Surviving Michael

by Birchall, Joseph

  It’s getting dark, and Danny sticks to the darker parts of the grass. As he gets closer, he crouches down and runs slowly until he’s about a hundred metres from the end of the runway, then lies face down on his stomach.

  ‘Now what?’ Liam asks.

  ‘We wait,’ I say.

  ‘No need,’ Charlie says and points to the lights of a plane approaching the airport.

  A Ryanair plane swoops down, and we see its landing gear being lowered.

  ‘Is he not supposed to stand up?’ Charlie asks.

  ‘He will,’ I tell him, ‘but he has to wait until the plane is over him. Otherwise the pilot will see him.’

  ‘So?’ Liam says.

  ‘So then the cops will be here before the plane even reaches the end of the runway,’ I say. ‘Besides it’s the thermals at the back of the plane that’ll lift him into the air.’

  ‘You seem to have put a lot of thought into this,’ he says, but his accusing tone is interrupted by the noise of the approaching plane.

  When the jet’s lights hit him, Danny looks like a black bag lying in the grass. The noise must be tremendous, as I see him raise his hands from his sides and cover his ears. For a moment, I hope that he just lies there and lets the plane fly over him, but he doesn’t.

  ‘Here we go,’ says Charlie and puts his face closer to the fence.

  Danny is on all fours as the plane flies over him and then jumps quickly to his feet. He’s timed it well and is standing up when the engines are above him.

  Not sure what to expect, I grip the metal fence tighter and hold my breath. As if someone were standing in front of him and gave him a hard shove backwards, Danny falls back quite hard onto the ground.

  ‘Is that it?’ Liam asks after a few moments.

  We all stare out at Danny, still on the ground.

  ‘What was supposed to happen again?’ Charlie asks mockingly.

  ‘Shut up for a minute,’ I tell them, but with relief we see Danny’s head lean forward and then his upper body sit up.

  ‘Well, at least he tried,’ Charlie says. ‘He can always say he gave it a go.’

  ‘You said he’d fly up off the ground,’ Liam says, genuinely annoyed.

  ‘Well, he didn’t,’ I tell him.

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ he says, ‘can we go get something to eat then?’

  I walk back to the car, and Liam follows me.

  ‘At least me jacket’s in one piece,’ he says.

  ‘Wait a second,’ Charlie says, still at the fence, ‘where’s Danny going?’

  Charlie

  I REMEMBER this time when we were kids, or teenagers, and Radio Nova was giving away free tickets to some concert in town. I think it was for Bon Jovi. You had to be the tenth caller in or something like that. We were sitting in Danny’s dad’s car outside his house, and we all got out and ran up to the phone box on the corner. I started dialing but kept getting the engaged tone, then Nick grabbed the phone and tried. No luck. Then Liam, but no joy either. Then Danny tried. And then he tried again. And again. He just kept calling and calling. It was freezing out and after a while, we all said we were going home, but he still kept trying to ring. Later on, his mam came out looking for him and found him in the phone box still ringing. He just wouldn’t give up. The funny thing is, I fucking hate Bon Jovi.

  Still crouching down, we can see Danny move closer to the edge of the runway. It’s hard to tell if he’s lying on the grass or on the actual tarmacadam as he’s slipped out of sight again.

  ‘This is crazy,’ I say.

  Liam has his phone pointing out to where Danny is.

  ‘I’ll call him,’ Nick says, ‘Liam, stop recording, and try to phone him.’

  I continue looking out at Danny, but when I don’t hear them phoning him, I turn to look at Nick and Liam. They’re both staring off to my right, and Liam actually has his mouth open with the expression of an actor from a 1960’s science fiction movie. A giant plane is descending ever so slowly from the horizon. The three of us watch it glide down and grow larger and larger. It’s, at first anyway, quieter than the other planes, and gives the impression that it’s flying in slow motion, or that any moment it will just drop on its belly to the ground. Four huge engines roar at us, like a whale booming its mating cry. I look over at Danny and can see his head lift to see this monster charging towards him.

  ‘Stay down,’ I yell to Danny, but with the blasts from the engines now, I doubt if even Liam or Nick can hear me.

  I shake my head in disbelief as Danny raises himself up on all fours. The lights from the jet light him up and I can see Liam’s oversized jacket on him start to flap about. He just manages to get to his feet at the same time as the nose of the aircraft passes over his head. It’s like a fucking office building on its side being thrown down the runway. He raises his arms out sideways, crucifixion style, and looks up as the belly of the plane goes over him. The landing gear must be about twenty feet above his head. As the tail of the plane passes him, Danny stands upright. We can see him lower his head and then turn towards us, as if to say, ‘is that it?’ Then, as if he were hooked to an elastic band or a reverse bungee rope, he shoots off the ground and propels about thirty feet into the air. He seems to hit a glass ceiling because his body flips sideways and flies another twenty feet to the right before diving head first towards the runway. At no more than three feet from splitting his head, he (or I mean his body, because it’s obvious that he has zero control of his movements) flips over and rockets back upwards before once again ricocheting off an invisible wall that sends him downwards. He must have gained some control because at that point he puts his arms around his head in an instinctive attempt at self-protection. Two feet from the ground, his body straightens and bounces up and down several times as if he were on a trampoline until eventually from about five feet in the air, this invisible bungee cord snaps, and gravity, unhappy with Danny’s previous defiance, smashes him into the ground. This time he bounces no more than a few inches and doesn’t move.

  Like a loud radio that was incessantly being played in the background and was switched off, the evening air becomes silent and calm again. Everyone is breathing heavily, but we don’t move. All eyes stare out at the black lump lying motionless in the grass.

  I stretch up and grab a hold of the fence, and try to pull myself up, but my shoes won’t grip the fence.

  ‘Help me,’ I yell at Nick, and he makes a cup shape with his hands. I put my foot into his hands and haul myself up the fence.

  ‘Hold on,’ Liam shouts.

  ‘What is it?’ Nick says and lets go off me, leaving me hanging from the top of the fence.

  ‘He moved,’ Liam says, ‘I think he moved.’

  I drop back to the ground. ‘Are you sure?’ I ask.

  ‘I didn’t see anything,’ Nick says.

  I reach up for the fence again, but then I see Danny’s right hand move slowly off the grass and then touch his head. We all hold our breaths. Then his left arm moves to the side of his body, and he lifts his head and moves it from side to side. Supporting himself with his elbows, he sits up, and then jumps up onto his feet. We explode with delight as we see him limping as fast as he can in our direction. When he gets to the fence and climbs over, he seems genuinely surprised when we all grab him and jump up and down, cheering.

  It’s been a long, long time since the five of us, I mean the four of us, were so genuinely ecstatic together. Not since we were kids and Ray Houghton headed the ball past Peter Shilton in the Euro Finals in Stuttgart in 1988.

  He can be a lucky bastard sometimes, Danny. Even with his limp and all. That night when we first met Ruby, I was the one who spotted her first. And when I heard her American accent, I thought it was dead sexy. She told me she was from California and I told her that she didn’t look like a Californian. Either way, I would have put money on me taking her home till she starts talking to Danny and then leaves me high and dry. I’ll never forgive him for that. There aren’t too many birds who look like
her and are sound as well. I should know. My dream is to have two girlfriends who are also into each other and the three of us can share a house. It’s not as easy to find as you might think. For now, I’d settle for a gorgeous babe who’s also a bit of craic. That’s what Danny has and he doesn’t even know it. It’s like I’ve been playing the lottery for the last twenty years and he wins it on his first try. Looks now like he’s lost all of his winnings. It can happen to the best of us. Sorry, mate.

  Danny

  NOW IT WAS my turn to insist that they follow through with their consequences for the dare. It being Sunday evening, the two lanes of traffic aren’t as busy as you’d expect. We drove to the Tallaght exit of the M50 and now stand side by side on the hard shoulder watching the sporadic flashes from the headlights of the cars. It’s only when you stop do you notice how fast everything is going by.

  That noise. That rush of sound. Ever growing and then blasting in your face. Then fading and gone. The ephemeral sound of speeding metal as it punches through the air. Like being at a race track. A guaranteed death almost as quick as a bullet if you were to step into that sound’s path. All the years I listened to it. Dreaded it. And then created it.

  It was a Sunday as well when I had my big crash. I told all the doctors, the investigators, my parents and anyone who asked that I blanked out. Possible memory loss from the accident, they said, and I nodded. But I remember. I remember everything.

  It was near the end of the season. All my dad talked about was the next season. Improving the car. We’ll do better, he said. We’ll try harder, he said. ‘We’? I couldn’t face it. Another year? I was struggling to cope with each weekend. Each race. Now another year seemed insurmountable. An insurmountable wall.

  I dropped back down the field. 5th. 7th. 10th. I could see him in the pits screaming. Going mental. When I reached the end of the straight, something inside of me just gave up. I didn’t steer the car into the wall. I just let go. Relaxed my grip. I quit. And for that second or two, it felt so good. There was silence. I wanted to destroy the car. To put it out of its misery. So I just let go.

  I hit the wall. I ended it all. Ended its despair and gloom and smashed into my insurmountable wall. My dad had always told me to be one with my car, and for those few moments before the crash, I finally bonded with it. Two inmates. Two allies. Holding hands as we jumped off the cliff.

  A rackety old truck shrieks by and breaks me out of my daydream, and then fades away.

  ‘They’re going very fast, aren’t they?’ Liam says. We all turn and look at him.

  ‘So who’s going first?’ I ask them.

  ‘I’m not,’ Charlie says quickly.

  ‘Well, I’m fucking not either,’ Liam says.

  ‘Come on,’ Nick says, taking a last drag from his cigarette, ‘we’ll all go together.’

  ’We’re all going to die together,’ Liam says.

  Nick had explained to us in the car on the way here - ‘It’s very simple, lads. We each have to walk from one exit of the M50 to the next. It’ll be about a mile walk. But not on the hard shoulder. We have to walk in the middle of the motorway. Along the white dotted line. Against the direction of the traffic.’

  ‘Will we run?’ Charlie asks.

  ‘Run where?’ Nick says.

  ‘If we run through the traffic instead of walking. Does that count?’

  ‘That’s worse,’ Nick says. ‘Come on, we’ll walk quickly.’

  There’s a break in the traffic and without another word, Nick steps out into the slow lane. Charlie and Liam, like two children clinging to their mother in heavy rain, cower behind him. Almost immediately, a car starts flashing his lights at them as he passes them in the fast lane.

  ‘Fast lane,’ Nick calls out, and they shuffle into the next lane, Charlie and Liam following like the carriages of a train. A van blasts his horn and flashes his lights at them as it passes by.

  The road seems clear, and I hear Nick call out, ‘come on, faster. There’s nothing coming.’

  I follow them, walking along the hard shoulder as they quicken their pace. I can see a single headlight charging towards them.

  ‘Slow lane,’ Nick calls and they sidestep to the right as the bike whizzes by them.

  A car, not too far behind the bike, starts flashing his lights at them.

  ‘Car,’ Nick yells. With that, Liam, his head still buried behind Charlie’s jacket, steps to his left. Charlie grabs him and pulls him back, just as the car flashes by within a few inches of him.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Charlie screams at him.

  ‘He said there was a car coming,’ he yells back, pointing at Nick.

  ‘I didn’t say to change lanes,’ Nick shouts.

  Liam’s face is flushed red. ‘Just hurry fucking up, will you? We’re not out here for a Sunday stroll.’

  ‘How can I go any faster with you two hanging onto me,’ Nick yells at him.

  A car races past them and blows his horn.

  ‘I’m just saying to walk a bit faster.’

  ‘Do you want to go first, then?’ Nick says.

  A van moves from the slow lane into the fast lane to avoid them.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ Liam says, ‘just put a bit of pace into it, will you?’

  ‘Right then,’ Nick says, and walks behind both of them. ‘You fucking lead.’

  Charlie, now in front, screams at both of them. ‘Shut the fuck up the two of you,’ he yells as another motorbike flies by. ‘Now, come on,’ and he turns as if leading a troop into battle.

  ‘Fast lane,’ he calls out and they dutifully follow as he quickens his pace.

  They move from left to right a few times, like advancing soldiers on a battlefield.

  ‘Slow lane,’ Charlie orders. Another car shoots by.

  I see the truck before they do. A massive thing. It has a slanted roof on the cabin and has lights, like fairy lights, running along every edge of its front. It doesn’t even look like it will fit under the bridge.

  Charlie sees it and orders them to switch lanes.

  Only then did I see the second truck overtaking it, and moving even faster. They switch lanes again, but the driver must have seen them as he starts furiously flashing his headlights at them.

  One of them blares his air horns at them and the original truck slams on his brakes and smoke comes off his back tyres. It didn’t have much effect, as both trucks are now head to head looming down on them like wild animals running side by side.

  Charlie, Liam and Nick freeze. They have moved into the centre of the road and seem unable to move. I try to shout at them. To tell them to get off the road, but I’ve no voice. Panic has overtaken us all. They hold on to each other as if they’re falling off a cliff.

  Both trucks blare their horns again in unison. Charlie starts to scream, and then they all start screaming. The scream rises and seems to come from some primordial place inside of them.

  The full force of the trucks’ lights turns the road into daylight. All of their mouths are open and their eyes closed. It looks like a photograph. All three of them caught in a camera’s flash.

  Then a torrent of noise and darkness, as if they stepped through a waterfall and into a cave with only the sound of the crashing water still audible. Both trucks flash by them on either side, like freight trains, in what only lasts for a few seconds but feels like a full minute.

  I instinctively cover my face with my hands. When the trucks have passed there is a disturbed stillness in the air, like someone has slammed a door in your face. I open my eyes to see the three of them still clinging to each other tightly, and more embarrassingly, still screaming their heads off. I feel faint, and allow myself to fall backwards onto the grass verge.

  They limp their way off the motorway, and Charlie drops down beside me. Liam is still gripping Nick. He turns and pushes Liam away, and Liam steps back, a little embarrassed. Charlie looks at them and starts to smile. Nick takes out a cigarette and with a shaking hand, lights it.

  ‘I�
��m going back to the car,’ Liam says, breaking the silence, but when he starts to move, his legs don’t budge. He falls forward onto the road and cracks his head off the ground.

  ‘Owwww,’ he yells out and puts his hands to his head.

  Ruby

  THE BOISTEROUS MEN, mostly single, are starting to peter out slowly after a day of watching sports and drinking. I hate this shift. I hate their eyes on me. Their barbaric questions. Their banal comments. Their insinuating smirks. They are steadily being replaced by couples with expressionless faces sitting side by side; taciturn until after their second drink.

  There must be a word when we feel a multitude of emotions at the same time. If there is I don’t know what it is, but that’s exactly how I feel when I see Danny walking through the door. Relief, fear, anger, joy, love, sadness, hope, despair. And all at the same moment. Like different fruit sprouting from the same branch of a tree.

  I had this image in my head of him sitting alone somewhere, so I’m surprised to see Nick, Liam and Charlie walking in after him. It was only when he’s sitting down that I notice their blond hair and the cuts and bruises on their faces. The other three are talking in whispers among themselves, but Danny is staring down the other end of the bar. I know what he’s looking at before I even lean forward to confirm that it’s Ricky.

  I love working with Ricky, but I know that our comfort around each other sometimes pisses Danny off. Ricky can be very tactile, and it doesn’t help being squeezed behind such a small bar for a ten-hour shift. Ricky loves women and women love Ricky, but once a girl is ‘off the market’ as he calls it, then that’s it for him. Charlie says that when an average looking guy goes out with a beautiful girl, most of them can’t handle it as there’s a perpetual streak of jealousy that’s aggravated whenever a younger, better looking or funnier guy gets her attention for even a moment.

  Always a girl to grab the bull by the horns, I walk straight over to them. As I approach the table, I hear Nick ask Liam what they’re supposed to do with a penguin once they have it. I imagine it’s some euphemism for drugs and hope Danny hasn’t gone down this road.