Hit And Run

Reads: 74  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
The title speaks for itself.

Submitted: March 08, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 08, 2017

A A A

A A A


Hit And Run

 

It was just another normal day in the town, a day just the same as thousands of others. Or so it had seemed. Mothers pushed buggies, held onto toddlers hands, watched carefully as children wandered off away from their sides. Older children walked together, chatting in groups or on their own. Some jostled each other good naturedly, joked, messed around. Some teenagers were gathered outside the cafe, while others pushed along the paths in a hurry to be......somewhere.

 

The traffic was steady, flowing easily apart from when the school bus stopped and caused a short-lived jam. One or two trucks were mixed in with five or six vans, but mostly the passing traffic consisted of cars. Big ones, small ones, fast ones and slow ones; just the average vehicles that you’d see on any town street.

 

There was not one thing that would mark the day out as different. The smells were the same, the sounds were the same – or at least they seemed to be. The first sense of something being ‘off’, not right, was the sound of the engine. It was roaring, approaching way too fast for the 30mph limit along this street.

 

Then there was the screech of brakes, the smell of hot rubber as the tyres resisted them, not ready or able to be slowed down. Everything began to seem as though it was going in slow motion. People jumped clear of the road, parents grabbed children, moved away from the kerbs. Drivers attempted to get out of the way, steering as near to the pavements as they could get. There was a clear path straight down the middle of the road.

 

The car came into view, smoke visible from the struggle between tyres and brakes. Still it did not slow. It took the centre line for a short distance then headed straight towards the cafe, ploughing into the group of teenagers that were gathered outside.

 

Even then it did not slow, but somehow managed to get back onto the road without crashing into the cafe or any other building. It had to have been deliberate. It could not have accidentally mounted the pavement at just that position, then got itself back on to the road, without the full concerntration of the driver.

 

The screams brought everything back to normal speed. There were people crying, children sobbing in their confusion; they knew something was wrong even if they were too young to understand what. Mobiles were brought out, calls were made. Some of the pedestrians and the drivers from parked cars braced themselves to approach the cafe. Nobody knew what they were going to find but the nearer they got the more easily they could tell that they would not find anything good.

 

Four bodies were on the ground, unmoving. Two girls sat among them, clearly injured but too stunned, too shocked to notice. One sat cradling another’s head, but it was obvious to the onlookers that it was all too late for the person on the ground. I watched it all from a safe distance, trembling, crying silent tears. I did not have the courage to make that approach myself.

 

Sirens could be heard in the distance. Police cars and ambulances came speeding up the street, but even in the emergency situation they were in, they were not travelling anywhere near the speed of that car. Several people stayed to talk to the officers while the ambulance crews got to work with their stretchers, their accident kits.

 

Nobody left, nobody walked away. Every single person was asked to give an account of what had happened, what they had seen. Some said the car was black, others said blue. Some said it was large, some kind of souped up vehicle, while others said it was just an average size, could be one of at least ten different models. Nobody had seen the licence number, if there had even been one.

 

It didn’t matter in the end because the car was discovered a couple of miles outside of town. It was burnt out, badly damaged. There would be no chance of recovering finger-prints from it. The owner would eventually be traced but police were convinced that it would have been stolen. They had no expectations of getting answers there.

 

The four deceased, three young guys and a girl were all seen as being ‘good’ kids. They had never been in any kind of serious trouble, either in school or with the law. There were no known links with drugs, or with crime of any kind, and their devastated parents knew of no enemies. They were left trying to understand the unexplainable.

 

For a while there was a distinct air of suspicion around town. It wasn’t like the car hadn’t seemed to not know where it was going. Somebody local, that’s what we all thought. There was whispering and gossip but no real suspects. Nobody actually went as far as to point the finger at anyone else. Either nobody knew or, more likely, nobody dared.

 

That was two years ago today. One of the victims was my brother, Ewan. He would have been eighteen. He died on his sixteenth birthday. I think I know what happened, who that driver was. But I dare not say. If I uttered just one single word of suspicion I know my life would be over at sixteen years of age too. And so I replay that incident over inside my head every single night, yet again experiencing the full horror of that moment. And I am condemned to living the rest of my life in silence and in guilt.


© Copyright 2018 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

More Other Short Stories

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by hullabaloo22

Popular Tags