by JD Nixon
He took me seriously and his voice was tense and grave when he spoke, which made me even more nervous. “I’m deploying some men immediately. Don’t stop under any circumstances. Keep driving. Stay on the main roads. I can track your vehicle from here.” A pause. “Please take care, my sweet.”
I tried not to worry, knowing that some backup was coming, but it was unsettling to know that someone was following you and not knowing who or why. I briefly wondered if they’d followed us to the shopping centre as well. I hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary on the trip there or while we were shopping. But then I hadn’t really been paying any attention either.
“They’re still there, Tilly,” worried Niq, checking his side mirror.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I soothed. “Heller is sending some men right now. They’ll be with us soon. You’ll be back home showing Daniel the things you bought before you know it.”
I merged onto the freeway and for once I didn’t mind the heavy traffic. It made me feel safer travelling with the crowd. I wished my whole trip was on the freeway, but we had to exit after five minutes to follow our route home. The sedan exited also, trailing us. I sped up a bit, trying to put some distance between us. It sped up as well. My eyes darted between the rear view mirror and the windscreen.
“Keep a look out for our guys,” I asked Niq. “They should be here any second.”
I zipped down a minor arterial road, not caring if I was pulled over for speeding. That would be absolutely perfect as far as I was concerned. I would have welcomed the sight of flashing blue and red lights at that point in time, and would have gladly paid the fine with a dazzling smile. Unfortunately though, we hit one of those bizarre patches where there was no traffic around. The street was deserted, both sides of the road. I glanced in the rear view mirror and noticed an arm appearing out of the front passenger window.
“Niq!” I screamed, leaning over to push unkindly on his head. “Get down, now!” He ducked low in his seat just as a bullet shattered the back window. I sped up even faster, my speed moving into the reckless section of the speedometer.
The next shot almost made me lose control, smashing through the car into the rear view mirror. The exploding glass caused me to involuntarily jerk the steering wheel in fright, and the car swerved dangerously close to the curb before I was able to regain control. I searched desperately for a side street, but the road was a long straight arterial between two major suburbs, surrounded by scrub, with no deviations and no houses anywhere close. I sank low in my seat, but that only made it even more difficult for me to steer, especially at high speed. I weaved the car unpredictably to make it harder to aim at us, but decided that was making the trip even more treacherous for us both.
I felt the third bullet whiz past my head. It shattered the windscreen. I couldn’t see out. I tried to do what I’d seen Heller do once and punch out the broken glass with my fist, but I only managed to make a small opening. I couldn’t see enough of the road to drive safely at the speed I was going.
“Niq! Help me!” I shouted and he frantically began to pound on the shattered glass as well, trying to create an opening. But the fourth bullet caught Niq in the hand he had raised to punch the windscreen and he screamed in agony at the pain, blood splattering the interior of the car. He began to cry with fear and shock, our faces speckled with his blood.
“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay, sweetie,” I chanted in sobbing panic, my hands slick with nervous sweat on the steering wheel. Niq whimpered in pain, huddled into the corner of his seat. I wanted to reach over to console him, but I needed both hands on the steering wheel if we were going to get through this alive.
I managed to continue to punch at the windscreen, my fist running with blood, until there was a larger space cleared. But I knew desperately there was nothing else I could do except stop the car or I’d end up killing the both of us. I stepped on the brakes slowly, steering the car as best I could through the hole in the windscreen. The car slowed down and the black sedan gained on us.
But without warning, I lost control. The car veered dangerously to the left and I tried to steer it to the right, wrenching the wheel all the way. It didn’t respond. We jumped the curb and I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The brakes locked up and we skidded, crashing headlong into a two-metre high concrete retaining wall, the airbags inflating immediately.
Everything was a blur after that. It was quiet after the impact, almost peaceful, the only sound a rhythmic pinging noise and a gentle hissing from the crushed engine. When I looked over at Niq, he was limp and unconscious, unnaturally sprawled against his door, blood pouring from his head and his hand, the airbag pressing up against him. I tried to undo my seatbelt so I could drag him from the car, but I couldn’t seem to think straight. My arms wouldn’t do what I wanted them to and I drifted into unconsciousness.
I woke up again in a panic. Niq! I turned towards him, managing this time to undo my seatbelt and reach for him. There was blood everywhere. He wasn’t moving. But I wasn’t either I soon realised, as I attempted to shift in my seat.
“Niq!” I screamed, stretching over painfully to shake him. “Niq!”
He didn’t respond. His body was floppy and lifeless. I rolled my head in slow motion to the other side and thought to myself that I had to get out of the car and find some help, but I couldn’t seem to move. People peered at me in horror, tapping on my window and talking distraughtly into their mobile phones, one man even attempting to pry open my crumpled door. Then I was gone again, slumped over in the seat.
The next time I surfaced, there were people in uniform all over us. Lots of flashing lights. It was night time by then and the flashing lights in their beautiful colours set off a strobe effect in the car – red, blue, orange and yellow. It was as though I was in a nightclub – the Extreme Pain Club – very exclusive, but where nobody was able to dance because of their excruciating hurting. I giggled hysterically at the thought. Was I still alive? I wasn’t sure anymore.
I was contorted like a pretzel. My left knee was jammed up around my ear. The dashboard was crushed around it, trapping my left arm, the airbag a tattered balloon. The steering wheel had impacted into my stomach at a bizarre angle. Everyone was talking at once. There was a lot of shouting going on. My head lolled back on the seat and I blinked, trying to focus on a good-looking but grim man who was working determinedly to get me out of the car. My eyes were sticky and blurry and I blinked repeatedly, raising my free hand slowly to my face to wipe them clear. When I brought it away, it was dripping with blood.
“Not me. Get Niq. Please. He’s hurt,” I begged the man urgently in a weak voice. I limply clutched his arm with my bloody hand, looking up at him with desperation in my eyes before sinking away again.
The next time I came to, I was out of the car lying down somewhere, maybe on a stretcher. People were leaning over me, talking about me, touching me, doing invasive things to me. I stared up at the stars for an instant then suddenly tried to sit up, shoving everyone away from me.
“What about Niq?” I shouted at them, hysterical with panic and pain. “What the hell’s the matter with you people? Forget about me! Get Niq out of the car! He’s hurt! Why isn’t anyone listening to me?”
Then there were soothing voices and hands pushing me back down. I thought I glimpsed Heller in the crowd, but his face was so haggard and bleak that I thought I must be mistaken.
I didn’t remember anything else for a long time.
~~~~~~
My eyes fluttered open. It was semi-darkness and I had no idea where I was. I looked around, but nothing seemed familiar. Nothing except the much-loved person sitting in the corner, slumped fast asleep in an uncomfortable chair, head leaning against the wall.
“Mum,” I croaked weakly. It felt like I hadn’t spoken for a while. Her eyes flew open instantly. The joy that infused her face at the sound of my voice made me cry. She rushed over and hugged me tightly, careful of the tubes that poked out
of every part of me.
“Don’t cry, darling. Mum’s here,” she soothed, cradling me tenderly and stroking my hair, tears pouring down her own cheeks.
I kept crying for a while. I was in so much pain. “What happened?”
“You were in a terrible car accident. You’ve been unconscious in hospital for a week. You’ve had some operations.” The tears fell even more heavily from her eyes. She was finding it hard to speak. “We didn’t think you were going to make it, my darling baby. But the doctors are now telling us that you’re going to be okay. Eventually.”
“I’m so tired,” I murmured and drifted off again, comforted by her gentle touch.
When I woke up again I was panicked, back in the car. I sat up violently, accidently ripping tubes out of my arm and causing stabbing pain in my abdomen. Alarms started beeping urgently.
“Niq!” I screamed, looking around blindly in fright. “Where’s Niq?”
Strong arms circled me and I heard Heller’s comforting voice. “He’s safe, Matilda. He’s in another room. You can see him soon.”
“It’s all my fault,” I confessed groggily and started crying, clinging to him.
“It’s not your fault. Please don’t cry, my sweet,” he murmured, kissing my forehead. He had to move away then as a team of nurses rushed in to give me an injection of something and started to reattach my tubes. I kept my eyes on Heller while they worked on me. He looked awful, far from his normal immaculate self. His clothes were rumpled as if he’d slept in them and he was unshaven, with tired red-rimmed eyes. Our eyes were locked together as I drifted away again.
Will was sitting on the chair in the corner when I woke up next. I focussed my eyes on him. He looked good and I made an attempt to stretch my lips into a smile. It took a lot of effort. He jumped up hopefully at my slight movement and rushed over to me, grasping my hands.
“It’s my job, Will. That’s what I do,” I whispered weakly, continuing our last conversation.
“I know it is, sweetheart, I know. Don’t worry about that right now. Just concentrate on getting better. We all just want to get you out of here.”
“I want to go home.”
“Soon. Just focus on getting better.”
“Where’s Heller? I want to see him.”
He shot me a wounded glance. “He’s with Niq at the moment. He’ll be back soon.”
I fell asleep again. And so the days passed.
I suffered through a very slow and painful recovery, spending over two months in hospital in total. I had broken ribs, a fractured pelvis, a broken arm and some internal injuries that had required emergency surgery. I looked an absolute fright, with black eyes and extensive cuts and bruising all over my body, including a terrible gash over my right eyebrow. I couldn’t bear to face my reflection in the mirror. I felt as though Death had visited, played with me cruelly and then left without me.
Wanting desperately to be free of the hospital, I behaved myself and did everything I was told, including the tortuous physical therapy and additional exercises I was instructed to do. And each day I healed a little more, felt a little stronger and a little less tired.
The first day I was deemed fit enough to move around, I demanded to be taken to Niq. Everyone advised against it, but I insisted stubbornly and bluntly refused to cooperate with anyone until I was allowed. If I was honest, there was a part of me that didn’t believe everyone when they said he was alive. I worried that they were only trying to spare me and I really needed the proof of my own eyes. I endured a painful transfer to a wheelchair and an orderly wheeled me to Niq’s room. He was lying motionless on his bed, pale and small, tubes still attached to him. Daniel was sitting on a chair pulled up next to the bed, holding Niq’s hand. He was so gaunt and drawn that I wondered if he had left the room since Niq was admitted.
“Daniel.”
He looked over at me with red-rimmed, weary eyes and sprang up to hug me fiercely. “He’s comatose, Tilly. He received some brain trauma. No one knows what will happen to him or if he’ll ever recover.”
I started crying again and I couldn’t stop. I sat in my wheelchair, clutching Niq’s hand to my cheek, crying and crying and crying. I’d never realised that one person could shed so many tears, but I just didn’t seem to be able to stop.
I sat there all day. People came and went – Heller, Will, Mum and Dad, my brothers, Daniel, the twins, Rumbles, Dixie, doctors, nurses, all trying to persuade me to go back to bed. I ignored everyone and sat next to Niq’s bed, in silent vigil for my dearest little friend. I’d been responsible for his safety and I’d failed him badly. Heller was never going to let me take him anywhere ever again. He’d be trapped in the Warehouse forever, because of me.
Heller returned late in the afternoon and again tried to make me go back to bed. I turned my tear-stained face to him. “He told me that he thought of me as his mother.”
He pulled up a chair and sat next to me, holding my other hand. “It’s not your fault, my sweet.”
“Yes, it is!” I insisted, tears pouring down my cheeks. “I didn’t drive properly. I was driving too fast. I was trying to slow down because I knew I was driving dangerously, but I lost control of the car. I couldn’t steer it.”
“They shot out one of your rear tyres. It’s not your fault you lost control.”
I stared at him. My voice cracked as I spoke. “Are you lying to me to make me feel better?”
“No! That’s what happened. It’s not your fault, Matilda.” In my injured state, it took me a while to absorb what he’d said.
“All this time, I thought I was to blame.” More tears. Where in God’s name did they all come from?
He squeezed my hand. “You’re not. There’s someone to blame all right, but it’s not you. I know who it is. We traced the number plate on the car following you. And by God, he’s going to pay for this.” And the expression on his face and tone of his voice frightened the hell out of me.
Niq stirred in his sleep. Heller jumped to his feet and gently stroked his hair.
“Niq,” he said quietly but with a desperate urgency. “It’s Heller. Come back to us, Niq. Please, darling boy.” He continued to speak gently in the same vein. There was another stir from the bed. Heller glanced at me, a hint of hope in his eyes, and pressed the nurses’ button.
He explained the stirrings to the nurse who arrived in response and she rushed off to find a doctor. There was much conferral and some disbelief, until Niq definitely moved again with everyone in the room as a witness. More conferral and muttered debate, probing, testing and, in the end, a diagnosis of ‘uncertain recovery’.
Heller forced me to eat something and to take a laborious and painful shower. But he couldn’t stay awake all night, whereas I felt that I had been sleeping for years. I sat with Niq, holding his hand, kissing it, and talking to him long into the night. Close to dawn, just when I thought I couldn’t stay awake one more second and Heller had been dozing, awkwardly cramped in a chair for a few hours, Niq’s eyes flickered open.
He looked around and focussed on me briefly. “Tilly,” he said and smiled weakly, before his eyes closed again.
“Niq!” Of course I started crying again. That’s all I seemed capable of doing. I pressed the nurse button straight away.
We all rejoiced at this sign of improvement and with each passing day there were more and more positive signs that Niq was going to recover.
One day, while I was in bed reading a magazine, the police came to interview me. It wasn’t every day that a car was shot at, even in this city. I told them that I didn’t remember anything. Nothing at all. Not one little detail. I professed complete ignorance about why someone would want to shoot at Niq and me. I swore black and blue that such a thing had never happened to me before. They left, suspicious but none the wiser. I trusted Heller to sort it out, because I couldn’t deal with anything more taxing than choosing what to have for dinner each evening.
My own recovery was coming along well, and finally I was ready
to return home. After much excruciating physical therapy, I was able to walk again with a stick, my pelvic bone, ribs and arm healed, but stiff and sore. I had one final check up and a last chat with the consulting doctor before I was due to be released very late in the day. Mum was there with me, holding my hand as he regarded the both of us with a serious face.
“Tilly, I’m sure your mother has told you that we had to operate on you after your accident. You had some serious internal bleeding, mostly because the steering wheel impacted into your stomach. Everything is fine inside you now, except for one thing.”
I stared at him, eyes huge with anxiety.
“The accident has affected your ovaries, I’m afraid. They were crushed badly. You’re going to find that your periods will become erratic and unpredictable. They’ll probably stop all together. And it’s never one hundred percent certain of course, but it’s most probable that you will find it impossible to conceive in the future.”
I sat for a few moments, taking in what he’d said. “Are you saying I can’t have children? Ever?”
“I’m saying that it is almost certain that you are not ever going to be able to conceive. Medicine isn’t precise of course, and maybe . . .” He petered out, not wanting to give me any false hope.
I started crying again. God, I was starting to bore myself with my sogginess. Mum decided to join me in the symphony of tears and we sat on my bed, crying together. I really didn’t even know why I was crying, because I had absolutely no interest in having children, but I didn’t like my options being taken away from me like that. The poor doctor was completely overwhelmed by two weeping women on his hands, and escaped as soon as politely possible.
Chapter 16
