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Great Writing - Home > Extended > Barry Castor: Driving Instructor (Part 5)
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Extended Work
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| Barry Castor: Driving Instructor (Part 5) | |
| By pforrester | ||
| 23 April 2006 | ||
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Hopefully things are still fairly coherent up to this point, though I'll have to do a bit of re-writing if I'm going to post any more, as I started changing a few things while I was writing after this point. ANyway, see what you think. Barry did nothing for the next two minutes except scald his tongue whilst drinking hot coffee. He sat in the passenger seat of his car, staring straight ahead through the windscreen, not blinking. There was a vacant look in his eyes that anybody who knew him would recognise immediately as being perfectly normal. This trance-like state was broken by someone entering his peripheral vision. Barry looked across the road at the pavement to his right and saw a man running, apparently toward him. There was something unusual about the way this man was running, but Barry couldn’t place what it was. It might have been the way he carried himself, or it might have been the look on his face, but something was wrong. It became more difficult to tell what exactly was different when the man was hit by a car, leaving him lying in a heap in the road. In fairness to the car driver, the man had simply ran into the road suddenly and without looking. However, this was no excuse for the car driver to then leave the scene of the accident, but that is what he did and it fell to Barry – given the lack of any other people in the vicinity – to go and check the body. With reluctance, Barry got out of his car and walked very slowly toward the dead man. Barry had an uneasy relationship with death, and had avoided it as best he could for most of his life. This didn’t feel like the best time to have to deal with such a situation, and undoubtedly it wouldn’t have been had something extremely puzzling not happened. The body moved. It had been a forceful impact to say the least, and the man’s body had contorted into shapes that human bodies were not designed for when the car had struck. But the body was moving, and as Barry reached it, it stood upright. “What’s that smell?” asked the man. “Burning rubber,” replied Barry without even thinking about it. He pointed at a big black ‘11’ on the road where the car had screeched away. “Are you alright?” The man looked at Barry as if to ask why he shouldn’t be, then bent forward to touch his toes like he was doing a breakfast television exercise workout. Barry was amazed at this, and then couldn’t find the words to express himself as the man promptly leant backwards… and kept going until the back of his head was almost touching his heels. After a few seconds of this, the man straightened himself up again. “I’m fine,” he said, adding: “Thanks for asking. How are you?” He almost sounded cheery, but there was a sense of awkwardness. It took Barry a moment to reply, and he wondered if he should have bothered in the end. “I think so,” is what he said. “That’s okay then,” said the man. “You look a bit tired, that’s all.” “Yeah, I’ve only had a couple of hours sleep–” Barry yawned loudly. “Sorry about that. I’ve only had a couple of hours sleep in the last sixteen years or so.” “Right,” said the man, like this was more odd than him surviving a particularly nasty hit and run incident. “How did you do that?” asked Barry as he finally came to his senses, or a few of them at least. “Doesn’t matter,” said the man, who peered over Barry’s shoulder at the very dirty Saxo. “Are you a driving instructor then?” “Err, yes,” said Barry, who felt the need to look at his car as well. It didn’t really look all that different though, so he turned back round pretty quickly. “I’ve always wanted a go in one of those,” said the man. “What, an old Citroen Saxo?” asked Barry. “No,” replied the man. “A car. Do you think I could have a go in yours?” “If you want.” Barry wasn’t in the least bit sure why he was agreeing to it. “Lucky I ran into you then.” Whoever this guy was he seemed to be getting happier, though this was Barry’s perception of happiness and not someone who didn’t walk round in coffee induced misery. “Shame you got run into first,” said Barry, even though there were no signs of any damage. He got into the passenger seat of his car, even though there was no suggestion that his new ‘pupil’ knew what a clutch was. “My name is Kraneth by the way,” said the man once they were on their way. It hadn’t taken Barry long to explain the basic principles of driving, and though it was a little jerky, the man had seemed to pick it up quickly. In fact, Barry felt more secure than he sometimes did with people who had been learning for over 18 months. “That’s a strange name,” said Barry blandly. Certain things were no longer surprising him, even if he couldn’t give comprehensive reasons why. “Well, where I come from, Barry isn’t really a common name.” “How do you know my name?” asked Barry suspiciously, trying to remember if he’d said it out loud at any point. “The sign. On top of your car.” “Right.” For someone who had such a strange name and had apparently never driven a car before, Kraneth seemed to have an unusually clear idea of where he wanted to go. Barry thought this might be a good topic to raise in conversation. “Uh, where are we going?” The way Kraneth turned to look at Barry suggested that he wasn’t especially concentrating on the road either. “I’m going to visit a friend,” he said. Barry decided that was enough for him and sat in silence until the car came to what would be described politely as an abrupt stop. Barry looked around him as if he had cause to be embarrassed about something. There didn’t seem to many people in town this morning; in fact, it seemed exceptionally quiet for such a pleasant morning. Nor were there a great many cars on the road. Barry was puzzled (or, to be more precise, more puzzled than normal). Kraneth had parked – again, a polite term – on the right-hand side of the road. And to their right stood a very tall, very solid, dense looking brick wall that stretched the length of the street. “This is the prison,” said Barry with a note of uncertainty. There was a better than average chance that this note would become a full-blown sonata within a few minutes. “Yes,” said Kraneth, no trace of concern evident in his voice. “I have a friend in here who I’m visiting.” So much about the situation made absolutely no sense to Barry, but there was a chance something interesting might happen, so he decided to go along with it. “What’s your friend in for?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could manage. “Arson.” “Okay.” “Uh, she didn’t do it though. It was me. My fault, I mean.” Kraneth got out of the car. Despite the opportunity this presented for Barry to jump into the driver’s seat and drive far, far into the distance, he wasn’t that sprightly, so he got out as well and locked all the doors. “You’re coming too?” asked Kraneth. “Oh. It just seemed to be the way the situation was going,” said Barry sheepishly. “I’ve got nothing better to do,” he added hopefully. “Whatever,” said Kraneth brightly. They set off to find the entrance…and found themselves back at the car within five minutes. “I’d assumed you’d checked visiting hours beforehand,” said Barry. He sat down in the car glumly. “I just thought I could go in anytime.” Kraneth started the engine again and pulled away. “So where are we going now?” asked Barry. He wondered how he might bring up the subject of getting paid for letting a complete stranger with an odd name drive where he liked for a few hours. “Not far,” came a reply as they took a couple of left turns. After a third left turn – and with it looking suspiciously like they might be going in a circle – Kraneth forced his right foot to the floor. The car’s engine screamed loudly until he remembered to change up into third gear. And then fourth, and fifth, all in the space of a short piece of road. It took Barry a moment, but all credit to him, he spotted it before it happened – Kraneth was heading straight for the 100 year old brickwork. Alarmingly, a police car pulled out from a road on the left, forcing Kraneth to swerve so violently that the tyres lost all grip. As he attempted to correct the slide the car snapped to the left, and then right again. Getting dangerously close to the wall he had been heading for anyway, the car finally turned through 180 degrees and stopped. Barry let out a breath he had been saving for a special occasion. Kraneth grinned at Barry, and then frowned when the police siren started. They both looked out of the left window and saw the car they had swerved around seconds before heading toward them. Kraneth wrenched the car into gear and hit the accelerator again. Unfortunately, the gear he selected was reverse, forcing the police car to swerve around them this time. Barry generally considered police drivers to be amongst the worst on the road, and he couldn’t help but snigger as the blue and white Ford Focus careered into the wall of the prison. Except that it seemed the impact was quite heavy, as a large section of wall came tumbling down throwing rubble onto the pavement and into the road. Nothing happened for a few seconds. “Excellent!” said Kraneth rather too enthusiastically. “I’ll be back in a minute.” “What?!” said Barry, but the driver’s door was already banged shut again. He opened his own door and tried to get out, but he couldn’t move. Then he unfastened his seatbelt and fell into the road. “Calm down,” he said to himself. Quite why he had got out was unclear, because there was not a lot he could do. A small crowd had begun to gather around the hole in the prison wall, but no one had yet emerged and even the two policemen had failed to get out of their crumpled car. As if on cue a loud siren pierced the air, again giving Barry cause to wonder if he wouldn’t be better off just getting away from the scene. Something kept him there though. And then something appeared that he figured was about to get him moving. A few random individuals emerged through the hole from inside the prison. Barry didn’t like to assume they were inmates, but – to be frank – they looked like they were. After half a dozen or so individuals Barry could make out Kraneth, and he seemed to be dragging somebody else behind him. Kraneth and his ‘friend’, who, lest it be forgotten, was apparently inside because of Kraneth, headed toward Barry and his best friend (the car). The woman accompanying Kraneth gave the impression that she wasn’t too happy, not least because she was beating furiously at his arm. He continued to lead her – or force her, depending on your point of view – onward, seemingly oblivious to this physical punishment. “Get in,” said Kraneth when they reached the car, apparently as an instruction to both his friend and Barry. Barry obliged; the woman put up a little more of a struggle. “What the hell are you doing?” she said to Kraneth. “Why are you breaking me out of jail? I can’t believe I just said that…” “You like being in there?” asked Kraneth incredulously. “You want to wait ‘til they let you out? How long’s that gonna be?” “I was being let out TOMORROW, you insane idiot,” she screamed at him. “What the HELL are you doing?” Kraneth ignored this outburst and continued like nothing had happened. “Barry, I’d like you to meet my landlord, Alison. Alison, this is Barry, a… a guy I just met.” “Why should I care who this is?” said Alison. “I’m going back in there. I can wait ‘til tomorrow!” “Hi,” said Barry. “I need you, Alison. Seriously, I need you, and it can’t wait. Not even a day.” For the first time since Barry had met him, Kraneth seemed to have an ounce of– of human emotion in his voice. It was the only way he could think of describing it, yet he still couldn’t get his head round any of what was going on. Kraneth pushed Alison onto the back seat, then got back into the driver’s seat. Barely two minutes after he had first left the car, they were ready to go again. Until: “Morning, all,” said a voice. The rear door on the passenger side was open and a short, balding man with almost as many teeth as he had fingers stood there smiling unnecessarily. “Room for one more?” Before anyone could give an answer he was on the back seat next to Alison, and it really didn’t look like he was going to take no for an answer (not because he was a hardened, uncompromising bastard, but more because he seemed the type who would keep asking, “But why not?” to every excuse you’d give). “Who are you?!” asked Alison. “Sid,” replied the bald man. He turned to Kraneth. “Now drive.” Not that they really needed it, but a noise that didn’t sound like one police car siren (probably two or three, though it was difficult to be precise with all the commotion) jolted them out of the shock of what was happening. Glancing round, they could see a number of what was now a somewhat larger crowd pointing in their direction, and it was in that very same direction that the police cars seemed inclined to move. Kraneth whipped his head round to face Barry, his nostrils flared and a look of panic– no, make that excitement, on his face. “How do I drive, you know, evasively?” he asked. “I… I don’t know… You were fine driving before, weren’t you? I wouldn’t know how…” “It was fine before because there was nothing else to concentrate on. I… Just take over, would you? You’re going to have to drive.” “I can’t.” “What do you mean? Why not? You’re a driving instructor!” Kraneth was grasping at his seatbelt; he seemed so different. “Correct.” “So drive!” “I can’t! I can instruct people how to drive, hence my title.” Kraneth stopped struggling and rested his head back, letting out a long sigh. “Oh my, err… God,” he muttered. “Otherwordly powers really don’t help you choose the quality of your friends.” “What was that?” said Barry. “We’re friends now?” Almost at the same time, they realised the noise outside had quietened down. There was a good reason for this. “Get out of the car!” said a voice over a loudhailer. More police were making their way toward the scene in an attempt to surround them completely. “Your instruction better be good,” said Kraneth, and he allowed the car to demonstrate that it’s acceleration can be quite good despite a payload of four adults, as long as you stay in first gear and press the accelerator as far as it will go. “Change up!” shouted Barry as they lurched away violently from the place they had been stationary. Spinning round in his seat to look out of the rear window, Barry could see the police officers all leap into action, throwing themselves into their cars and – naturally – putting their sirens on. It seemed to be a happy coincidence that town was so quiet today, otherwise they would surely have been through a shop window within a few hundred metres of setting off. Kraneth had not mastered the art of drifting the car round corners (what with having less than an hour of driving experience), so the ‘chase’ was surprisingly controlled and looked nothing like chases do in the movies. After a while, however, Barry started to lose patience. “Do you need me telling you what to do?” “Yes, or I wouldn’t be able to drive!” “But you’re doing everything before I tell you!” Kraneth wrenched the gear stick into top gear. “Fifth!” shouted Barry. “Look, look!” butted in Sid, desperate to feel part of the experience. “He did it again!” “Shut up, Sid,” said Kraneth. “Why don’t I do the same?” Barry said with petulance. “I’m beginning to feel stupid.” “I would have thought the situation was obvious,” said Kraneth, stereotypically running a red light at a crossroads and swerving round a couple of cars that screeched to a halt. “Being a God, I am privileged to possess powers of prediction, and am therefore able to act in advance of what you are going to say. Sadly, God training doesn’t stretch to clutch control, so if you shut up I can’t follow your train of thought and I WON’T HAVE A CLUE WHAT TO DO!” “Okay,” said Barry, feeling really quite flustered now. “Err, at the roundabout, take the third exit.” The fact that God training also failed to stretch to The Highway Code became abundantly clear when, instead of going clockwise round the roundabout, Kraneth went anti-clockwise. “Holy Mary!” said Barry, feeling rather more flustered now than he had at any other time during the morning. “Who’s Mary?” asked Kraneth. Barry gave him a funny look. “The mother of God,” he replied. “None of us had mothers,” he said, slotting down a gear to negotiate a tight left hand bend. “Change down,” said Barry, before adding, “Were you being serious then? You know, about being a God?” “Of course I was. How do you think I would have survived being hit by a car otherwise?” Barry chose not to offer a response to this question. The Saxo, followed reasonably closely by three police cars, was now entering a housing estate. Barry would have admitted, had anyone found the inclination to ask him, to being really rather impressed with Kraneth, and there were even signs that he was starting to learn to drive without the need for Barry to think things through first. “Are you not at all worried about them using a stinger?” asked Barry, who had spent many evenings watching television shows about police chases. Before Kraneth could reply, Sid decided to remind them all that he was there. Looking round to the back seat, Barry could see that Alison’s face showed a great deal of relief that the grimy man with almost no teeth and even less hair had turned his attention elsewhere. “Where’re we headed anyway?” he asked in a sly tone of voice that seemed to be entirely natural. “I didn’t take a chance on a bloody prison break to be led down a dead end by a bunch of amateurs.” “Sorry to be a disappointment,” said Barry. “Like we care what you think.” Despite this, he asked Kraneth anyway: “Where exactly are we going, anyway?” “The other side of this housing estate,” he replied. “What’s down by the river?” Alison suddenly raised her head and showed some interest in the conversation. “My apartment,” she said. It was plain to see that they were driving toward a dead end, which concerned Barry to say the least. “What’s the plan?” he asked. “I’m not sure the police will accept your story about being a God as easily as I did.” “They won’t?” said Kraneth, sounding genuinely surprised. The car literally screeched to a halt as he treated the brake pedal in much the same way as he had treated the accelerator throughout the journey. Maybe because it was something to do before their inevitable arrest, the four of them all leapt out of the car. Only Kraneth headed toward what Barry assumed was Alison’s front door; the other three remained rooted to the spot as the three police cars followed suit. Numerous doors all opened simultaneously; in a break with convention, they all remained only half open. “What?” Alison blurted out. “Huh?” said Barry, not consciously trying to be less expressive. “Has time stopped again?” “Oh no,” muttered Kraneth. “The clock’s playing up worse than ever.” Only Sid remained silent, and only Barry noticed this to be the case. He didn’t care a great deal, but it seemed polite to ask. “Are you alright, Sid?” There was still no response, and the only assumption it was reasonable to make was that – like the police – Sid had frozen in time.
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