Childish? Absolutely. Satisfying? Damn right. The man could go fuck himself with a cactus for all I cared. I made it as far as the parking garage only to find my brand-new Audi blocked in by my father’s old Rover, which I’d collected from its service the previous day. I had the key to the Rover on my keyring, but the Audi’s fob was still hanging on a hook by the front door.
Goddammit.I unlocked the Rover and slid into the driver’s seat. “Guess it’s just you and me again, huh?” I ran my hands almost affectionately around the steering wheel. “Another day, another Grey family crisis, right?” The Rover had been my only form of transport since my father had left my mother and me when I was twelve—his only concession to a family he seemed tocare so little about. When I’d left home at eighteen, my mother had given it to me, and for some reason that I didn’t want to look at too closely, I’d never replaced it until Judd had taken me car shopping to find something more... reliable. Luxurious was what he’d really meant. I’d obliged but held on to the Rover as well.
I took a second to calm down and suck in a few deep breaths. Then I threw the Rover into gear and fled my apartment and the life I’d spent ten years building. But as far as planning went, that was it.
I’d realised my mistake almost immediately.
It would’ve been infinitely more sensible, not to mention satisfying, if I’d stayed and kicked Judd out. Instead, I’d been left with time to fill in and nowhere to go. Judd was in my apartment clearing out his things, and my arsehole best friend and business partner, Phillip, would be lying in wait for me at work with yet more apologies, explanations, and downright fucking lies.
Hell to the no on dealing with any of that shit.
Instead, I’d spent the morning in a café, ensuring my blood caffeine levels hit DEFCON 1, all the while ignoring the onslaught of texts blowing up my phone. When my hands got so jittery that I didn’t dare risk another cup, I left the café and wandered the city for hours with my coat collar pulled up against the blustery spring storm. It was a fitting accompaniment to my plummeting emotional state as the depth of the betrayal finally began to sink in. Where did you go and who did you talk to when the two most important people in your life had been the ones to fuck you over?
I had no memory of getting back in my car and heading north out of the city, only the crushing need to avoid my apartment and office at all costs. All those gut-wrenching but necessary decisions about the company and my about-to-be-defunct business partnership, in addition to tying up the looseends of a broken relationship and answering a ton of awkward questions from friends and family, were about as appealing as a root canal.
Next thing I knew, I was negotiating the winding road up the Remutaka Hills in treacherous weather and with no destination in mind. But after crossing the centre line and almost getting sideswiped by a container truck heading the opposite direction, I came to the realisation that I was gonna get myself killed. That in mind, I pulled over, waited for my heart to stop hammering in my chest, and consulted the map on my phone.
Driving back into Wellington in the middle of a tempest seemed an equally stupid idea, so I’d looked for somewhere quiet to wait things out. A small country road just a little north of where I’d parked caught my eye. Crighton Road. I knew that name. I’d expanded the map and almost laughed. Crighton Road led into the Langley Forest, the site of a proposed development for which our company was currently preparing a bid. It was a specialised software contract that had the potential to be very good for our brand. Studying the map closer, I’d seen that Crighton Road had a small rest area/car park about halfway up, the starting point for several walking tracks. It seemed the perfect place to hunker down and wait while the storm did its thing. I plugged in the location and set off.
Thirty minutes later, I was beginning to wonder if I’d made a mistake. According to Google Maps, I should’ve hit that rest area a couple of kilometres back, but I hadn’t come upon anything that looked remotely like it. The tarmac had fizzled to gravel, and Google Maps had my car icon floating in a green off-road purgatory where no road apparently existed. Except it did because I was still driving on it, moving forward, toward... something. Who the hell knew what?
Another rumbling roll of thunder passed overhead, and my headlights lit up a sign warning of a side road ahead. I slowed theRover and crawled up the road until I reached a dead end with a road leading to the right. The sign readStorten Road—a touch ambitious for what amounted to little more than a muddy lane heading off the gravel road to another dead end. I peered into the gloom and saw a second, smaller sign nailed to the trunk of a dying tree, adjacent to an even narrower gravel road.
Heligan Cottage
Private Property
“Shit.” I stared ahead at the dead end. What now?
The sound of another text made me jump in my seat, every nerve in my body jangling on high alert. I glanced at my phone.
Come on Thad. Just tell me you’re okay. Surely we can be adults about this.
“Adultthis, arsehole.” I switched the phone to silent and leaned forward in my seat. A thick black sky bled into the upper canopy of the forest, long snaking tendrils weaving through the branches and shutting out the dwindling evening light. A flash of silver in the distance, and another crash of thunder shook the car, the gap longer, the sound a little to the west. Although it was still raining cats and dogs, the worst was beginning to pass over. I could drive back down and find a hotel to stay in while I figured things out. It was better than sleeping in my car.
I swung the Rover into the muddy lane, then reversed back onto the gravel until I was heading the opposite way. The flood across my windscreen, combined with forty-year-old windshield wipers, rendered the road ahead all but a vague suggestion. I sat for a few seconds, took a calming breath, tightened my grip on the steering wheel, and headed back down.
I’d barely got thirty metres when a flash of white caught my eye, and something burst from the treeline to my rightand dashed across the road. Golden-yellow eyes glowed in the headlights, and I slammed on the brakes. “Shit, shit, shit!”
The car’s rear end drifted sideways on the gravel, and a cry carried on the wind as I spun the wheel into the slide and the creature—a dog, I thought—disappeared into the forest on the other side of the road.
The Rover eventually straightened from the slide, but not quickly enough to stop the rear wheels from hitting the sodden verge at the side of the road and losing traction. For a few seconds, the car gathered momentum down the slick slope before slamming into a tree and spinning around, continuing its downward run to plough bonnet-first into something that stopped it dead in its tracks.
Glass detonated over the upholstery, and the airbag hit my chest like a Mack truck, pinning me to the seat and emptying my lungs in a single whoosh of breath. Pain exploded through my chest, then just as quickly, the pressure was gone. I slumped forward against the seatbelt, my heart thundering against my ribs as I fought to get some air into my lungs.
“Fuck!” I gasped. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I fumbled for the keys to try and shut off the engine. I’d never been in an accident, but it seemed the right thing to do. When my fingers wrapped around them, I almost cried with relief. The second the engine cut and the headlights died, everything was plunged into a gloomy wash of black and khaki grey, and I immediately wished I’d left it going.
I unclipped the seatbelt and leaned across the console, wincing as a slash of pain ripped across my chest. “Fuck! Dammit.” I rifled through the glove compartment for the tiny flashlight I kept there. After a few false starts and a lot of shaking, it finally clicked on, bathing the car’s interior in a weak yellow light.
I did a quick check of my body, one limb at a time. All present and accounted for. Nothing broken as far as I could tell. A few smears of blood came off on my hands when I ran them over my head and face, but nothing to be worried about. The result of flying glass, I supposed. It could have been a lot worse. I sent a silent prayer of thanks into the universe and another to my father for leaving us the decrepit old Rover in the first place. I’d likely have been going a lot faster in the Audi.
When my heart finally settled back in my chest, I turned my attention to looking for the animal I was sure I’d hit. A beagle or a spaniel—something about that size—although what the hell a dog was doing out in this weather, who the fuck knew? The owner needed to be arrested... or something. I recalled the sign for Heligan Cottage and wondered if the animal came from there. I couldn’t be positive I’d actually hit it, but I was pretty sure I’d heard a cry, or yelp, or something just before I lost control of the car.
The idea that I might have injured or even killed the poor thing initiated a wave of panic that coursed through my body, and bile rose in the back of my throat. It would be the shittiest end to the crappiest day ever. I scanned the gloomy forest but saw no sign of the animal. I swore, because one thing was for sure: I couldn’t leave without at least making sure it wasn’t lying hurt somewhere close by.
The teaming rain had eased to a drizzle by the time I got my brain working well enough to grab my phone, car keys, flashlight, and suit coat. But when I tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge, and no amount of pulling and shoving and swearing made the slightest difference.
“Oh, come on! Give me a break.” I slammed the base of my fist into the useless thing, considered the passenger door on the other side, and sighed. “For fuck’s sake.” I clambered over the console, swearing at the top of my voice when the passengerdoor also resisted. A few hefty shoulder shoves later, it finally gave way, and I tumbled out of the car and onto the reason for the Rover’s abrupt stop, the flashlight flying out in front of me.
