Albert Peterson - The Hibernia Strain

The implications of this development hit me like a smack in the mouth. The nearest junctions connecting our two roads are about two kilometres behind us and five kilometres ahead of us.

I don’t waste a second, as I stress all two hundred horses under the bonnet to their limit; the VW roars forward.

This action acts like a starting pistol to the creeps across the river, who dart towards their piece of shit car in perfect synchronicity.

Emma who apparently hasn’t noticed that we were spotted is shoved back into her seat. Before she can disapprove, she sees the car driving in parallel to us with six sets of ominous eyes peering over at us. Her automatic reaction is to buckle herself in, in a frenzy of frantic arm movements.

They’re pulling ahead of us. I don’t know where they came across that car or what kind of over funded boy racer souped it up, but they’re going to cut us off and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I grab the open can from the cup holder and down the liquid inside, spilling a good third of it down my chin as I do.

The can contains the sweetest, most sugar saturated sports drink I could find in the shop earlier. I opened it as we pulled off when Emma started her driving shift, and I dropped in at least twenty pep pills to dissolve. The idea was I could sip it throughout my next turn behind the wheel.

There’s no time for sipping now, as I dodge and weave through the jagged wrecks scattered along the road. I need to focus. The menacing car is still speeding along parallel to us, all the while slowly pulling away towards the bridge up ahead.

I can feel myself getting carried away again, so in the three minutes or so it will take to reach the bridge I need to quickly review the situation and the few options available to us. We can;

Stay where we are and try to prepare for their inevitable arrival, making it six against two.

Go back the road we came, giving us little or no advantage in out running them, not to mention the fact we’d be going the wrong way.

We could switch to four by four mode and sail up the embankment where their overpowered racer can’t follow, making a clean quiet escape; except the entire length of the motorway is clad in high tensile crash barriers. Besides, a clean and quiet escape, that’s not really getting into the spirit of things now, is it?

That leaves option four… I’ve got a plan.

I know the bridge we’re heading towards well. It’s stuck in my head because I nearly lost the front of my car to a speeding truck three weeks ago, while trying to pull of it onto the road we’re currently hurtling down.

An awkwardly placed wall and the general lack to pruning of the roadside trees make it a death trap, and that just so happens to be what I need right now.

The jeep is reaching top speed. I tell Emma to watch the road and take the wheel as I focus all my attention on the car across the river. They’re about five car lengths ahead of us now and still pulling away slowly.

She seems to trust me enough to do what I’ve asked without the need for an explanation. I’ve got to get the timing perfect and I’ll only get one shot to time this right.

I begin to ease off on the accelerator, allowing them to pull even further ahead. Emma looks at me with a mix of urgency and puzzlement on her face. I see her stare at me in my peripheral vision as I focus on the other car.

She pauses for a second or two before her expression drops and she turns a shade whiter with the realisation that we’re not trying to outrun them; it’s a collision course we’re on.

I continue to subtly reduce my speed, as they put more and more distance between us, hoping they’re stupid enough to think they have us well beaten.

My eyes are glued to their car as I use every brain cell I have to try and judge their speed. I know we’ll lose sight of each other on the approach to the bridge and I need to predict when they’ll pop out the other side.

As they disappear behind the trees I straighten up, snap back control of the wheel from Emma and unleash the full power of the VW. There’s just enough road left ahead to reach ramming speed by the time we reach the junction.

It’s all down to the accuracy of my prediction now. I block out Emma’s protests but they do inspire slivers of self doubt. What if I’ve placed too much faith in the jeep’s durability? What if I don’t get the timing right? They could build up enough speed to cause us some serious damage. What if I’m in the middle of a sleep deprived, pep pill fuelled craze and leading us to disaster? Thank fuck I went for the jeep with the bull bars.

Whether its adrenalin or the pep pill cocktail taking effect, I’m feeling sharp, I feel good. I can see sweat droplets dripping off my hands and running down the wheel, I’m barely even aware of Emma’s presence next to me anymore but I know she’s shouting something.

If this is Society 2.0, well then I’m going to be a contributing citizen. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, I didn’t even realise I had a smile on my face.

The exit of the bridge is approaching at a blistering pace, thirty metres… twenty metres… ten metres, with no sign of the anything. I fucked it up.

At the last possible second, just as the self doubt is at its highest, out shoots the car. I catch a quick flash of the emotionless, dead eyed faces before the shock of impact and the detonation of multiple airbags shocks me back to reality. T-Bone!

I come to my senses to the sight of a large bloody chunk of hair, with scalp still attached, smeared across the shattered windscreen.

We’re at a dead stop five metres down the road and facing the opposite direction. I feel rattled to my bones, like I’ve just been rolled down a mountain in a barrel, straight into a brick wall. I think the small finger on my right hand is broken along with what feels like a cracked rib on my right side.

Emma has a trickle of blood running down between her eyes, and she’s nursing her right leg.

I clumsily grope around and flick on the wipers, only to see the little stump that’s left of the wiper wiggle about doing absolutely nothing to help the situation. I find this sight quite funny and without thinking I turn to Emma with a chuckle. She obviously doesn’t see the funny side.

…Matt would have found it funny.

Not much can be seen through the shattered, bloody windscreen, so I poke my head through the hole in the door next to me, where the window used to be.

I look around to check on our would-be pursuers. It’s clear that four of the six are no longer a threat, especially the one and a half of them spread across the bonnet in front of me. It’s a grizzly sight. I turn my head and gag a little.

I regain my composure and step out to survey the damage. I’m struck by the calm of our surroundings, the speed, the adrenaline, the anger, the excitement, all replaced by the serenity of the Irish countryside.

The sun is beginning to set, filling the sky with a red tint and apart from the slight rustle of the warm breeze through the grass, there’s dead silence.

The car they we’re travelling in is mangled beyond recognition. The jeep tore through it like it was made of tinfoil. The VW has seen better days too. The bull bars took the brunt of the smash, but it’s sitting lopsided on the road with the front end pretty torn up. It’s hard to judge the extent of the damage with two carcasses still clinging to it, but by the looks of it the radiator is leaking a bit.

As I approach the wreck, I see that two more of them are clearly dead, there’s no doubt. Another is still in the car, in the back seat where the car took the least damage. She’s twitching and making an intermittent gurgling sound. I’m not even sure if that means she’s still alive or not. The last one is still trying his best to crawl towards me, but at this stage it’s apparent he’s no more of a threat than any of the others.