Author's Note: Thanks for the responses to Chapter 7 :) Hope this update satisfies …

I have nothing but apoligies to offer for my long absense – I've had a number of distressing personal situations come to the fore, and I also had a rough time at school. In short, I'm very very sorry for the delay, and I hope that this update makes up for at least part of it.

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed.

Chapter 8

Martin groaned and put a hand to his head. With a start, he jerked his hand away, as he felt something – sticky on his forehead. He looked down at his hand and was mildly surprised to see a red stain across it.

Blood. Ah hell.

He remembered now; remembered the sudden jolt as their car was knocked to one side of the roadway. He had a vague memory of someone shouting in alarm – was it him? – and of Ricky struggling desperately to maintain control of the car, before – darkness.

He struggled to look around him. The car was lying in a ditch, by the looks of his surrounds. He wondered momentarily that – apparently – no other cars had stopped to help them, before he remembered that the road they had been driving on had been practically devoid of all cars.

Looking over towards the drivers seat, a sudden anomaly struck him. It was empty. But … he thought, forcing his dizzy head to consider possibilities, Ricky? Where is he? He peered outside the car as best he could from his twisted position, but could see no sign of his friend.

Martin sighed, and decided to leave that puzzle for another moment. For the time being, as his head cleared, he began to look to getting himself clear of the car, as another alarming thought struck him. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but from the look of the front of the car, it was possible – if not probable – that the engine had been severely damaged in the crash, and if that was so, the car catching alight was a very real – and very horrifying – possibility.

He looked around himself, trying to gauge the extent of the damage. Suddenly his eye fell on a – shape lying out on the ground. His blood ran cold. Ricky.

Ricky lay still on the ground about two metres away from the car, in the shadow of the embankment.

Martin turned his attention to extricating himself from the car, looking down towards his legs and feet. He was able to freely move his right foot and leg, however, his left leg felt trapped. He reached down experimentally and felt a piece of metal resting across his leg about halfway down his shin. He tried to wedge his fingers underneath it, but with no success.

He could smell petrol even stronger on the air, and this lent him a desperate strength as he clawed at the metal holding him prisoner in the car. After a few agonising seconds, he managed to get two fingers on his right hand underneath the bar, and he began attempting to push upwards, wedging another finger and then his thumb under there in his struggle.

He pushed the metal up by another fraction of an inch, suppressing a groan of pain. He pulled backwards gently with his leg, and felt – to his delight – it coming loose. He pulled backwards quicker, angling his foot, and quickly setting himself free. He released the metal bar, and it fell to the floor of the car. Hastily, Martin felt his leg for breaks or cuts; it appeared, from what he could tell, however, that he had been lucky – the bone felt sound, and other than mild pain from bruising, he was not in any great distress.

He crawled out of the car and towards Ricky, who had still not moved. As he reached his friend, he felt at Ricky's neck. To his relief, he felt a pulse; probably a little too fait for comfort, but a pulse nonetheless.

Exhausted by his efforts, Martin shook his head, trying to stop the blackness from encompassing him. He tried to think of what he should do; tried to reach for the phone he thought he had in his pocket … but unconsciousness overtook his senses and he slumped to the ground, dead to the world.

To be continued …

Pathetically short, I know, but I should have another chapter up in a week or two.