To be unpublished soon and rewritten!
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The skies in Highbury Hills were bedarkened and weeping with a familiar funk of raw sewerage and rotten cadavers lingering in the air, that smelt like death. His death. He wasn't alone that much Derek knew. He blinked his eyes open and got pulled into the group of dark, moving figures circulating towards his body, carrying torch lights with backpacks strapped to their shoulders. His feelings were conflicted with confusion and doubt upon their arrival. He didn't know why he was here and whether or not, he should be happy that these people had found him or start shitting bricks that they could be potential mass murderers, wanting to finish him off.
He lay there and pretended to play dead, like a corpse, scared to even breathe a word, still shook up from that rollercoaster ride from Hell that almost cost him his life. One of them shoulder charged the other one out of his way and came bulldozing in Derek's direction like a hurricane and shouted, "Jesus Christ! This fellah looks dead! What do ya reckon happened here?!" His voice was louder than anyone Derek had ever before. It was deep and raucous like a foghorn.
His gaze caught Melissa's car that had been engulfed in pyrotechnic flames and left in ashes from the petrol tank exploding. That's when it all hit him like a ton of shit.
Fuck, Derek thought, still trying to figure out how in the hell it had come to this.
"Quit ya God-damn blabbering ya, knucklehead and lemme feel his pulse!" wailed another out like a Banshee. "He's probably got hypothermia from being out in the cold for so long."
"Ya really wanna know what I think, chief?" said the other voice.
Silent as a catacomb, Derek lay there, eavesdropping in on their conversation, wanting to know whether or not their intentions with him were honourable or not.
"Yeah?" he heard the man say flatly.
"I'd say we leave the rat bastard, here for dead and let the crows feast on his eyes."
Both men guffawed at their fellow friends remark. They seemed to do that often, but the other one was different to them and had a much more serious if not dangerous side to him.
"That's enough!" raged the authoritative one of the group and stomped his foot as if to tell him not to further test his patience.
"Ain't nobody gives the orders here, but me, ya hear?! Besides he could be of some use to us, so will y'all shut yer bleeding holes and let me feel his pulse already!"
Derek was cold, terrified and indifferent while they probed and prodded at his helpless body, as if they were some kind of strange extraterrestrial life form that had descended down from another world to experiment on him. It was as if they were testing his endurance to see how far they could get him to crack. Before he could mount an argument and tell them to get off him, a man in his fifties with a smooth unlined face and unruly brown hair pressed his index finger down on the pulse point of Derek's neck, heaving in a sigh of relief, as if it were a miracle he was still alive. Which it was. The temperature must have dropped to below twelve degrees in the last ten minutes since he'd been out here, helplessly fighting for his life.
