Salby (Book 2): Salby Evolution by Ian D. Moore Read Free Book Online Page B

pushed around my system by my rapid heartbeat. My head felt light, woozy, and images began to blur. I managed to stand on my own, though the proximity of the car was the only thing to keep me upright.
    “Are you okay? You look bad,” Barbie observed, as she came to my aid.
    “Barb, I need help. Something is wrong. Barbie—”
    “Rest a minute, just take a moment, you’ll be fine. The wound is pretty deep but doesn’t seem to be bleeding too much. I’ll look at it when we get out of here. Reckon you can make it to the car?” her brow furrowed as she spoke.
    I tried hard to focus on her beautiful blue eyes. They had shone when I first met her, so bright that the impression remained in my mind. Now, her face swooned in and out, distorted by unfocused waves that rolled and undulated. Her arm encircled my waist, more to keep me upright than to aid my progress towards the vehicle. The wound, though not severe enough to limit the actual workings of my leg, had other implications of which my mind could not yet collate. The quiver in my soul told me that something was very wrong with me.
    “How far now?”
    “Are you gonna make it? It’s just there, right there, come on, just a little more. Stay with me. Keep talking,” she urged.
    “I’m cold, Barbie, freezing cold. I can’t focus, feels like I’ve been drugged somehow, and I’m floating. I feel agitated, angry at everything—even you, for some reason,” I babbled.
    “Really? What did I do?” She asked.
    “I don’t—I don’t know. Nothing I can recall right now.”
    We made it to the car, thankfully. She propped me up against the passenger door as she checked inside. Sure enough, the keys, with an impressive factory fob still attached, dangled from the ignition. Barbie opened the rear passenger side, and I flopped backwards across the seat. The urge to close my eyes was so strong and yet something I knew I had to fight for as long as I could. The engine turned over on the first attempt to start it, and the car purred as it settled.
    “Oh! I love the colour. It’s an automatic, soft hide seats too, and a mirror big enough for makeup. How do I make it go?” Barbie panicked.
    “Lever to ‘D,’ park brake off, just accelerator and brake, that’s all you need.” I replied, weakly. For the life of me, I couldn’t lift my head from the seat. It felt weighted, magnetised to the plush leather.
    “Thank God, I’ve got flat shoes on. I can’t drive in my heels for shit, automatic or not,” Barbie stated confidently.
    If I were able to, I’d have chuckled at that comment. We were soon moving tentatively through the car park. After several circuits, Barbie decided upon a shortcut up and over the verges to get to the road. It was a tough, bumpy ride away from the shopping mall, with repeated use of the public footpath as a thoroughfare. Aside from a close encounter with a limited waiting sign which clattered the driver’s wing mirror, we made it unscathed without further intervention from the poor, unfortunate souls already caught up in this nightmare. The motorway exit loomed just ahead.
    “Which way, Simon? Simon, are you still with me?” I heard her ask, as she peered through the rear-view to check.
    “Still here, but fading fast. We go south, down the A1. Pick up the M62 East for Hull. Make for the docks, we need to be—” I managed, before I blacked out mid-sentence.
    “Simon! Shit! Simon, talk to me! Great! That’s just great. Now he wants to take a nap. Okay, south, he said, then east. Come on, you can do this—it’s just a drive to the sea.”

7 – Decisions
     
    Queen Elizabeth Dock, Hull, 19 th March 2014, 1415 hours.
    Still a relatively short time after the initial outbreak at Salby, the main motorways remained passable. Barbie made good progress towards the port city of Hull, thirty miles east. Upon arrival to the Queen Elizabeth Dock, used primarily for freight sailings, Barbie parked the car out of sight and away from the main route