Deadline
“The figure was motionless. I couldn’t make out any features. Man or woman, I couldn’t tell. Light fell across the Honda from a streetlamp, but didn’t illuminate the inside of the car. I opened the door on the driver’s side and the interior light kicked on. The stench of brandy was overpowering. It filled the warm space of the interior like a toxic nerve gas. The figure’s head was slumped forward.
I touched it tentatively and it rolled a little to one side. I saw it was Harry Pushkas – eyes shut..., mouth open. Blood ran from just above his scalp-line and down his right cheek. I looked for the source of the wound as I shook Harry’s arm and urged, ‘Wake up, wake up!’ He wasn’t responding. I felt his blood on my fingers and the palm of my hand. I said it again, ‘Harry, Harry, wake up!’ and I gripped the shoulders of his jacket – that old navy-blue shapeless double-breasted garment he wore every day of his life – and shook him vigorously.
Nothing, nothing. I placed a fingertip to his left eyelid and pushed it up.MoreLess
I touched it tentatively and it rolled a little to one side. I saw it was Harry Pushkas – eyes shut..., mouth open. Blood ran from just above his scalp-line and down his right cheek. I looked for the source of the wound as I shook Harry’s arm and urged, ‘Wake up, wake up!’ He wasn’t responding. I felt his blood on my fingers and the palm of my hand. I said it again, ‘Harry, Harry, wake up!’ and I gripped the shoulders of his jacket – that old navy-blue shapeless double-breasted garment he wore every day of his life – and shook him vigorously.
Nothing, nothing. I placed a fingertip to his left eyelid and pushed it up.MoreLess
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