After the protests and heavy-handed response last week, it looked like things have calmed down here in Kazakhstan (certainly in Nur-sultan, which anyway escaped the brunt of the violence).
I admit to having my doubts about the official explanation, but it looks like the real story was much worse than even I could have imagined. It turns out Kazakhstan was under attack by…
Jazz Musicians from Kyrgyzstan! 😮
Luckily the danger has been averted, so you can relax for this week’s piece of flash fiction, which is also about a man on a mission.
Enjoy!
The snow hid the curve of the road until it was too late. The ambulance Brent was driving ploughed through the guardrail and into a deep drift.
“Shit!” Brent was uninjured, and the ambulance didn’t seem badly damaged, just stuck. When he tried to reverse, his wheels span without purchase. And he had a heart in the back of the ambulance, with a patient waiting for it.
It wasn’t easy to get out of the vehicle; it was pointed away from the road and down into the neighbouring field at a thirty-degree angle. When he pushed the car door, the snow pushed back. It was up to the handle already, up to Brent’s waist, when he finally made his way into it. He climbed back to the road, hoping to spot a car that might tow him out, but there was no sign of any traffic.
He’d been travelling too fast, he knew that, but the heart transplant was urgent. If he’d taken the motorway, there’d be cars about, but that was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. He’d gambled on the empty back roads, and it had been paying off until he crashed. Had he fallen asleep at the wheel, one of those micro-sleeps? With the missing second income since Janine got sick, he was working every available shift. Driving was more stressful, too, in this kind of weather. And it wasn’t like people were lining up to become heart donors. Still, it’d be worth it once he’d finished the run and could enjoy Christmas with Janine.
From the empty road, he could see the snow-covered roofs of the Daniel’s farm a few hundred metres to the west. That, at least, was great news. He was only a half hour’s walk away from home. The only problem was that he didn’t think he could lug the donor’s body all that way to where Janine was waiting for it. Could he walk home to borrow Janine’s car? Maybe. If nothing else went wrong.
Behind him, a groan came from the back of the ambulance as his unwilling donor regained consciousness.
If you subscribe to my monthly newsletter then I’ll see you this Saturday (with funny cat photo!), otherwise I’ll see you again next Thursday!
