Another Life Altogether: A Novel - By Elaine Beale Page 0,102
Stan and Greg and Tracey and how they guzzled it down and spat out meanness, and I considered tossing the bottle into one of the surrounding fields. But I decided against this and slid the bottle back into my pocket. I simply stood there, taking in the wide-open emptiness of the dark. In the stillness, I became aware of the sound of the sea—the waves lifting, churning, falling, as if the world itself were breathing slow and sleepy breaths. The whispery roar made me think about Malcolm and how by now he was probably tucked under blankets in his little caravan being soothed by that steady sound of the sea.
It was then that I heard a harsh buzz, as incongruous as the drone of a fat summer bluebottle fly in this winter landscape. It was the sound of a motorbike and it came closer, growling around the curves behind me until its headlamp swept up from the bend in the road, illuminating a narrow swath of yellow. Then I heard a voice, shrieking higher than the buzz of the bike, echoing out across the snow-sheened fields.
“Stop! Stop!” It was Amanda.
But the bike didn’t stop. It seemed to speed up, charging forward like a raging insect. I could clearly see its silhouette and its two riders—the driver, Stan, leaning far down and forward, while Amanda, the passenger, held on tightly and kept screaming, “Stop, stop!” at the top of her lungs.
Just before it reached me, the bike came to a particularly tight bend in the road. It was the sort of bend that, even in the daylight in the best of conditions, a vehicle would have to slow down to take. Now, with the snow and the darkness, it was a bend that it was easy to miss until you came upon it. And that, it seemed, was exactly what happened.
I watched it all as if in slow motion. The bike jerking when Stan leaned his body backward as if he were trying to pull up a galloping horse, straining against the strength of the unruly animal he rode. Then the wheels of the bike slipping sideways, out from under them, the bike sliding fast and gracelessly, while Amanda and Stan were tossed in a high, tumbling arc, into the ditch at the side of the road.
Without a thought, I ran to them. I found Amanda lying on her back, arms splayed, crucifixion style, legs tucked up toward her body. “Are you all right? Are you all right?” I called, frantic. I leaned down, my breath clouding the air between us. I looked into her face under the big bulb of her helmet and saw that her eyes were wide and still. She said nothing and seemed not to be breathing.
Then she groaned, thumping one of her outstretched fists against the snow. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she said. “What a bloody idiot.” Then she struggled to push herself up from the ground. I reached out to help her, but she seemed oblivious and so, still leaning over her, I was almost bashed in the head by her helmet as she abruptly sat up. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I was walking home. My dad forgot to pick me up.”
“Oh.” She sat with her legs splayed out in front of her, like a doll set upright in the snow.
“Are you all right?” I asked again.
“Me?” She looked along the length of her arms, body, and legs, slowly examining herself. “Yeah, I think so. Can you give me a hand?”
“Are you sure you can get up?” I was concerned. She had landed with considerable force.
“Yeah, come on, Jesse.” She reached out and I took her gloved hands and pulled her upward. She winced but made it to her feet. “Thanks,” she said, swaying unsteadily before gaining her balance. She brushed the snow from her coat and took a couple of shaky steps forward.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
She paused, sighed, and then moved forward again. “Yeah, I’m okay. Where’s Stan?” I pointed to where he lay, a few feet away. I followed her as she stumbled toward him. He, too, had been flung from the bike to lie on his back and was staring wide-eyed at the sky. As I looked down on him, I felt a little quiver of excitement at the thought that he might be dead.
“Are you all right, Stan?” Amanda asked, wavering back and forth a little as she stood over him.