A cold wind pressed against the windscreen and Jack leaned back in the passenger seat, earbuds pulsating heavy metal music.
Rain slicked the winding country road ahead.
Behind the wheel, Ant’s grip was too tight and his grin too wide; his eyes darted between the road and the dashboard’s glow. Terrified, Jack tapped his phone searching WhatsApp to distract him from Ant’s jittery energy.
It had been a terrific party, but now at 4 AM, the pals had to get back to town. Ant’s widowed mother would be distressed if she woke to find her only child had not been home.
A sudden swerve tore Jack’s attention back to his pal. Ant’s pupils were unfocused and wild. The steering wheel wobbled under his fingers as he muttered words Jack couldn’t make out. His every movement screamed danger: this wasn’t the confidence of a fast driver but the unpredictability of a madman detached from reality.
Jack’s thumb hovered over the screen before he typed a rapid message to his friend Trent: ‘Something’s wrong with Ant. He’s high. I’m scared.’ His heart thundered in his chest, each beat reminding him how little control he held. Outside, a distant horn blared as another car braked hard.
Rubber screamed against wet tarmac. Jack’s phone flew from his grasp. Headlights spun. In an instant, their world snapped shut.
Silence reclaimed the night. Rain washed over broken glass and twisted steel. No sirens came until too late. Two lives were lost in a single heartbeat’s hesitation.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 