A Killer Call (standard:drama, 1413 words)
Author: Cyrano	Added: Oct 28 2006	Views/Reads: 3514/2258	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A young man makes a call on his cell phone while driving...

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


“174 Fore Street, Northwood, Middlesex.” 

The policeman leans in toward the nurse, now standing at the back of my
head, having a word in her ear. I hear the whispers, like moth wings in 
my head. I try looking backward, pushing my neck into the pillow, 
pushing my eyeballs into my head in vain. 

“Mr. Schofield, I have to tell you some sad news I'm afraid. The car you
were driving, well it mounted a pavement. I'm afraid a mother and her 
child were killed.” 

The pressure of blood in my brain sluices down my neck and away from my
head. Nausea floods my stomach and I feel a blue depth approaching as 
this revelation washes over me. 

“Harry... Harry...look at me, it's okay, gently now... gently... you're
okay....  And again I feel her hand gripping mine. I hold on tightly. 

My head is exploding, barking bouts of pain enter and leave in cycles of
agony. My brain cannot control its own thought; it runs wild, 
“why...how...what happened?” But my voice won't say the words aloud. 

The nurse tilts my head forward, offering me a sip of water. I feel its
cool run into my mouth, but I'm unable to swallow and the surplus seeps 
back between my lips, running down my neck and forming a puddle below 
my ‘Adams Apple'. 

“Try to relax your body, Harry, you're having a hard time breathing.
In...out...in and out...keep in time with me please, big breath ... 
in...now out... and again...in... and out, that's better, keep that 
going.” She calls the policeman back. “You can continue now,” She says, 
squeezing my hand. 

“Do you recall using a cell phone at any time, Mr. Schofield?” 

I feel a drift of guilt; trying hard to recall, trying to see myself at
the wheel, see the cell phone. 

“No, sir, I do not recall anything. Cell phone?” 

“Yes, sir, eye witnesses say you were seen driving without due care, you
were using a cell phone. You definitely don't recall this?” 

There was a deep, dark resonance to his voice. He believes I do recall
and am not admitting to it. It's in the timbre of his voice, his 
inflection on the word ‘definitely' told all. 

My mind cannot imagine it...a mother and a child, dead! A fog thickens
before my eyes. I feel profoundly alone and afraid. I'm alive and a 
mother and child are dead...because I was using a cell phone whilst 
driving? 

How can this destruction have happened to me? To them? Innocently
standing, or walking, when my car smashes into them. My thoughtless 
act. A cell phone, my God. A call, to who, why, what could have been so 
important that I would risk such havoc and death on someone... for a 
damn phone call! The lamp above my head seems distant. I feel far... 
far underground. What a senseless world...as bad as being drunk at the 
wheel...using a cell phone and somehow driven into a woman and child. 
Dear God...Dear God...tears begin to well. 

“Do you have a reading there, nurse?” The policeman asks. 

It's a distant question, somewhere out there, but audible. I turn my
eyes. 

“Yes, Mr. Tomlin, it's a good reading. I think we're done here.” 

“Great, I'm meeting with my wife this evening, it's our twentieth
anniversary.” 

“Congratulations...here, let me take that jacket from you.” 

The nurse holds her arms up to his shoulders while he turns away and
shrugs the jacket down his arms. I feel my legs twitch. 

“Let me have a look, please...” The Policeman asks. 

The nurse walks to the wall and I hear paper being torn from a machine. 

“Hmmm... quite good, excellent in fact. I'll sign him off and if you
don't mind I'll get off home, the traffic will be building up.” 

Feeling is flooding back into my legs. My head clearing to
sounds...perfect sound, no echo, not sense of noise being far off. 

“Do you feel like you could swing your legs off the gurney?” The nurse
asks. Her voice isn't the same, not the tender voice that reassured me. 


It seems distant but this time for real. 

I hear traffic, people talking outside the door. 

“You'll be remembering why you came about now, Mr. Schofield.” She says,
busily signing papers at a desk. 

I look round, still feeling half drunk, feeble, slightly nervous. 

“Don't worry, you now have a full driving licence. You passed the
simulated accident scenario. Your guilt level was excellent.” She holds 
out a sheet of paper. “Just hand this to the receptionist when you 
leave. If you need a cup of tea, or if you still feel a little unsure 
of yourself, there's a waiting room. The recptionist will show you 
there.” 

By the time I reach reception I'm recalling saying cheerio to my mum and
dad, recall mum shouting...”good luck.” And dad, yes, saying: 

“You'll be fine, son. Pass this and you'll be driving all over the
place. Phone us straight away. We'll keep our fingers crossed. And 
don't worry if you fail on your first go, lots do. Bye son.” 

Yes, now I recall driving to take my final exam, the exam that will give
me my full driving license. 

The lady behind the counter, wearing 'John Lennon' glasses, her hair
tied back in a bun, and with only half a look of congratulation, hands 
me my full driving license. 


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