Band Cramp

That Sunday morning was full of a buzz of groans, some even of cheers, as Gareth entered the rehearsal field. Mandy gave a small whoop, evidently having missed Gareth more than her co-leader. Gareth, dressed in his usual cyan zipped hoodie and Stefan's band cap, strode down the centre of the marked field with a large grin on his face. Adonis were readying themselves for warm ups in a large, drunken circle, whilst Chase stood at the front with his arms crossed.

'Everyone, welcome back Mr. Firkins,' Chase called out, unenthusiastically. There were several tired "yays" at this.

'Lofty, you've been replaced,' Elisa gave a relieved sigh.

'You wot?' Lofty gawked. 'You've got it wrong, mate, I'm much bet-'

'Don't lip it - lap it!' Chase interrupted, clearly frustrated from Lofty's tone over the past few weeks.

Lofty muttered something under his breath and went to lap the enormous playing field, Chase's lips curling into a satisfied smile. Gareth wondered if Lofty's legs would be ripped by the end of the year.

'All right, all right, finals in September! Let's kill some people with some horrors!' Dave commanded.

It was like Gareth had never been away. After a bout of dizzying breaths and eccentric warm ups, Gareth was soon running around the roaring hot field, remembering the majority of his old dots and music with just a few minor fluffs. It didn't matter that the sun thundered down like a waterfall of fire, nor that Gareth remained in a deep sweat even after removing his hoodie - it was good to be back.

The day had flown by. It was relieving to be back, and to have his trumpet from Lofty, even if the mouth piece smelt like wet ash. He'd have to give it a deep clean, once he reached home.

'So,' Gareth piped up at the end of rehearsal, 'why was I punished and Old Man Sam not?'

It was a question which Gareth thought fair and needed to be answered. After all, he didn't think it was quite fair that the elderly man wasn't punished in the same way he was, especially as Old Man Sam pushed Gareth with the pepper spray incident.

'He was punished accordingly,' Chase replied after a considerate pause.

'Waste of a space son, takin' away me day juice!' gruffly shouted Old Man Sam.

Gareth slowly nodded, his eyes darting to any potential hip flask on the gentleman, but finding none.

'Finals are three weekends away. Next weekend is our summer band camp, at Ely. As with today, lunch will be provided. The weekend after is the Sandy town carnival, which deciphers into "we'll be leading the parade". The weekend after is our finals show. We have to break through the preliminary show to reach the final show on that same day. We have to. It is because of this that I'll be working you hard at next weekend's camp. See you there, Friday, 6.00pm' Chase announced.

Well, it looked like Gareth was due another band camp.

********************

Warren dropped Gareth out of smart car, which had been lovingly polished and washed in the summer months. Gareth edged away from it, recoiling from its tasteless design.

'Remember, you're Gareth, not Darren,' Warren reminded, prodding Gareth's forehead.

'Gotcha,' Gareth replied, taking out his packed holdall and trumpet case.

Gareth dropped off his tid bits in the school gym, before heading back outside to join those who had already arrived.

Cindy Lars was standing there with her son, in the courtyard outside the main double doors for the school. She appeared to be marching on the spot, her chocolate skin perspiring onto her mellow yellow t-shirt and forest green cargo trousers. Her eyes were closed, thinking the show over in her head, ensuring all the right movements and drum patterns. Her son, Bruno, was looking over a sheet of music to check he also remembered it all. Gareth decided to watch Cindy by leaning against the bike rail, next to Bruno.

When Cindy finally halted, she opened her eyes to find Gareth grinning back at her. She smiled with embarrassment.

'Well hello, handsome,' Cindy greeted.

'I'm, uh, not handsome,' Gareth replied.

'It's how mum greets everyone. She doesn't have a crush on you or nothing,' Bruno responded, his voice not yet broken.

'Anyone younger than me is handsome, and anyone older is to be respected,' Cindy chuckled, saluting to somewhere behind Gareth.

Tina Gomez, instructor and head of the colourguard, walked up to them in an airy, duck-egg-coloured dress. Her hair was its usual wavy consistency, dark and long, tucked behind her ears. In her grasp was a wooden rifle wrapped in white tape, which Gareth had seen the colourguard practise with when they didn't have their flags to hand.

'Don't salute, don't salute, people will stop believing I'm younger than you, Cindy,' hushed her faint, Italian accent.

From what Gareth had been told by Stefan, Tina had moved to England when she married her British husband, but often returns to the mountains of Italy to visit her family. She looked particularly tanned and it was evident that she'd recently returned from an Italian visit. She looked energised and ready to shout at the colourguard, her accent becoming thicker every time she did so.

'You only look younger because you haven't had the stress of a kid,' Cindy continued, laughing it off.

'Buzz, buzz, not my fault I can't have a "screaming bundles of joy", I think you once called them?'

'I'm not that bad,' frowned Bruno.

'Mum once called me a waste of space,' Gareth mused, 'but everyone's entitled to their opinion, right?'

There was a murmur of agreement.

'And I think we can all agree that vinaigrette sucks,' Cindy chirped, as if she had something planned.

Just then, the band truck arrived, along with Madeline Purcell and her husband, Jerome. They hopped out of the cab.

'This is all who's here,' Gareth announced, before Madeline could suggest they unload that blasted truck on their own.

Jerome Purcell immediately jogged to Cindy and began wiggling his hands in an erratic manner. Gareth looked around, confused.

'Sign language. Ain't you ever seen it?' Madeline croaked.

Gareth shook his head and wondered at the shapes of Jerome's hands. Cindy signed back, her eyes wide. The whole scenario made Gareth laugh, which was only greeted with a tut from Madeline.

'Probably about food. Mum loves talking about food,' Bruno contemplated, just as lost as Gareth was.

'Both are chefs,' Madeline agreed, 'but I'm the best!'

Gareth turned away to avoid showing his disbelief. Vinaigrette and cold pasta the best? Yeah, right!

At last, the Diggby family Mercedes Benz rolled up. Several other cars followed.

'Music. Tonight, we'll feast on music!' Boomed Chase, as if opening an opera, 'Tame the beast of a truck and steal its treasure, then scurry to the hall of reckoning.'

'So, unload the truck of instruments and meet in the hall?' Stefan asked.

'Precisely!'

Tracey's gurning face was alleviated of confusion, as were several others.

After a particularly gruelling session of truck unloading, the next few hours passed, rapidly. Noise enveloped the hall - the percussion pulsing around wails of brass instruments and chimes of glockenspiels. The musical focus was clearly on their fourth and final piece of music, titled Metal Gear Solid. This piece was fast and furious, and Gareth had a lot to learn from the many changes made from the previous show. Ultimately, the music was a lot tighter and the flaws were ironed out as best as possible. Soon, the wail turned to singing and the night was over, a song in everyone's hearts.

Bob patted Gareth on the back as he walked out of the hall doors. Nathan gave Gareth a thumbs up.

'Welcome back, mate,' he smiled, and the rest of the evening passed in a flash.

********************

'Gerrup, yer sorry lot, gerrup! It's a dry, dry Saturday, and yer all ter blame!' Old Man Sam grumpily announced, slamming two pans together.

Gareth jolted up from the sudden noise, only to relax a bit when he realised what was going on.

'Cereal. I want cereal,' Melanie moaned from somewhere across the gym.

'I'll get the milk,' responded Big Gay Brett.

Taking care to put on swimming shorts, having remembered what the first camp was like, Gareth sidled into the showers and quickly washed for the day ahead. Wet and wild, he dressed himself and headed for a dreadful vinaigrette breakfast, before confronted with a challenging warm-up session. Eventually, he found himself on the field, waiting to run the show again and again to clean up any faults. Armed with a baggy ashen t-shirt and dark blue tracksuit bottoms, his now usual cap in tow, Gareth was ready.

'Sun tan lotion is imperative. The Sun will burn your hides if you aren't intelligent enough... scrap that, you're all going to endure severe pain, so put on your lotion, now,' Chase commanded at the front of the field.

Everyone jogged to the field's front, where their bag of bottled water and lotions all were. Gareth meandered to the front, unsure what to do - he hadn't packed any lotion and just had a lot of water. Can I just drench himself and hope it'll last? No, that's a silly idea, Gareth thought, quickly interrupted by someone round and smiling.

'Lemme lube you up,' Big Gay Brett grinned, cream in one hand and a bottle of sun tan in the other.

'I hope that cream's from the bottle,' Gareth grimaced.

'Sure it is,' Big Gay Brett replied in a not-so-convincing tone.

Regardless, Gareth soon found himself smothered by Big Gay Brett's special lotion. At least his neck wouldn't burn, now.

'Look, is there any chance I'll march this season, at all?' Elisa spouted in this short intermission. Chase crossly shook his head. 'Then why promise me I'd be able to march for finals?'

'Look, my chumly, don't take this the wrong way-' Mandy started, but Elisa grew impatient, as usual.

'No, I was promised I could march later in the year. It's later in the year, so when can I march? Now's best, right? We're at camp, before final. Let me march, already!'

Mandy gave a deep sigh and knew she couldn't win in the face of disgruntlement. Gareth eyed the incident with a frown. It didn't seem particularly fair that Elisa wasn't allowed to march, but he understood getting a wheelchair-bound member onto the field at this late stage in the year was dangerous. There was a lot to learn and the show was fast at parts. Gareth wasn't sure Elisa's chair could keep up.

'Maybe next time,' Mandy shrugged.

'Maybe next time?' Elisa choked. 'What a load of ol' rot. Don't mind me, I'll just continue banging away my glock, don't mind me,' she sarcastically continued, rolling back to her position in the pit.

Gareth felt even more sorry for her, now.

'Right, everyone locate to the field. Part Four. Prepare yourselves,' Chase called, climbing onto his small, black box.

And away they went, Gareth fighting for his life as his lungs collapsed and re-inflated from the sheer work he was enduring. The piece started slow, but revved into gear very quickly. It was also very heavy on extraneous movement, Gareth noticed. Eventually, Chase cut them off, an idea in mind.

'Right, I deign for you all to duck. Everyone, who stands in vertical lines from my right, you are all to duck on count one of this set. The next vertical line ducks on count two. The next line on the consecutive number and so on. You are then to re-grow slowly over four transmogrifying counts, together,' Chase suggested.

'What's this, boss?' Dave called out.

'A new visual, Mr. Pritchard. My cognitive processors have now transmitted this to yourselves, so kindly do as I instruct. One, two, one, two, three, four and-' They all did so, to a great big mess. 'Try again. This time, I want the colourguard on the far right of me to grab those green drapes and run horizontally with them in the air.'

They complied, Gareth finding himself on count three of the ducking parade. Unfortunately, he found himself oggling at the colourguard running towards him, pulling a large, flowing green curtain against the wind, and didn't pay attention to the count he should duck on. As such, Gareth found himself walloped by Kelsey's fist, by mistake.

Gareth loudly cursed as he keeled over to shield his nose from any further pain.

'I'm sorry! Oh my... I'm sorry!' Kelsey wailed, deeply worried.

'God, Kelsey, I know he's done some things, but no need to punch him,' teased Tracey.

'I didn't mean it!'

'Kelsey, Kelsey, Kelsey, if you'd been paying more attention, then this accident wouldn't have happened,' Tina replied, rather tersely.

'Leave him be. He deserved it, anyway,' Chase called out. 'Let's move on.'

Kelsey, however, wasn't ready to "move on" and found herself welling up with tears. She went to her starting position, to repeat the ducking "visual", but then found herself running off of the field, tearful.

'Oh for Christ's sake!' Chase boomed. 'Someone lead her back here. I'm ready to explode from how full I am of your blathering delays. Listen to me, obey, and the day will travel smoother.'

'Let some steam out, Mr. Kettle, ehehe,' laughed Lofty like an exhaling tyre.

Chase turned to Lofty, a visible vein throbbing on his forehead.

'You'd better start running, Lofty!' Chase bellowed, scaring Lofty into a fierce sprint around the field.

'I'll fetch her,' Gareth piped up, genuinely concerned for the teenager.

Chase motioned him to get going, before he turned his attention back to the corps. Gareth jogged to the front of the field and plopped his trumpet on the grass, out of the way, before hunting the school grounds for Kelsey.

The gym was empty, as was the food tech area. Gareth bounded up the stairs of the main building and peered into the over 18's room, which he noticed not all over 18's slept in. It was a mess of air beds and empty cans of lager. No Kelsey, however. Gareth slumped away, almost giving up, until he remembered the wooden building next to the astro-turf tennis courts.

Water reflected off of the ceiling like a sky of electric eels. The smell of chlorine sprayed the air and Gareth realised this wooden building led to the swimming pool. There, quietly sobbing at the pool's edge, was Kelsey.

Kelsey lifted her head slightly as Gareth closed the door behind him. She then gazed back down at the pool, wiping her tears away.

Calmly, Gareth walked to the crying teenager and gently sat down next to her, cross-legged. There was an awkward pause before anyone said anything, the sound of Kelsey's feet swirling in the pool water.

'You've got to take their shouting and think "I'll do better next time." We're all trying our best, so there must be sommink on your mind that's keeping you from your normal flag waving skills. I've seen you. You're the best of the lot of them. But today you weren't. What's up?' Gareth softly asked.

Kelsey sniffed and looked up at Gareth, her eyes drowning with water. It was then that Gareth noticed, for the first time, that she had a slight bruise around her left eye.

'Everyone's bullying me...' her voice wavered.

A grim expression crept on Gareth's face. He'd often bullied other kids when he was in school, before deciding school wasn't for him. It was only in his last year that he'd decided it was better to pick on the kids who picked on others, instead, feeling sorry for the way Nathan was treated between classes. He had become a protector of Nathan in the places where Bob couldn't, which carried on until Nathan learnt to defend for himself, somewhat.

Kelsey looked like the kind of girl Gareth would have picked on, himself, for her smaller stature and quieter demeanour. Those kids typically meant they wouldn't tell anyone about the way they were treated, and would do anything to please the bully to stop any further harm. Gareth felt terrible as he looked at the slight bruise around Kelsey's eye, and felt an inner anger grow at how he used to behave.

'I'll protect you,' Gareth simply responded, his hatred at himself swelling.

'The girls talk about me behind my back... they hit me at school where no one can help...' Kelsey started to sob, once more.

'Fine, then I'll stand at the school gates, after school, and make sure they can't get to you,' Gareth sighed. 'Look, I can't be there to help all the time. Like it or not, violence... it just isn't always the answer. Teachers aren't, either. They say "Bullying won't be tolerated" but that's a fat faced lie. Truth is, there ain't no easy answer to stopping bullying. Bullies... they target others who are different to them, and find them a joke. I don't mean stop being yourself or nothing, since I think you're lying to yourself if you do that, but act carefully around bullies. If they see you do something they don't like, they'll start to pick on you.'

It was a mess of a speech, but Gareth tried his best to help Kelsey in those times when he couldn't be there.

'I think I understand. I'm so pathetic, I'm sorry! Me, crying in a swimming pool, running away from the field... ha...' Kelsey chuckled, water still running down her cheeks, carrying her confidence with them.

'You ain't pathetic. Them school kids made you think that with their name calling and insults. It's gonna be hard to ignore them, but know that I think you're good and try hard at what you do. If them kids don't believe in ya, others will, so don't take it personally. So what if you made a mistake on the field, today? I don't care. You made one mistake compared to a whole day of doing things right, at the best of your ability. That's a good percentage, if you ask me,' Gareth smiled.

Kelsey smiled back, rubbing away the tears with her arm.

'Thanks Gareth, it means a lot to me,' Kelsey sniffed, before standing back up.

'Come on, let's head to back to the field. We've got to show those guys that we're not holding them back, they're holding us back!'

Sunlight poured into the entrance of the indoor pool. They both looked up to find Tracey peering in.

'Finally found you,' she sighed. 'Come on, teary chops, everyone wants you back on the field,' Tracey commented, waltzing up to pull Kelsey back up.

'Be a little sensitive,' Gareth scowled, standing up to match Kelsey.

Tracey huffed and watched as the other two walked back to the doors, Kelsey in front and Gareth behind. Kelsey then stopped at the doors and turned around.

'Thanks for believing in me.'

'Anytime,' Gareth smiled.

Kelsey left for the field, only for Gareth to feel Tracey's arm wrap around his chest, from behind.

'Hey, handsome,' she whispered in a sultry tone.

Gareth didn't throw her off, thinking her warm touch pleasant, but he was very much aware that Tracey was the corps director's daughter. Besides, they were all waiting for him to return to the field.

'Wot?' Gareth simply spluttered.

'Me, you... and the pool,' Tracey laughed, pulling Gareth back with a sudden force.

Gareth gasped as he felt his body topple backwards, pulled down by Tracey. With a violent crash of colour, a cold liquid enveloped Gareth from behind before his senses were numbed by the watery world. It was as clear as the shining sun outside, Gareth was now in the swimming pool.

'Oh Gazza, you're making me so... wet,' Tracey cooed.

'Shut up! I-I can't swim!' Gareth spluttered, desperately trying to reach the edge of the pool.

At long last, Gareth grabbed onto the metal ladder, relishing its cool frame for support. Tracey laughed the entire time. As he clambered out of the pool, feeling the weight of the water pull him back down with every step, Gareth felt a deep concern over how the others would see him now. They'd surely think he'd been messing around in the pool. Great.

Tracey swam to the edge and beckoned for Gareth to come back in, with her finger.

'No. Seriously, just no,' Gareth spat, just in time for Chase to bound through the doors.

He looked at Gareth, then to Tracey, then back at Gareth. A frown formed on his face.

'It appears you've dragged my daughter down to your level, Mr. Firkins. Graciously grovel to the field before I throttle your throat,' Chase rolled his eyes.

'Seriously, she pulled me into the p-'

'Lip it, Mr. Firkins, and you will be re-acquainted with the perimeter of the field,' Chase warned. 'You're pathetic.'

'I'm all washed up, would you say?' Gareth responded, cheekily.

'More like wet and soppy. The sun will dry your demeanour. Leave, or lap it,' Chase commanded.

Gareth skulked off, thinking he at least got off, lightly. It would be nice, however, if Chase recognised his daughter wasn't the little angel he thought her to be. She felt like the opposite, in fact.

'Thanks for helping, Gazza,' Tracey sniggered from inside the pool.

********************

Lunch time. The ripe and repugnant smell of vinegar greeted Gareth as he strode through the food tech doors. The sun may have dried him off and he may have been in relatively high spirits, but the familiar stench of vinegar put him in a sour state. This, of course, could only mean that vinaigrette was for lunch.

There was a sombre queue for the vinegar pasta. Gareth grimaced at the thought of chewing those horrid bits of cucumber soaked in acidic bile. All he could do was move closer, wishing to defy his fate, but not wishing to go hungry.

'Right,' hollered Cindy, bursting through the food tech door, 'who wants pizza?'

There was a bewildered cheer as Cindy produced a tray of large, scruffy pizza slices. Gareth gazed upon the smoking slices of mozzarella and tomato puree joy, feeling his stomach gurgle with desire. Their aroma attacked the air of salty vinegar, pulling the band members towards the tray in tantalisation. And then the munching commenced.

Madeline Purcell looked peeved beyond words. Her mouth was agape and her hands were on her hips. Chase opened his mouth to chastise the corps, but then thought better of it once the pizza's alluring aroma stroked his nostrils. Jerome, her husband, instead patted her on the back and took a spoonful of the vinegar monstrosity, although Gareth could see Jerome's nose wrinkle at his noble sacrifice.

'Figured it was high time we made a stand. No more vinaigrette! Please. I'm a chef, myself,' Cindy stated, proudly.

'Be glad tha' Jerome can't hear, 'cause he'd 'ave yer fer tha'!' Madeline scowled, although it was as clear that Madeline had prepared the pasta, not her husband.

Luckily, Madeline's mood didn't last and she was soon having a ball with the rest of the pizza eating members, being entertained by Jerome dancing avidly on the spot. It was incredible. Gareth had never seen anyone move with such intensity and elegance, beguiling him immensely that a deaf person could move so well to a beat.

'Jerome's always said he could feel the beat through his body and soul,' Cindy laughed, clapping in time as Jerome broke out some moves to Bob's drum solo.

Gareth was enjoying himself, immensely, taking some more pizza and laughing all the while with everyone else.

Suffice to say, the rest of the afternoon whizzed by and Gareth felt their show had improved immensely. Everyone was in good spirits. It was great to be back and absolutely nothing could go wrong, now.

'Time to crack open the beer, I reckon' Yammers burped, as the sky transformed into a beautiful peacock blue, their day's rehearsal over.

'It's a dry camp, you ol' coot,' Melanie nudged Yammers.

'No it ain't, it's a dry camp only if I say it's a dry camp,' Yammers retorted, a glare in his eye indicating that he needed this release.

Yammers Junior shook his head with a sad smile as they all walked back from the field, to the courtyard.

'Where's the nearest off-license?' Bob continued, clearly wanting in on the action.

Nathan gasped, but he knew this was a losing battle even if he interjected right now, and Gareth sensed this.

'The nearest offy is a couple of miles down the road. Someone needs to drive,' Ealga confirmed, sounding disheartened.

'Pft, no one got time for that,' Siobhan rolled her eyes.

There was a brief bout of silence before Kara continued the conversation.

'Bob, if you drive to the nearest offy, can you pick us up some booze?' Kara suggested, loudly.

'I may look old for my age, but I don't look at least 25' Bob simply responded.

'All right, all right, I'll come with, just as long as you drive us there,' Kara hastily replied, hushing her voice as to not alert Chase or Mandy of their plan.

Gareth peered into the distance of the field, where Chase and Mandy strolled slowly towards them, in deep discussion about something related to their show. Gareth didn't particularly wish to do anything against the rules. He'd been condemned for that, enough. As a result, he felt nervous about this whole escapade.

'Don't wanna be a kill joy or nothing, but can't we just make do for tonight?' Gareth piped up.

He was meant from some unimpressed faces of the over 18s crowd, around him.

'No,' Yammers affirmed, 'and to make up for it, make yourself useful and go with the beer brigade. They'll need some carrying arms.'

'I ain't doing nothing,' Gareth frowned, feeling all the more nervous.

'Which means you're doing sommink!' Yammers laughed. 'That sommink is carrying beer. On your way, before the boss fights out.'

Gareth sulked, until Nathan assured him that he'd go with them and they'd have a fun car journey out of it. Feeling a little cheerier, and with the thought that at least it wasn't his idea, Gareth warmed to the idea of the car journey. Sure, Kara would be there, but Kara was crazy enough to join in with their antics, anyway.

Hopping into Bob's Mazda 2, Gareth plopped himself in the back, behind the driving seat, whilst Kara found herself next to Gareth. Nathan called shotgun in the driver's main passenger seat. Bob, of course, sat in the driving seat.

And then they were off, speeding down the curved roads to the nearest off-license.

'Best watch out for deer. There's deer signs all over these country roads,' Nathan muttered.

'Stop worrying,' Bob snapped.

'Remember, Bob, you're in a safe place,' Nathan said, calmly.

'Put on some music, Bob, anything to keep Nath silent!' Kara wailed.

Bob complied, finding himself irritated at Nathan trying to make sure he didn't burst in anger, randomly. Except, Gareth didn't quite warm to the musical response of Mamma Mia.

Gareth felt like vomiting, but Kara pleaded to leave it on. Of all the music, Gareth simply wasn't expecting Abba. What the heck was Bob on?

'Mamma Mia, here I go again, Lofty, how can I resist ya,' Kara sang.

Despite the horrendous song choice, at least to Gareth, the rest of the car couldn't help but find this hilarious. Replacing words with Lofty made the song a lot more enjoyable and, soon, they were all singing along.

'Loft, I've been broken hearted,' Gareth sang.

'Beige since the day we parted,' Kara continued.

'Why, why, did we ever let you play? Mamma Mia, now I really say, my, my, subs would never let you pay,' Nathan chirped up.

'This is the gayest thing we've ever done,' Bob replied in the interim of the song.

'I've been angry and sad by the things that you do,' Nathan sang, continuing the song.

'What are trying to say?' Bob angrily responded, suddenly turning around.

'Watch out!' Nathan bellowed as a deer leapt out into the road, ahead of them.

Gareth couldn't help but close his eyes as his heart leapt faster than the deer had done. The music was silenced from Gareth's drowning thoughts, panic swelling within him. There was a screech as Bob slammed on the brakes. A rupturing smash echoed around them. Suddenly, they were in the air, gravity failing them; spinning, tumbling, nauseating. Kara's yell of surprise slowed to a petrified scream. Gareth's thoughts turned to when he and Nathan played on the field where Adonis now rehearsed, before Darren interrupted their lives and put them on a new path. They were simpler times, the summer sun warming their spirits and boundless energy. How disheartening it was to suddenly be lurched, sideways, to a bleaker world of collapsing metal and shredding glass.

The car skidded on its side, violent sparks shredding the atmosphere. An ear-splitting screech pierced their ears. With a sickening thud and an explosion of steam, Gareth felt the world slow to a stop. They'd finally halted.

Opening his eyes from the unusual silence, Gareth's heart pounded with fear. He peered to his left. Kara nursed a bleeding nose, her facing having jammed into the back of Nathan's seat. Gareth slowly turned his head to his right, wincing from the sever whiplash that had struck his neck. It then became apparent that they were upside-down, held in place by their seat-belts. A shrubbery, of sorts, attacked him through the car window. They had evidently landed in some field.

Mamma Mia warbled through the static stereo, before cutting out completely. Thank goodness for small mercies. Thank goodness for large ones, too - Gareth was alive.

He breathed heavily, his head throbbing and water welling in his eyes. He was alive! That tickle at the back of his throat causing him to cough, that pulsing pain in his head, that warm blood trickling down his hand...

Blood. Gareth looked at his hand, to find his palm cut, just enough, for him to bleed. His eyes darted to the broken window to his right, putting the two together with the shrubbery.

'Nath' he croaked. 'Nath!'

A groan answered him from the front passenger seat.

'No beer, then?' Kara moaned, un-strapping her seat beat and crashing to the car ceiling.

Gareth followed, banging his already aching head as he crumpled in a heap.

'He can paraddidle, but he can't drive a car, eh, Bob?' Nathan chuckled, trying to alleviate the tense atmosphere.

Silence.

'Bob?' Gareth repeated, the concern growing in his voice.

Nothing.

'Bob?!' Nathan panicked, turning his upside-down head to the driving seat.

Gareth hurried to between the front two seats, scuffling on his knees, before immediately wishing he hadn't.

Bob's face was crushed against the wheel of the car, blood gushing down onto the ceiling. His right arm sprawled awkwardly across the dashboard, resembling a mangled matchstick. His legs dangled in the air. Bob was clearly dead.

Kara started to shriek, hysterical and not knowing what to do, whilst Nathan began to uncontrollably sob. Gareth felt a deep sense of concern for Nathan, as well as a deep pain over the loss of Bob, even if Bob didn't treat him that fairly until the very end... but even that was perhaps Darren's influence.

'I'm sorry, Nath, I'm truly sorry,' Gareth croaked.

Nathan didn't hear him, however, as he howled with tears through the rest of the night.