The windows are alright

Things go awry while a friend waits to pick another for a night ride

I spent four months in a hospital recovering from my head injury. My doctor advised me not to perform my current job as it stressed me a lot. With help from my colleagues, I applied for an Associate Professor’s post in Virginia where I had studied and with a bit of luck I got that job.

 

I was to leave for the US in four months and had nothing much to do but to prepare for the courses I had to teach at the University. I was awaiting my best friend Ram’s marriage at his hometown, and I wanted to go there a little early than the wedding date just to spend time better.

 

I discussed this with Sid, my other best friend and he said that he’d accompany me as he wouldn’t be able to visit on the wedding day. It was exciting to spend almost a week together because this gave us an opportunity to catch up on a long time and the last time as bachelors.

 

On Monday morning, Sid said that we had to postpone as he was busy with meetings the entire day and possibly till the next afternoon. After much deliberation, we agreed to start on Tuesday afternoon around four.

 

But then his flight got delayed and ended up landing at the airport at 23:30. Everybody was busy watching a thrilling India vs. Australia quarter-final match when I got a call from Sid that he just started from the airport. My parents strongly advised to stay the night and leave early in the morning. They were worried that I may not be able to drive in the dark properly for I was still recovering from my head injury. I was not at all in the mood to listen. I was elated to meet Sid and Ram after almost five years. Plus I was already delayed by a day. It was a six-hour journey on the road, and I was determined to make it by the next morning and still go for our hike as planned.

 

After 15 minutes of an emotional discussion, I finally decided to telephone Sid, only to convince my parents that I gave it a try. After a brief discussion, my argument ended with fake disappointment. I told my parents that I was leaving and, this time, they didn’t try much. Maybe they were tired of the argument, or maybe they understood my situation. I quickly finished a meagre dinner, and as I got up from the table, Sid called again saying that he was very close. I rushed out with my bag and dashed away in my car.

 

I arrived at the meeting point and telephoned him. He gave me a location which was at least 20 minutes from mine. My stomach grumbled-I was still hungry, and I cursed him for fooling me. He wanted me to step out of the house as soon as possible. A*****e.

 

And suddenly I realized that I forgot to take medications for the night. I checked my bag, and I forgot to pack them too. A part of me wanted to head back and take them, but then, the other part convinced me not to because if I go, there was every chance my parents would ask me not to go out again. I didn’t want that. I decided to buy them on my way.

 

I turned the radio on, pulled the handbrake, relaxed my legs, lowered the front windows for air, and leaned back in my seat listening to the captains speak about the match. Post-operation, I was able to focus on one thing at a time only, and now I had undivided attention towards the audio. It was like the entire world faded away and I could only hear both the captains speak. After some time, when the announcer declared that the talk had ended, I saw him.

 

That view jolted me upright, and I froze. This man was perhaps in his fifties. Grey hair overflowing and curling near his ears, wrinkled skin, ragged clothes and a strong alcoholic stench from him put me in a defensive posture. He had brownish yellow imperfect teeth, and he spoke with a slur. My hand immediately lowered to the power window switch and the first thing I wanted to do was to shut the window. Then again, I thought if it would be rude to shut the window on his face and decided against it. If it was rude, what if he attacked? He was inebriated already, and I didn’t want to take that risk. My hand stayed put at the window switch.

 

I glanced to the left and saw in the rear-view mirror an old Maruti 800 parked in a distance surrounded by perhaps seven people. The streetlights were sparse and the night seemed to go cold slowly in the dark. One person (could be in his thirties) was marching straight, the straight you try to maintain when you are drunk, towards my car. I took a quick look to the right and saw the latch secured. 

 

The old guy began waving his hand in my face, and I took some time drifting away from my thoughts back to him.

He rested his arms on the door panel and bent a little forward, belched and asked if there was a bus stop nearby. The stench from his breath seemed to fill my car, and it was uncomfortable. I quickly nodded a no and said I had no idea.

 

I peeked left and in the rear-view mirror, I saw the other guy quicken his steps towards me. Doors locked and secured, I reassured myself.

 

This old guy asked: “Is it near this way or that way?”

 

Then I felt if he was indeed needy of help. So I let go of that window switch and advised, “That way is nearer. But you might not get a bus at this time. Wait for an auto or call a cab.”

 

He nodded with a smile and then asked, “What is the score?”

 

I returned the smile and said, “We won.”

 

I was always the shy, xenophobic guy and then I could only smile for being over suspicious.

 

The other guy was nowhere to be seen in the rear-view now. I shuffled a little and saw him approach in the left side mirror. He was very close now. As my focus shifted, it happened.

 

I felt a jarring punch on my cheek bone, and when I turned surprised, he hit me on my nose. My arms involuntarily began to tend my nose, and I couldn’t open my eyes for a moment. By the time I did, the old guy had already unlocked the latch and was trying to pull the door open. I hit the lock back into position, pushed him away, and slammed it back in one quick movement. He tried to get to the latch, and I began closing the window. He still tried to hurt my face and then I heard from the other side.

 

The window on left side shattered as the young drunk hit it with his elbow. I was squirming in panic. My head began to pound, and eyes began to ache. There was no use operating that window now, and I knew it.

 

I turned the ignition with shaky hands while the old guy kept hitting the closed window and the younger one was trying to get inside. The engine roared alive. Hastily, I shifted the gear and stepped on the accelerator, but the car didn’t respond well. The handbrake was still live. The young guy was almost in up to his waist, and I was in touching distance of fingers. They were menacingly yelling and cursing me. Suddenly when I looked to the right while pushing the handbrake down, I saw the old guy take a stone and smash my window. The glass shattered and pieces of glass pierced close to my eye.  I released the brake quickly while the old man jumped onto the door.

 

I throttled with full force, shifted the car into the second gear and was already picking some speed. The old guy took hold of the steering and began to manoeuvre it towards his side almost dashing into the road divider. I repeatedly hit him with my elbow all the while looking at the younger one who would reach the seat in no time. I had no eyes on the road. I could hear the skidding of the tires and the thumping of my heart distinctly. I was losing confidence and was out of ideas. I couldn’t focus. Perhaps I wanted to cry out loud, but not a single sound came out. My mouth and throat went bone dry. I was inhaling short and quick breaths; my face contorted weirdly, and I was sweating profusely on the inside of my shirt. It was millimetres before I crashed into the divider.

 

Finally, with one sharp strike on his nose, the old guy gave up and tumbled away from my car onto the divider, and when he released the steering suddenly, the car swirled in the other direction avoiding the crash by a fraction of seconds. I couldn’t control it immediately, and the car swayed across the road. The younger one hit the door because of this movement and intensified his cursing. His voice was terrifying. There was so much tension that I felt I would blank in a couple of moments. I felt serious pain near my ear where the doctors stitched my head. I was shaking with fear and couldn’t handle it any longer.

 

I mustered all my strength, punched him, opened the door quickly, and pushed it open. I had picked some speed by then, and the younger one shook away. He was relentlessly trying to get in all the while threatening to kill me if I didn’t stop. I swirled the car zigzag hoping he would loosen his grip. He swayed vigorously while holding onto the door.

 

I accelerated as much as I could. I forgot to change the gear, and the car wheezed. Suddenly it struck me. I pulled the handbrake up while hitting the leg brakes sharply. The car screeched to a stop, and I expected he would let go. He didn’t.

 

He screamed at me and started to inch closer holding the door. I changed gears, hit the accelerator again, released the brake and the car skidded to a start. He just wouldn’t let it go. His bloodshot eyes were like a nightmare. His voice was horrifying. His screams and curses were reverberating in my ear.  The steering started to slip as I released one hand to change gears. My heart was thumping audibly, and it began to go blank. For a moment, everything faded away.

 

I slapped back to awareness and saw a street light to the left of the road. I headed towards it aiming my left door. Inches away, he gave a loud cry and let it go. The moment I saw it I started laughing and shouting hysterically. I turned the steering and felt a thump and a crack beneath my car. Surely I had run over him. I saw him in the rear-view mirror writhing in pain but had no intention to look back again. I never thought of closing the door and raced away a couple of kilometres and suddenly felt the urge to take my medicine.

 

I stopped the car, ran out of it,  took heavy breaths and started to jump to relax. My forehead was stinging with pain, my face flushed, stitched area near my ears was burning hot, I could hear my heart thump inside, and every muscle was trembling because of the adrenaline rush.

 

I heard my phone ring. It was Sid.

 

“You son-of-a-b***h, where the f**k are you. I am at the meeting point since forever.” There were 11 missed calls.

 

I was relieved to hear him, but couldn’t speak. It took some time before I composed myself and told him in a stammering tone to rush to where I was. Frankly, I had no memory of a turn taken anywhere during this turmoil. I just hoped that he would find me on the road.

 

As I cut the call, I saw dim lights in the distance approaching me. That Maruti 800? I ran into the car, whirred the engine into motion, and started moving slowly. As the lights approached and departed, I did not move an inch. I prayed for safety, and as it raced past me, I let out a deep sigh still trembling.

 

I telephoned Sid and said that I would be moving slowly on the highway with my parking lights on. He was rushing towards me already.

 

In the next ten minutes, I could hear a car honk and approach me in the distance. The headlights were flickering, and each flicker of the light sent shivers down my spine. As the car inched closer and slowed down, my heart sank and my face froze cold. I was just about to throttle up when I heard Sid yell at me to pull over.

 

I couldn’t control my emotion but tried to maintain composure as I halted on the curbside. He came running out of the car. “You OK?”

 

I couldn’t speak coherently and settled with a yes nod, wiping the blood, oozing out of my nostril, probably due to the punch on my nose.

 

After I had narrated the horrific event, he was stunned. He looked at me, then to the car and kept exchanging glances for another couple of seconds before walking towards the steering. He turned the key and went for the window switch. Gently pressing it up, he said in a slow, soft, worried voice, “Amit, the windows are alright.”

 

As the windows came up unscathed, I just couldn’t believe what was happening. My chest seemed to go cold. “But it happened, and see, I’m bleeding,” I tried to make sense. My nose was dry.

 

But my palms were still sweating, head thumping, heart racing and my shirt was wet with perspiration. The feeling was so genuine that I couldn’t believe it didn’t happen.

 

Walking towards me with a reassuring smile he asked, “Have you taken your meds? This could be a hallucination.”

 

I couldn’t believe that. Such sudden turn of events left me completely disoriented, and I found it difficult to breathe again. I sat beside the driver seat when he said, “We can rest until tomorrow morning. Let’s head back home.”

 

I had no intention to go back after all this. My parents would be worried as hell when they see me like this and I did not want to allow myself the disgrace of accepting this s**t. I firmly refused it and said that I would buy my meds on the way. He offered to drive, and I was more than willing. He felt the sweat on the steering and gave me a disgusted look when I said, “But it happened,” in a weak voice.

 

He knew me well enough to let it go. He knew me well enough not to make me talk about it again. And he knew me well enough not to mention the sight of the injured old drunk person near the divider and an unconscious guy on the road while he was hurrying towards me.

 

Reviews

[D. T. Hannah]

An interesting and thrilling story with some good action. I like the ambiguous ending (at least I think it's supposed to be ambiguous).

One thing I'm not sure about: Is there any reason given for the attack? I guessed it might be to do with ethnicity? But neither the attackers, nor the protagonist's race were ever given, or even noted as different. This might have explained to me why the protagonist was nervous around the strangers and why he mentions he is a xenophobic guy.

Apart from that, it's a well written and scary account. The violence felt real and was well paced. Good story.

[Pranav Sampara]

Thank you so much for the review and encouragement. And yes, I intended the ambiguous ending. The character is, in general, afraid of strangers and the attack is not related to ethnicity nor is personal. I intended to write about an assaut and robbery on a highway.
Thank you for the question. Now I understood more about character development.