Clunk! Click! Every Trip.

Clunk Click! Every Trip

Christopher Nicholas sat bolt upright, the damp bed sheets clinging to
his skin, his scream ringing around the room. The shadows seemed to be
dancing in front of his eyes, in a menacing ballet. He squeezed his
eyes shut tight, and then opened them. Thankfully the ballet appeared
to have stopped, and the room was still. He wiped the sweat from his
eyes and swung his legs out of the bed. He sat there, still, replaying
in his minds eye the terror of his dream. It must have been a dream he
tried to reassure himself, yet somehow he was overcome by a powerful
feeling of deja vu. That he had somehow been in this place and in this
position before.

The dream reran itself in his head, the grinding of metal on metal,
the smell of melting rubber. He had a sensation of rolling over and
over. Flames, heat, pain. Tremendous. Brain numbing pain, and then
blackness.

He looked at the clock on the bedside table. Three thirty am. He lay
back on the bed, wondering if he might as well get ready and leave now.
At least he'd miss the traffic, and the sooner he left the sooner he'd
see his family. His wife of three and a half years and his
three-month-old son. Just over three months now he corrected himself.
In fact he must be nearing three and a half months old by now. He
missed them and he decided he should leave straight away. The sooner he
left the better. He'd get no more sleep tonight anyway.

He showered, dressed and re-packed his overnight bag as quickly as he
could and made his way downstairs to the hotel reception. He rang the
bell for attention and waited. Nobody came. He rang the bell again,
this time keeping it pressed slightly longer. The young woman who
appeared seemed very familiar to him although he was certain he had
never seen her before. She wasn't the girl who had checked him in the
day before.

"Good morning Mr Nicholas. Early start today isn't it?" she
enquired.

"Yes. The sooner I leave the sooner I'll get home" he replied a little
hastily. "I couldn't sleep anyway," he added gingerly.

"Not a problem with the room I hope".

"No. The room was fine. I've just had a little trouble sleeping
lately".

"Oooh. Bad dreams. In your dreams, Mr Nicholas, anything is possible,
and the ones which seem the most real, are the ones which scare you the
most". She looked directly into his eyes as she spoke and Christopher
suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable. It almost seemed as though she
were peering into the darkest recesses of his soul. Into the hidden
places within himself that even he didn't know existed.

"Excuse me for asking" he said almost apologetically "but have we met
before? It's just that you seem very familiar to me but I don't recall
ever seeing you before now".

"Perhaps in your dreams Mr Nicholas" she laughed. "Maybe that's why
you've had trouble sleeping". She laughed again and Christopher saw her
eyes for the briefest split second glow red-orange as though inside,
she were on fire, and he caught on his nose the faint whiff of
something very familiar but which he couldn't quite place.

"Maybe that's it," he agreed. "It's just that I could've sworn I'd
seen you before. Still, must've been mistaken. Sorry to trouble
you."

He took a pen from the counter and signed the bill, which came to ?110
for a one-night stay, all of which would be picked up by the company.
The girl took the bill, separated one half from the other and returned
the receipt.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality. If I'm ever in this area
again I'll be sure to stay here", he said genuinely.

"No. Thank you very much for your custom Mr Nicholas. I'm sure we'll
be seeing you again. Very soon." There was something menacing about the
way she spoke which Christopher found deeply unsettling. He picked up
his bag and made his way to the door. As he left the hotel he looked
back over his shoulder and the young receptionist was staring at him
almost as if she were looking through him. No, that wasn't quite right.
It was as if she were looking into him. There it was again, the
briefest flicker of fire-red in her eyes and then the same smell,
stronger this time. So familiar and yet he just couldn't place
it.

The young receptionists' demeanour changed as though she had just
remembered something. She raised her hand towards Christopher and said
with an almost knowing grin.

"Clunk click, Mr Nicholas. Every trip." Then she winked at him and
waved.

He waved goodbye then closed the door behind him and walked to his
car. It was dark and foggy, and the ground underfoot was covered in a
layer of frost. He threw his bag into the boot and got into the drivers
seat and started the engine, which came to life with an enthusiastic
roar. The windows were frosted over and he turned on the heaters to max
and flicked the switch to direct the airflow onto the windscreen. He
wound down his side windows and back up again to get rid of the excess
frost and to give himself a bit more visibility before pulling forward.
He drove along the hotel driveway and stopped at the junction with the
road. He peered through the frosted side windows but could see nothing
in either direction. He reached for his seatbelt, which he clunked
safely into position. Clunk, click, every trip. As he pulled forward
into the road the thought crossed his mind that he should've wound down
his windows and looked first, but it was too cold.

The lorry that came around the bend was being driven on dipped
headlights and the driver was tired. His reactions were slow, and he
hit Christopher side on at around sixty mph. The impact threw the lorry
driver, who hadn't worn his seatbelt, against the steering wheel, which
crushed his rib cage through his lungs and heart, killing him almost
instantly.

The drivers' side of Christopher's car was crushed around him,
trapping him in his seat. The window shattered showering him in broken
glass as the car rolled three times before settling on the road with
the driver's side down. The roof was crushed around him, again,
trapping him neatly into his seat. He lay on his side, struggling to
come to his senses. He couldn't move. He didn't think he was hurt, he
couldn't feel any pain, although he knew he was in shock and any pain
might not come until later. He looked around himself at the smashed
drivers' side door. The window was completely gone, but he realised he
was trapped when he put his hand down and touched the tarmac of the
road surface. The windscreen was smashed and almost completely white
with cracks. He might be able to push it out and drag himself
through.

He reached forward and pushed. The windscreen gave a little and
stopped. He pushed again. The windscreen gave a little more and
stopped. He pushed again and this time part of the windscreen gave way
and parted from the frame. He'd reached the limit of his reach and he
realised that if he were to push any further he would have to take off
his seatbelt. He fumbled for the catch. Couldn't find it. He felt the
panic begin to rise in his chest. He sat back in the seat and took
several deep breaths. In through his nose, and out through his mouth.
There was that smell again. What was that? Shit. Fire. The word
exploded in his brain with the force of a megaton bomb. Burnt matches.
The girl had smelled of sulphur and burnt matches, and now he was going
to burn to death, trapped in his car. He grabbed his seatbelt and
followed it to the clip. He depressed the release button and nothing
happened. He pressed again, and again, nothing happened. The seatbelt
was still fastened securely around his chest.

He could feel the heat now building through the car. The smell was
stronger. He could plainly smell burning rubber as the tyres began to
melt. He pulled at the seatbelt clip with all his strength knowing that
it wouldn't do any good whatsoever, and that he was going to die today.
It struck him as funny that safety equipment responsible for saving
thousands of lives, could be responsible for taking his. Clunk click,
every trip Mr Nicholas. He tried to move his legs and pain shot through
his body like a lightning bolt. Strangely, he felt fairly calm now that
he had accepted his fate; his only regret that he wouldn't see his
family just one more time.

Pain now, sharper from the flames. Heat building all around him. It
was becoming unbearable. His feet and legs exploded with searing pain
as his trousers caught fire. The seats around him went up in flames.
His scream drowned out by the noise of the petrol tank exploding.

Christopher Nicholas sat up in bed, bolt upright, the damp sheets
clinging to his sweat drenched body. He sat deathly still until his
scream had stopped ringing in his ears and when the room was overcome
with silence, he realised that he was in a hotel room. The alarm clock
read three thirty am. The shadows danced in front of his eyes, and he
felt strangely uneasy, as though he had been here before.

The End.

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