Stuart MacBride - Birthdays for the dead

A swirl of sour steam wafted up from the puddle of vomit. I spat, wiped the string of spittle from my chin with my sleeve.

Foot felt a lot better now. No more throbbing.

I limped across the car park, past the dark and silent lorries, to the garage at the end. Its forecourt and pumps were all lit up like Las Vegas. Even had a wee shop attached where you could pay for your petrol.

I wobbled in, bought six bottles of water, a couple of Ginsters pasties, and a packet of extra-strong mints. The guy behind the counter looked at me as if I was about to bite him.

I paid in cash. Turned. And stopped. Frowned. There were dark-red streaks on the grey terrazzo floor, as if someone had dragged a chunk of fresh roadkill across it. Didn t notice them on the way in. Too focused on getting something to drink.

Cheeky bastard: staring at me like I was some sort of freak, when he was the one with the filthy bloody floor.

More streaks on the faded tarmac outside.

Place was a pigsty.

I limped back towards the car.

The water was ice cold; I gulped down a whole bottle, scrunched up the plastic and dumped it in a forecourt bin. Then tore open the ham-and-cheese pastry. Wasn t really hungry, but heroin and amphetamines probably weren t a great idea on an empty stomach. I drained the second bottle and started in on the cheese-and-onion slice, getting flakes of pale gold all down the front of my shirt.

I brushed them away. Frowned again. My shirt was all stained with something reddish-brown. That wasn t right Oh, sodding hell: Big Ed s fist in my face. My tongue found the gap at the side where those two loose teeth used to be, jagged stumps sticking out of the gum.

You d think it would hurt more.

Ash?

Must be the drugs.

Oh, Ash, what happened to you?

Raising my head was like dragging an anchor through mud. Getting her in focus was even harder. Dr McDonald?

It was: it was her. She was standing beside the Renault, wearing a big thick parka jacket, both arms wrapped around herself. No glasses, but lots of black eye makeup, lipstick so dark it was almost black, straight black hair, just like Katie She looked beautiful.

She rushed over and threw her arms around me, buried her head against my chest.

I dropped my shopping and hugged her back.

My little girl.

Ash? Ash, there s another sign for the hospital The morning was dark as a funeral. A heavy lid of grey hung over the three lanes of motorway, tiny flakes of delicate white sacrificing themselves against the Renault s windscreen, holding on for a moment before they melted, or the wiper scraped their corpses to one side.

Ash?

I blinked, squinted. All the motorway signs were perched on top of concrete lintels spanning the road, glowing orange lettering telling Dr McDonald to BE A COURTEOUS DRIVER, USE YOUR MIRRORS, and SPEED KILLS.

Especially when you mixed it with heroin.

Ash, I said there s another

No hospitals.

She bit her bottom lip, that little crease denting her forehead between her eyebrows. You need to see a doctor, they

It s a gunshot wound, they have to report it by law. Soon as they do, that s it: the police turn up, I can t leave, and Katie s dead. I rested my head against the cool window. Anyway, you re a doctor.

No I m not. I mean I am a doctor, but not that kind of doctor, I don t know anything about bullet holes, I ve only ever seen them on dead bodies She reached across and put a hand on my leg. Please don t

Oldcastle. We have to go to Oldcastle. I took another swig of water.

Thirsty I rubbed a hand across my gritty eyes. Squinted out at the snow. It was heavier now, still not enough to lie on the ink-black road, but working on it. The traffic crawled in front of us, corralled into one lane by a regiment of orange cones, yellow lights flashing.

You re awake. Dr McDonald reached behind her seat and came out with a bottle of mineral water. How are you feeling?

I screwed the top off and drank. Downed half the bottle and surfaced again with a gasp. Where are we?

Coming up to Stirling. Traffic s horrible.

Stirling A smile pulled at my face.

Rebecca loved the Wallace Monument. Every time we went south we had to climb the bloody thing All the way up to the top so she could see everything.

Ash, I m worried about

Katie hated it. I drained the rest of the bottle. Frowned. How did you find me? I turned round and there you were

You need someone to look at your foot.

In the car park, at the services, there you were

We had fish and chips in the car on Saturday night: you let me borrow your phone because I told you my battery was dead I knew something was going to happen, I was worried about you and everything was going wrong, so I downloaded an app onto your phone that would track where you were. She hunched her shoulders, getting closer to the steering wheel. Don t be angry with me.

Dr McDonald

Alice. Why can t you call me Alice? Please.

I nodded. Alice. Not Dr McDonald. Alice: thank you for coming to get me. Thank you for not making me go to hospital. And thank you for helping me find Katie.

She turned and beamed at me. We ll find her, won t we?

Ten o clock. We had seven hours.

Have to stop Something was eating my foot, chewing through the flesh and sinews and bone with sharp metallic teeth. Stop

Alice looked across the car at me. You should sleep.

Can t The River Tay was a flat grey smear on the far side of the dual carriageway, a long line of skeletal trees standing guard in front of it. Waiting to drag us down into the frozen earth. Hurts. Need my medication.

You shouldn t She flexed her fingers around the steering wheel. Ash, it s poison.

It works. I tried Diclofenac and Tramadol: barely made a dent in it. We have to stop

Alice licked her lips. Can you hold out till Dundee?

Burning petrol surged up my leg, blue-tinged fire that crackled and fizzed, eating away the muscles and charring the bone beneath.

Ash?

I screwed my eyes tight shut. Gritted my teeth. Nodded. Dundee.

Need to stop for petrol soon anyway.

Warmth spread out from the middle of my chest, forcing the shredding blades down into my leg, then my shin, then my foot then gone. The car s headrest was like a warm lap beneath my head.

A cool hand on my brow, stroked the pain away.

You re burning up.

Mmmm I let go of the syringe the other half of this morning s wrapper let it fall to the grimy carpet.

Do you want a sandwich, or I bought some crisps?

M not hungry.

Ash, you have to eat something, and you have to drink lots of fluids, and you can t keep doing this, we have to go to hospital.

Need Henry

She bit her bottom lip. Sat back in her seat. Looked down at her lap. He s not answering his phone.

The engine purred into life, and we were moving again, falling through the snow, fat white flakes like starbursts in the cold morning light.

There was an egg sandwich in my lap. I stared at it, but it didn t do anything. Rebecca liked egg sandwiches. She had this this imaginary friend when she was wee, she said he was a cereal killer. Every time we found all the Sugar Puffs gone, it would be Naughty Nigel s fault. Wasn t so keen on Bran Flakes though. I rested my cheek against the passenger window, cool and smooth. It s been such a long time.

I m sorry she ran away.

She didn t run away. He took her.

The Kingsway was busy, cars and buses carving their way across Dundee s back, avoiding its vital organs. Off to the right, the retail park where the Party Crashers had camped out on the fifth floor of a chain hotel drifted by at fifty miles an hour. Only a week ago, but it might as well have been months.

I cradled the egg sandwich against my chest like a baby. We didn t know what happened to her Michelle still doesn t. One day Rebecca was there, and we were planning this big party, and the next she was gone. No note, no word. I got the first card on Rebecca s fourteenth birthday. Happy birthday! The number one scratched into the top corner, so I d know there d be more to come.