The sun had risen fully yet remained hidden behind the murky slate sky, breaking through on the odd occasion as if to torment the people of LA with a glimpse of what they were missing.
Jesse lay in the middle of the highway, his weak body shaking as he struggled to take in shuddering breaths.
Mark knelt besides him, watching his chest rise and fall erratically, an unhealthy rasping noise emanating with every gruelling gasp.
The noise, though alarming in its sheer incompatibility with anything that could be considered as healthy, came like music to Mark's ears. Each gasp signified Jesse's continued fight for life, and for that he was truly thankful.
The adrenaline rush that had seen him through the preceding minutes drained away and Mark felt exhaustion so complete that he dared not attempt to move for fear of collapsing. Instead he sat, breathing deeply the morning air that held the promise of reviving his flagging energy levels with every inhalation.
The fine mist of rain coloured his vision a speckled grey as he looked up the empty highway. The persistent lack of any traffic inferred to him that the flooded road had not yet been cleared, and that their journey, arduous though it was, was not yet at an end.
The faint patter of rain as it hit the tarmac was all that could be heard on the long empty stretch of road until a muffled groaning noise startled Mark from his brooding ruminations.
"Steve!" Mark dropped one hand to the ground and pushed himself up, ignoring the gritty handful of water which immediately coated his palm, focusing only on his hither to forgotten son.
Mark clambered into the jeep, kneeling besides Steve in the cramped quarters of the back of the vehicle.
"Steve?" Mark, his brow furrowed in consternation, bent low over his semi-conscious son, thoughts of self-recrimination and concern vying for space in his mind.
The immediacy of Jesse's plight had driven all else from his thoughts, and as such he had been blinded to Steve's needs.
You had to focus on Jesse, Mark reasoned to himself, he would have died.
Mark knew these thoughts to be true, and his actions to be entirely justified.
And yet the swell of guilt surged in his chest, weighing him down heavily.
Skilled hands carefully probing Steve's twisted body, Mark examined his son. Gently searching, seeking out any abnormalities that would signify injury.
Mark scrutinised Steve's face as he carried out his examination, looking for any changes in expression that would imply increased pain. Finding nothing untoward Mark turned his attention to trying to rouse Steve, to reassure himself that his lack of response was nothing more serious than the concussion he had already diagnosed.
"Steve?" Having been satisfied that there were no spinal injuries Mark shook his recumbent son gently, but received no response greater than a muted groan.
"Steve" Mark shook slightly harder than was perhaps necessary, but a combination of guilt and anxiety forced his hand in insisting in a reaction.
A crinkled frown lined Steve's brow ever so slightly, and the volume of his groaning increased.
"Steve? Steve, can you hear me?" Mark agitated Steve's body again, and on the third occasion was rewarded with a bleary eyed squint as Steve finally began to stir.
Releasing a deep sigh Mark briefly closed his eyes, a silent word of thanks passing through his mind and relief flooding his veins. The weight of guilt lifted slightly as Mark again looked down at his son, who blinked his eyes dazedly at the sudden influx of light.
"mnmmnm." he mumbled incoherently, squinting slightly and continuing to blink back the blanket of confusion.
"Dad?" Steve managed to say, his lips sticking together dryly, his mouth feeling as though it had been stuffed with cotton wool.
A smile broke out on Mark's face as he heard his son speak, his concern lessening at the single utterance.
"Steve, it's ok. Everything's going to be ok." Mark rested his hand onto Steve's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.
"What happened?" Steve murmured, labouring to push himself up into a sitting position, the muscles in his one uninjured arm trembling at the exertion as he did so. A wave of dizziness rolled over him, and his head lolled forwards onto his chest.
"Whoa." he murmured, the head-rush making his motionless head feel as though the insides were continuing to move; a quite unpleasant sensation that gave his entire surrounding an unbalanced quality.
Mark increased his grip on Steve's shoulder, providing a firm hand of support for his wavering son.
"Ok?" Mark's simple question went unanswered for a few moments, during which time the wave of dizziness began to wane, allowing Steve time to stabilize himself to a point at which he felt able to shrug off his father's steadying hand.
"Yeah, just dizzy." Steve met his father's eyes and attempted a conciliatory smile.
"What hap. Where's Jesse?" The sudden expression of panic which flashed across Steve's face was quite alarming, and he snapped his head from side to side as if searching the cramped, and obviously empty, space for Jesse.
The change in expression was again almost instantaneous, changing from one of concern to one of queasiness as the sudden movement prompted the swift return of the lingering giddiness.
Steve retched, nausea heaving in his stomach.
He pushed at his father, trying to clear him from his path, and Mark, recognising his son's urgency, quickly clambered out of the jeep.
Steve scampered forwards out of the vehicle, staggering on unwilling legs away from the car. Retching again he hunched over and vomited, beads of perspiration peppering his forehead.
Mark stood back watching Steve, absently shifting his weight from foot to foot; a dull ache in his lower back reminding him of his lack of sleep. He resisted the urge to rush forwards and fuss over his obviously suffering son, knowing too well Steve's dislike for attention whenever he was ill or injured. Instead he stayed back, his eyes flitting between the hunched form of his son, and the almost unmoving figure that was Jesse. The contrast between the two was stark, and his concern for each exhausting.
The heaving sensation in his gut decreasing, Steve straightened up, gasping for breath. He wiped the back of a shaking hand across his lips, swallowing back the bitter taste that had been left in his mouth.
"Steve?"
Amanda's voice came as a slight surprise to Steve who had been oblivious to his surroundings outside of the jeep. He turned slowly, acutely aware of the throbbing in his head, and looked for the location of the voice.
Amanda had apparently been sitting in the road, but she appeared to be pulling herself to her feet.
"Amanda? What.? Jesse?"
Steve shifted slowly, holding his neck rigid and moving his body stiffly as one, stopping as his eyes came to rest on Jesse supine form.
The shuddering labour of Jesse's chest had eased slightly but remained visible to the eye, and Steve took it in with a mixture of relief and concern. The movement was far from normal, yet instantly signified the fact that he was breathing, and the knot of concern that was clenched in the pit of his stomach slackened slightly.
"It's a good job he's so stubborn." Mark had approached Steve from behind and rested a hand on his shoulder, trying lightly to reassure him. Jesse's good-natured tenacity was well remarked upon between the group, but Mark's attempt at light-hearted encouragement fell flat, and for a brief moment silence sat heavily between the three friends.
The indistinct chatter of the light precipitation began to drum down slightly harder, tapping a noisy rhythm onto every surface that lay unsheltered from the rain, and it was this that spurred the weary Mark into action.
"Come on," he said lifting his hand from Steve's taut shoulder, fatigue evident in his voice, "We have to keep moving, Amanda?" Walking past his son, and offering a half-hearted smile to Amanda as he indicated her help was required, Mark stiffly bent his body down to Jesse.
Steve listened distractedly as Mark and Amanda debated the best way to move Jesse back to the jeep without further aggravating his injuries. Unable to assist he was instead captivated by the minute sound which had caught his attention.
Peering up and down the desolate highway Steve looked for the source of the noise, wondering if perhaps it was resounding solely in his own head, a by-product of the numerous blows he had received that day.
Shades of grey tinted the gloomy vista, gritty and bleak Steve suddenly felt very isolated.
The sound was getting louder.
What was that noise?
Steve screwed his eyes up against the rain. He mind still felt clogged with confusion, and he felt slowed and stupid. The storm clouded his vision, gusts of wind carrying the downpour sideways obscuring his gaze.
From up the road a light had appeared, growing larger and more vibrant.
Shining like a beacon through the murky half-light, headlights illuminated a path through the deluge.
The ambulance had arrived.
Note: Hi everyone, hope you liked this chapter. Just a quick note to say sorry that the story is coming in slower than it used to - what can I say? Like most people I don't have the luxury of spending all of my time writing - a hazard of modern day living! I am writing as I go along, and if you want to bear with me the story will be completed.
Thanks to everyone for the great reviews,
Sarah