. Frustrated, he struck the body of the car that held his leg captive, managing to free up a bit of space in between. He banged on it as hard as he could to free himself up. However, the noise of his actions immediately drew the attention of the men in the road - who, presumably considering him already lost, given the car’s state, were clearly taken by surprise to find that there was still a person moving about through the rubble.

They all turned, in unison, towards the car, and David saw them more clearly at last. Their withered faces revealed how furious - yet also frightened - they all were. A dangerous combination, he thought instantly, as he desperately tried harder to free up his leg.

Seeing his efforts to extricate himself from the car, the villagers quickly reclaimed their tools dropped on the edge of the road. They exchanged unintelligible words amongst themselves and began approaching the car determinedly.

David tugged frantically at his trapped leg, swearing and cursing. Bitter tears, born of anxiety and fear, streamed from his eyes, wetting his arms and salting his open wounds. It’s no use…, he though resignedly, momentarily ceasing his desperate efforts to free himself.

In a fleeting moment of clarity, he quickly reached for his bag, hoping to grasp a revolver - he didn’t wish to harm them, but merely to keep them at bay. He could only hope that these wild men at least recognized the shape of a gun …and understood its lethal potential. If they had ever seen a firearm in their lives, they’d stand back, if not, he’d have no choice…But, deliberately, he had no intention of injuring anyone. After all, he had just witnessed earlier the devastating effects of a bullet... He did not want to be the cause of that for anyone else.

Yet, if ever cornered and compelled to defend his own life, he’d decidedly act… no matter who stood in his way!

The bag seemed so far away though… and the abrupt stretching of his body, from his crooked position towards the dashboard, felt as if it was causing a myriad of sharp and deep tears throughout his numbed body - as if every move he made tearing his flesh from the inside out, straining his atrophied muscles to their very limit of endurance.

Eventually reaching the bag, he managed to grab its open edge, emptying some of its contents onto the floor and the seat beside him. Stacks of travel cash and pieces of unassembled rifles scattered all over the car, but the revolver was the sole item from the bag that brought a slight glint of hope back into his eyes,

He quickly grasped it with his trembling hands and tried to load it. But it seemed too jammed - the first attempt and it was already stuck! Damned Bulgarian - made piece of shit! The young man cursed. He couldn’t believe it - but now was far too late for backup plans. Now he could only risk waving it around threateningly, hoping to scare or intimidate them. He had nothing left to lose….

The voices of the villagers were now closer to the car. His leg was nearly free, a massive hollow feeling grew in his stomach. The remaining strength that had kept him barely afloat seemed to be draining out of him as well. The pistol, gripped tightly, grew heavier in his hand and felt like it would soon slip through his numbed fingers, which were slowly slipping off their hold, voided of their vitality and the will to continue.

Come on! Come on, you can do this! He screamed internally, urging himself to move, trying to motivate himself to keep at it.

With a last reserve of strength, he reached outside the car, through the open space left by the fallen door. No sooner did he scramble out of the car, did he see the two men approaching him, two feet away from his face - pitchfork and axe at the ready.

Startled, he quickly lifted the revolver and aimed it at them - they stopped confused in their tracks. In a moment of panic, he tried to pull the trigger, but it was stuck - The safety, God Dammit! He removed the safety and rapidly pointed the gun back at them - yet, before he could definitely do something he would have surely regretted, he quickly glanced forward, over their shoulders - and spotted the unforeseen in the distance … Reality shortly confirmed it as well, with that familiar sound, echoing throughout, assuring him that it was not a dream, the siren grew louder, as the red and blue lights flickered through the mist - and then the police car was shortly in view, speeding towards them.

Weakened by the emotional turmoil, he almost dropped the revolver - he felt cornered and, at that moment, saw no other rational way out. The villagers too seemed momentarily distracted, alarmed by the approaching unfamiliar sound. They exchanged frightened glances among themselves. Making quick signs to each other, they soon took off, running straight down the middle of the road, disappearing into the horizon blurred by fog and the drooping tree branches on both sides.

If they find me here, I’m done for, David thought quickly, trying to maintain his composure. From behind, the sound of the police car grew louder - surely they had been tailing him all this time, David pondered, momentarily forgetting about the irate villagers and recalling only the Inspector. The bag filled with cash and weapons, the family waiting for him at home, relying on him, and all that damned money he would surely lose… He could not dwell on that now, though. He yanked at his trapped leg with the last ounce of strength he had left, finally freeing it for good - however, in doing so, he worsened the deep gash on his leg, which opened wider as he scraped his leg out of its metal prison. He took a momentary sigh of relief, but he knew he couldn’t linger for long, with the cop car approaching.

He finally tumbled out of the car. With his legs still numb, he took several deep breaths. He then reached inside to recover some of the stacks of cash scattered on the seat, quickly stuffing them into his pockets. He pulled the bag towards him, slinging it over his shoulder. He paused for a moment to consider the jammed revolver, and the uselessness of it, then carefully tucked it behind him, into his trousers.

He struggled to his feet and took a careful look around, behind him, the police car was slowing down as it approached the bodies strewn across the asphalt. The officers quickly exited the vehicle and shouted at him.

Stay where you are! Don’t move!

He quickly surveyed the landscape, behind him, the police car, Ahead, in the direction he had initially been travelling, he risked encountering those save villagers again. The wound was starting to assert its invasive presence more and more, dripping blood across the asphalt, the villagers were nowhere in sight….

However, to his right, beyond the dry, dormant field of dying vegetation, he could see a dense patch of forest, not too far off. He had to try, he had no other choice. If he managed to reach the forest, he could hide there, he could lose the police, at least for a while, and buy himself some time to think of an alternative way to get back.

Seeing no other option, he swiftly moved down from the road, passing by the car. He crossed the deep ditch by the road’s edge and then started running through the dried alfalfa field. He started slow at first, amidst the desperate shouts of the policemen urging him to stop, then, as he grew accustomed to the pain in his leg, he began to run, blindly, faster and faster, straight into the dark unknown….

" Wherever the bird with no feet flew, she found trees with no limbs."