Ahead of his Time, Adrian Cousins [short story to read .txt] 📗

I’d heard that before only a few months ago standing in this very same flat. What was it with this bloody estate?

“Right, come on then. If we turn left at the bottom of the stairs, we can nip through the alley and on to Coldhams Lane. Martin is parked near the Beehive, so we can hopefully get there without being seen.”

As we ran across Coldhams Lane, I relaxed and stopped clenching my bum cheeks tightly together, now relieved that somehow we’d made it through without incident. Although by no means in the clear, at least we were out of the estate. What Jess didn’t know was the whole evening was a ruse to get her to report Paul Colney. If we could get her to do that, she’d be sleeping in the spare room at Martin’s tonight. I was sure Martin would be well up for that, although I’d made it clear to him – Jess was off-limits.

“Right, we’re here.”

Martin had already started the engine, preparing himself to perform his Steve McQueen impression. He revved the engine a few times just for extra drama, I suspected.

“Bloody hell, it’s that ruddy Cortina! Not exactly inconspicuous, is it!”

“Agreed, but Paul’s not looking for this car now. As I said, better than bringing the Stag up here.”

Opening up the back door for Jess, I followed her in as Martin was ready to fly. Like the getaway driver he aspired to be, he pumped the accelerator, so not exactly keeping our presence low key. Oh well, we’d made it now, so no drama here, I thought.

“Jess, this is Martin.”

Still revving the engine, he turned and smiled. “Hi, Jess.”

Jess didn’t reply or smile back. Her complexion had changed, and her mouth dropped open as if in shock or surprise. Although there was the likeness between Martin and Paul, I was surprised she could see the resemblance in the dim light. Martin and I were looking at Jess, but I realised Jess wasn’t looking at Martin. I turned my head and followed her gaze to the front passenger door, which at that point had opened. I hadn’t heard it happen as Martin, throughout this whole encounter was pumping the accelerator.

The slow-motion feeling I’d had when I ploughed the Beemer into that white van forty-two years in the future returned. I had just enough time to swivel my head to watch Paul Colney slide into the passenger seat next to Martin and ram a sawn-off shotgun in his face. The barrels of the gun pushed his cheek inwards, distorting his appearance. The sound of the engine returned to a low idle as Martin’s foot slipped off the accelerator. Those few moments now seemed as if the four of us were in some alternative remake of The Matrix.

“My three favourite people all together … how nice!”

None of us replied. Martin swivelled his eyes, I guess to confirm what was the cause of his cheek indentation. Paul lowered the gun and pointed it at Martin’s lap.

“Drive, dick-head, or I’ll blow your dick off.”

Jess grabbed my hand as she turned to look at me with pure horror etched across her face. I thought we’d made it out of the estate unseen, but what an idiot I’d been. Now I, Jess and Martin were in significant danger. In this short space of time living in the ’70s, I’d learned that the Colney family were pure evil. However, although evil and doing the Gowers family bidding – Paul Colney was mentally deranged. He was a psychotic rapist nutter who’d act without thought of consequence. The chance of any of us surviving this encounter was extremely low.

“I said drive, dick-head,” Paul spat at Martin, who for a few seconds hadn’t moved as he stared at Paul in shock. The trajectory of the barrels of the gun, now pointing at his crown-jewels, jolted him out of his trance. We shot out into Coldhams Lane, causing Jess and I to be flung back into our seats.

“Where … err … where to?” Martin croaked.

Jess and I just sat holding hands. Paul was in front of Jess. With no headrests blocking my reach, I considered leaping forward. I could quickly wrap my arm around his neck and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. As I mustered up the courage to move, I released my hand from Jess’s, ready to strike. Paul turned slightly, adjusting his body so he could have half an eye on me.

“Just keep driving … we’re going to meet some acquaintances of mine who make me look like Mother Teresa.” He grinned. “Don’t do anything stupid, Apple … otherwise, this tosser loses his dick.”

Glancing at the shotgun with both barrels inches from Martin’s groin, I quickly dismissed my heroic plan as Martin would acquire a large hole between his legs if I moved a muscle. I sat back as Jess took hold of my hand and squeezed. I could feel the relief radiating through her that I’d changed my mind. Although obeying this psycho would avoid the shotgun being emptied in Martin’s lap, thus rendering his overused tackle useless, this journey’s final destination would certainly deliver worse consequences. Not that Martin would see it that way, but then it wasn’t my dick with a sawn-off nuzzled against it.

‘For fuck sake, Jason. Think. Think man. You’ve got to come up with a plan, or we’re all dead!’

46

Mrs Blunders

Whether it was fear, adrenalin, or he’d formulated a plan himself which involved high-speed driving, Martin pulled through the gears at a pace and dexterity which Ayrton Senna would’ve been proud of. Although that didn’t end well for him in the San Marino Grand Prix in 1994. For a brief moment of distraction, I made a mental note that I had to somehow stop him racing that day. He was my hero and, if I survived the night, I made a promise to Ayrton that I’d do whatever I could to change his future.

I can only presume I spotted the bikes a