The Warning

Forgive this if it's a little rough around the edges, It all came out in one go.

The fresh snow underfoot makes custard powder squeaks as I tread my weary way home. The high factory walls, awash with the sodium arc glow of the street lights sparkle with the frost as if a child were making a Christmas card and has liberally glittered the whole scene. I'd been working 'till twelve at Benito's Italian restaurant, missed the last bus and yes we'd stayed behind for a couple of drinks after work and yes that probably made me slightly less steady on my feet than I would usually be. I slip of course. And not just a little slide and stumble, maybe one knee down and wet. Oh no. My feet fly out from under me, they shoot into the air as I scrape the fingers of my left hand down the wall seeking purchase, knowing it's going to hurt and all the while a little mantra at the back of my mind is going, 'ohshitohshitohshitohshitoshit.'

 My head hits the ground with a squeak and a thud and the night explodes into the brightest light, then to black and then just to pain. I lie there for a moment and assess where it hurts. I'm winded, I've torn a finger nail, my arse hurts and then there's my head. I try to turn it but it feels like my brain is swilling round in the back of my skull where it touches the floor. Thank god for the snow otherwise that would have been pavement my head hit....but then again I probably wouldn't have fallen in the first place....oh crap...time to try standing.

I lever myself up onto my elbows, get my feet back under me and slowly stand. Blackness blossoms and I lean on the wall heavily, eyes closed, until my head clears and the urge to vomit is gone. I open my eyes slowly and realise I must still be unconscious because extending away from where my head rests in foot tall green letters is my name. I push away and the visceral dizziness and nausea convince me that I'm still conscious. Gingerly stepping backwards I see that my name isn't all that's written here. Underneath is a number and the words 'call now'. I look around to see if I can spot whoever it is that's messing with me. Probably Dan from the restaurant, just his kind of thing, bloody chefs. I can't see anyone but that doesn't mean they're not watching, pissing themselves at the added bonus of me falling over. I'm not going to give them the satisfaction though. I photograph the evidence and head home.

Warm and out of my wet clothes I pour myself a large slug of Jack and sit at the kitchen table. I pull the phone from my pocket and inspect the photo. Time to find out whose brilliant idea this was. I dial the number. I can hear it dialling and then it takes what seems like an age to connect with endless clicks and strange buzzes. Finally it rings...and rings. Just when I’m about to give up, bored of the joke, it's answered. Two words are all the voice says. Almost intelligible. Through the static, a whisper speaks two words and then is cut off and my mind is sent reeling. The words are 'The bus'. But the voice. The voice is mine and I sound terrified.

I don't get a lot of sleep that night. How could it be my voice? Why just the two words. I'd tried calling again but just got dead air. I eventually slept just before dawn and had interesting dreams.

I wake the next day running late. Barely time to dress before running to catch my bus to work. I'm nearly convinced now in the harsh snow glare of day that the call last night had been a hoax. A clever impersonation or something and yet..... As I approach the bus stop a sense of wrongness comes over me. For some reason I don't join the queue as I usually would. I stay a meter or so back from the stop, leaning on a low garden wall. The usual suspects are there waiting for the twelve fifteen. The old dear on her way to the post office in town. A couple of kids listening to something tinny and repetitive on shared headphones. And then there's Jennifer. One day I'll get up the courage to ask her out. I'll probably have to get to know her real too. Jennifer's the name I've given her and in my mind she earns enough money that I won't have to keep working either. She manages to look gorgeous even bundled up against the cold with her red nose and long dark hair showing from beneath her woolly hat. She turns and catches me staring. My heart skips and a warm glow spreads over my face. And then she smiles. She smiles....at me. Of course it's then that the bus comes round the corner and things slow. I'm smile dazzled but can also see the driver's face. A grimace of not yet panic as he fights with the wheel to stop a skid and the despair as he realises it's too late. Jennifer sees something of this reflected in my face, the smile falls and she starts to turn but too slow, too too slowly. The old dear has seen but can't react quickly enough, the kids don't even look up. The bus, in a full slide now, hits Jennifer first, crushing her body back into the shelter. With the sound of shearing metal the shelter is torn loose, concertinaed around the other three. I'm frozen to my spot on the wall as the squealing mess of metal and plastic and hurtles past me barely a foot away. I see the terrified faces of the passengers framed in the widows like paintings. Some screaming, some eyes shut, others slack jawed, lost. As it passes me the bus hits the wall further down, the air shakes with the impact, the bus tilts and falls onto its side and continues on its way. Somewhere amongst the noise is something incongruous. A phone ringing. Even amongst all this something is telling me that the phone is important. And I realise. I wouldn't be here now if I hadn't warned myself last night, somehow I'd managed to find a way to save my own life. I had to answer and warn myself again. the sound's coming from my left. Somehow, there's a mobile on the wall next to me. With shock greased fingers i fumble it into my hand. I stumble down the road to look for survivors, see if I can help. My mind is whirling, full of images I don't want, hoping that there aren't more people hurt and now I'm wondering why I didn't tell myself enough to save the people at the bus stop, at least Jennifer. I will this time. I thumb the button and put the phone to my ear. 'The bus...' I say. And that's when the car hits me.