Chapter 37 - Carpe Diem
As it turns out, driving through Cardiff in my old mercedes is no safer than running or walking. Everything seems to be turning against us, including my old car.
All we need to do is get to Barry in one piece, once safe in our house we can at least board ourselves in and move to the second, less palatable part of the plan. Of course, we could do that here, now, but I feel the need to put it off until Tom has rejoined us.
The way that the other commuters on the Barry road are driving we may end up dead before we get there!
As soon the other drivers see us, they also become weapon-wielding fiends. Their attacks are much worse than those without cars. If my poor old car gets up to any kind of speed, which is itself a feat that is hard to accomplish, the back of my car is rammed or we are hit from the side.
We are only lucky that the peaceful A-roads that take us back to Barry are not overly populated even on the most popular of occasions, if this were the motorway we would have been overturned by now. Nevertheless, a normally short journey has become nightmarish quickly.
With the engine giving out, stalling, and struggling; with constant attacks from those with legs, bikes, cars, trucks, even scooters; with exhaustion, with indigestion, Alex's head wound, and with all the other human accoutrement which I had forgotten, it has taken us several hours to get even as far as we have.
Battling other drivers is one thing, having to battle my own beloved car is something different. Throughout the entire journey I swore that if I did nothing else in this world it would be to gain control over a vehicle that now has a mind of its own! Even once it hits a good speed it stops in the middle box junctions, pumps smoke from under the bonnet to obscure my vision, one tyre blows. Finally the brakes fail and then the whole thing ceases to work near Cadoxton. We are a good two miles from home when the nearby crowd of teens, families and fast-food workers at the drive-thru, who had seemed perfectly happy to go about their lives until they saw us, begin to descend upon my car with abandon.
"Give me strength!" I smack at the wheel and pull at my damp hair.
Alex is even less calm. She kicks at the passenger well repeatedly, with exasperation,"I swear they are trying to kill us!"
My poor car is shaken upon its' axles by the crowd as I try the key in the ignition repeatedly again.
In a huff she unclips her seatbelt and reaches over for mine.
"What are you doing?" I snap pulling it back
"I'm sorry, you think it's safe in here!"
Fists pound upon the metalwork.
"Safer than out there," I say and clipping the buckle back in place, "They don't want us dead."
"Could have fooled me!"
"If they wanted us dead we would no longer be alive," I tell her, "They are stalling for time. If anything they probably want to stop us from killing ourselves."
"Imsorrywhat!" Alex froths in my general direction. I try to remain calm.
"Death, I'm assuming, is our only route to reality."
"You're shitting me? You're actually shitting me."
I remain with my eyes locked on hers, resolute. She pouts, blinks, shakes her head, screws up her elfin features and then rolls her eyes and sighs, "You're not shitting me." She throws her arms up in the air, "I knew I should've had dessert. I knew it!"
Bang! One of the tyres gets popped.
"It's all I can think of, but it's a risk I am not yet sure I am willing to take, yet."
"Are you sure they're not trying to kill us?"
I hesitate, trying the key in the ignition again. "Fairly sure." The car refuses to move.
"Aye, well they're giving it a bloody good go. Come on!" she yells, grabbing for the handle and throwing herself out the car.
"Where are you going?!" I yell, as if I have any means of calling her back in that she would pay heed to. Of course, she does not. I sigh, unclip my belt, pull the keys from the ignition and follow. As I open the door of the car, with difficulty, I throw a few of the rabid Cadoxtonites towards the pavement, it gives me a clear enough window to head after Alex.
Alex is half way down the street already. It's a two mile run! Not much, but nonetheless we are both tired. She has tossed her jacket aside and in between bursts she is taking out commuters with aplomb. I try not to become distracted with pride. My jacket comes off too. I throw it in the direction of a shambling old gent and head in her direction.
"Come on, slow coach," she grins, bouncing on her heels like a hyperactive puppy. "Race you!"
I smile, from ear to ear, and we're off. Side by side. Feet hitting tarmac in the rain. We're out of breath, out hearts working painfully against the stitch that we both get in our sides after the first kilometre. Alex is red-faced, being that she is less used to exercise than I am, but she holds her own. There are few people who attack on our journey, though an occasional car causes concern, and at one point forces us to detour through a number of suburban gardens. It just becomes a fun adventure.
When we reach the hill that leads us up towards the B&B we are so tired out neither of us can form words, only pant for breath as we lean on our thighs for air.
"Shall...we...?" Alex coughs through her tired breaths.
"After you," I smile.
"Seriously, you ...can...give ….the gentleman thing...a rest..."
I laugh, coughing too, shrug and get the jump on her. I'm a few feet away before she strikes into action. "You shit!" I hear her call, but I am already halfway there. I turn to look back, slowing to a jog. She is practically on her knees. It's only fair to give her a sporting chance, yes? I run backwards.
"I said you should have joined me in my morning runs," I say.
"Your...morning...runs..." she stops, leans back on her hips to stretch out the ache and bring more air into her lungs. I do not complain about the view it affords me, giving me that promised glimpse of her 'perfect' bra underneath that wet, white shirt. "...are …THE...gayest..." and there her voice fails. I have stopped too, enchanted by the sight. "...THE..." she attempts to continue, standing upright again.
And then she goes! Like lightning, passing my by, fully aware that she had succeeded in distracting me from my endeavours. Her laughter is rich and fuelled with the heady abandon that only 'getting one over' on me sounded like from her lips. It is full-throated. It is worth losing for.
Nevertheless I won't let her know that I have lost so willingly. I follow at a pace, turning with a skid at the gateway and throwing myself up the steps where she is busy slipping the key into the lock.
She pushes the door open and we both fall inside.
Laughing. Warm. Soaked with sweat and rain and excitement. We lie on our backs upon the threshold, panting, laughing, smiling until the sound wears out, leaving one of those moments hanging there, from the ceiling, like a dusty spider-web I would (in earlier days) want to desperately to knock down.
Alex sighs, she turns to me. Her perfect face flushed and glowing.
I turn to my head upon the thin carpet to look at her. My warm cheek scratches against the pile. All those thoughts that have been plaguing me seem dull and grey all of a sudden. I don't care about the end of the world, the lies, the prospect of what awaits me, all I can think of is how perfect her face is in its imperfections. The way that her left eye is slightly smaller than her right, that she smiles with more muscles than any human being I have met, that she combs her hair over on that side to cover a small scar I had never noticed before, that her chin actually dimples, that she gets freckles when her cheeks flush...Right then. I would make a deal with the Devil to keep her, this moment, for eternity.
"Who knew kicking your ass could be so much fun," she says, lifting up her knee and pushing the door shut with her foot.
I swallow, my mouth is dry. I take a deep breath. My chest rises and falls with all that delicious oxygen. It seems so, so, very real. Could I foresake reality for this dream, if it means I could have her? What kind of man does that make me?
She does the same, her chest heaves with deep breaths. My eyes slip, unconsciously to that wet shirt of hers. I roll onto my side. She rolls onto her side. We are an inch away from each other. The moment still hangs there, teasing.
"If this really is a dream, if we have to wake up, if we have to save the world," she says, her breath warm and sweet on my lips, "Do you reckon you'll be like you are now, on the other side?"
I blink, "I can't say."
She pauses.
"Only," she sighs, "It seems a waste."
"What does?" I say, cautiously reaching for her arm. I pull her closer. My nose rests against hers. My forehead against her forehead. I can feel her heart beating through her shirt. It beats against my right hand side. Mine beats on the left.
"All this time, here, us, and we haven't..."
I kiss her.
I won't let us waste it.
Not this time.
She pulls away, "Can I keep you?" she says, softly. "Like this?"
I don't want to answer. I kiss her again, rolling her underneath me, holding her waist against mine as she reaches up towards me, her hands pulling at my trousers.
Whatever happens, I would be some kind of idiot if I didn't seize this moment for every second of its worth.
The bra, by the way, is indeed, spectacular. It is as perfect as perfect could be.