Doug Johnstone - Hit and run

‘I’m fucking fine,’ he said, irritated. He rubbed his arm. ‘What the fuck happened?’

‘We hit something.’ Billy looked through the back windscreen at the curve of road behind them.

‘No shit.’ Charlie followed Billy’s gaze. ‘What was it?’

‘I don’t know.’

Billy opened his door and eased out, his body stiff, his legs shaky. He walked to the rear of the car. He heard the click and clunk of car doors as Charlie and Zoe followed.

In the red glow of the Micra’s tail lights, he could see something on the road a few yards away. He walked unsteadily towards it.

‘Christ.’ He rubbed the lump on his temple. His hands shook and he felt his breath shorten. He inched forward until he was standing over the body. It was face down, torso twisted sideways, legs splayed out. It was a man, middle-aged, in a suit and tie. Short hair.

‘Mate?’ Billy’s voice was quivering and high. ‘Are you all right?’

Charlie was next to him now. ‘Is he alive?’

Billy looked at his brother. ‘You’re the doctor.’

Charlie knelt down and took the man’s wrist. Billy could hear the faint sound of traffic in the distance, over the embankment. He could see right down to Holyrood Park, just wildlife and darkness. The stars still sparkled overhead.

‘I’m not getting anything,’ Charlie said.

He turned the body over. The face was a bloody mess, a sticky pool of dark red left on the road.

‘Fucking hell,’ Billy said.

Charlie put two fingers to the man’s neck and waited a few moments.

Billy was aware of Zoe next to him, her body rigid.

Charlie sighed. ‘He’s dead.’

‘Shit,’ Zoe said, and took Billy’s hand.

Billy pulled away. His chest tightened. He struggled to breathe. The lump on his head pounded pain through his body. He pulled his mobile out.

Charlie stood up. ‘Wait a minute, what are you doing?’

Billy pressed 999. ‘What do you think I’m doing?’

‘Let’s think about this.’

‘What is there to think about?’

Billy pressed ‘call’. Charlie strode towards him and grappled the phone from his hand. Billy didn’t resist too hard. Charlie was shorter but stronger, more determined. You couldn’t win a fight with Charlie.

Charlie pressed ‘end call’ and waved the phone at Billy. ‘You want to ruin our lives? Is that what you want?’

‘But…’

‘He’s dead, there’s nothing we can do.’

‘But we have to report it.’ Billy’s voice was straining.

‘We’re all drunk. And loaded on stolen medical supplies. You were driving. It’ll kill our careers, wreck our lives. Is that what Mum would’ve wanted?’

Billy felt tears spring to his eyes. He couldn’t think straight.

‘Charlie’s right,’ Zoe said.

Billy had forgotten she was there. He turned. He couldn’t work out the look in her eyes. She had a hand out, reaching for him, pleading. He wanted to grab her and hold her until this all went away.

‘There’s no point making things any worse,’ she said. ‘It was an accident. He came out of nowhere. None of us saw him.’

Billy looked round, his heart hammering against his ribcage. ‘So we just drive off? Is that what you’re saying?’

A faint noise made them turn. Down the hill in the distance, two headlights were reaching out along Queen’s Drive. The growl of a diesel engine. A taxi. Still a long way away. There was a chance it might turn right at the roundabout, head past the Standard offices instead of up the hill.

‘Shit,’ Charlie said.

He turned to the other two. ‘Zoe, kill the lights. Billy, come here.’

They both stood still, staring at the headlights in the distance.

‘Do it,’ he shouted, making them jump. Zoe ran to the car as Charlie pulled his brother staggering towards the body.

‘Get his legs.’

Billy held the man’s ankles. Expensive leather shoes, scuffed now. He felt Charlie lift the man’s arms.

Charlie pointed at the small clump of trees to the side of the road. ‘That way.’

Billy shuffled backwards with the ankles in his grip, almost dropping them. The man’s arse scraped on the tarmac between them.

They were plunged into near darkness as Zoe reached the car and switched the lights off. She removed the key and slammed the door, then headed over to them.

Charlie and Billy looked the other way. The taxi went straight on at the roundabout, heading up the hill towards them. Still some distance, headlights pointing away, thanks to the bend in the road.

They struggled to the pavement with the body, the headlights creeping round the opposite embankment towards them. Zoe took an ankle from Billy as they lugged the body. They reached the edge of the slope and heaved the corpse down into the trees and thick foliage.

The taxi was almost on them now, chugging up the hill. Charlie and Zoe grabbed Billy and shoved him down the embankment, diving after him.

Billy landed in thick nettles, stinging his hands, his face only a few inches from the dead man. Charlie landed next to him with a thump, Zoe rolling on top of Charlie in the mayhem.

They heard the taxi engine ease off as the driver spotted the parked car and slowed. Then the revs picked up as he sped past the Micra and disappeared up the hill.

The fading engine rumble left a vacuum behind. All Billy could hear was his own heavy breathing and a thin rustling of leaves. Zoe extricated herself from Charlie then the two of them got up. Billy didn’t look at the dead body, only a few inches away to his right. Instead he gazed up at the sky packed full of stars.

Zoe and Charlie offered him their hands, and he let himself be lifted. Every movement meant more nettle stings, but Billy somehow enjoyed the sharp jabs of pain.

They scrambled up the bank, Zoe and Charlie ahead of him. Billy looked along the road. Darkness in both directions.

‘Come on,’ Charlie said. He pushed Billy into the back seat of the Micra then took the keys from Zoe. ‘I’ll drive.’

He got in the driving seat, Zoe in the front passenger seat. Billy alone in the back. Charlie started the engine and switched the lights on, then pulled out sharply, forcing Billy into his seat. As they drove away, he stared out the window at the starry sky, his mind numb.

Charlie opened the front door.

‘I need a fucking drink.’

Billy felt Zoe’s hand on his back, nudging him forward. He stumbled into the flat. Charlie was already heading downstairs to the basement kitchen and they followed like zombies.

Charlie set out three long tumblers and half-filled each with vodka from the freezer. He handed them out.

‘Here.’

The three of them stood around the breakfast table. The spotlighting made it look like they were hatching a plot. Billy stared at the liquid in his glass then looked at Charlie, who had downed his already and was refilling it.

‘We did the right thing,’ Charlie said.

‘Did we?’ Billy stared back at his glass.

Charlie took Billy’s glass from him and set it on the table. He pulled a chair out. ‘Sit down.’

Billy sat. Zoe took the chair next to him, Charlie across the table. Their three glasses made sweat marks on the scuffed pine.

‘We didn’t have any choice,’ Charlie said. ‘There’s nothing we could’ve done for him.’

‘We should’ve reported it,’ Billy said.

Charlie took Billy’s hand across the table. ‘Look at me.’

Billy lifted his head. His brother’s eyes were cold.

‘What would’ve happened if we’d called the police?’

Billy didn’t speak.

‘What would’ve happened?’

Billy shook his head.

‘We would all have been arrested. Breathalysed. Drug tests. Prison. No jobs, no future. Criminal records. You would’ve got it worst, you were driving.’