I spit my puke, gather up all three vests and hurl them the hell away. Jiao’s trying to comfort Trav, her face as pale as his. She must be thinking the same way as me, because her only words are practical ones. ‘Let’s get him into the back seat,’ she says. ‘Can you drive the car?’ ‘I hope so. Take his feet,’ I say, already working my way around behind him so I can loop my arms under his chest. I heave him up, wincing at a bitchy spasm in my back. Trav lets out a terrible mew of pain. ‘I’m sorry, mate, I’m sorry.’ There’s blood caking my hands now and cold sweat stinging my eyes. We manoeuvre him on to the back seat and lie him down. Next we have to get the damn car out of the ditch — and that means I’m stuck pushing it myself. I shove it into reverse (thank god the gears are etched into the stick) and show Jiao how to accelerate and use the clutch. It’s the blind leading the bloody blind — I only ever had one lesson in George’s car, and that was over two years ago.
What do You think about Nature Of Ash, The (2012)?
