Chapter 42

I can move. How is this possible? My legs are fine. My back is fine. I have a little bit of pain at the nape of my neck. My arms are completely scar-free. I’m not bleeding. I’m alive. I’m…

I’m leaning on my left side. No, the car is on its left side, sticking out of the ditch at an acute angle.

“Mr. Friday?” I whisper. “Mr. Friday, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not a whisper.

“Mr. Friday?…We’ve had an accident. Can you hear me?”

Still nothing. Still not a whisper.

I turn my head to the left and see parts of his mangled body in a thick red hue: part of his cheekbone and skull, chunks of his forehead and an amputated right leg. Shards of metal stick out of his chest like knives. The steering wheel is missing in front of him. His left hand is either missing or under his weight.

“Mr. Friday?”

The scent of gasoline lines the Jaguar’s interior. It burns my face and the back of my palms. It…