On the muddy ground Leeham, stood waiting, for what he didn’t know. Sometimes he would shuffle the dead feet, or rock a bit from side to dead side. Or he would close his dead eyes and try to remember something that he was in a process of very rapidly forgetting. His name maybe. Or the face of people he knew or the route from his house to a local off license via his mate’s house whose name he cunt remember. Anyway during a break in the match Captain came over to Leeham and said what was his problem didn’t he want to play and Leeham said no not yet but maybe he would play in a bit like, he was just thinking about it. And Captain said fine then he could just stay there at the touchline if that’s what he felt like and Leeham said OK but then all of a sudden before Captain could leave and get back to the match he (Leeham) start(ed) to cry a bit. And Captain said what’s a matter why you sad like that and Leeham said look up there. And the dead captain followed his gaze/looked up and saw the hole scene with the crash wreck and the stretchers and ambulances and everything and seemed to understand with a nod what L. was talking about but he was like so what, so what. And Leeham said it’s frightening, kinda like frightening me. And the dead Captain shrugged kind of thing and said it is what it is what it is. And Leeham said Bruv he dint like it much to look up there tho cos he was too scared to see a Bad Omen and the Captain kind of laughed a bit under his dead breath and said what did he mean a Bad Omen? and Leeham said he was mostly scared to see his own Dead Self getting carried out of a mangled vehicle covered in Wounds and the Captain said don’t look up there then it’s simple as that don’t look just don’t look up there anymore and Leeham said OK he would not look but tbh it no matter what his brain or mouth said cos of cause his eyes wer the ones that were always drawn back to look in up there and kept glancing back up there, just like eyes to a flame.

*

By a round maybe midnight or like 1am tho the trucks on the accident site were all gone and the carriageway was hosed and cleared, broken glass on the hard shoulder, paps long since vanished in pursuit of other nearby professional opportunities that presented themselves to ghouls at that time and the faint smell of imported premium gasoline.