Robin quickly took a few breaths and looked up to see the small flame had been joined by three more. He wiped his brow and took Loamfield’s shoulders again, pulling him from the vicinity of the car. He was the one who screamed this time—in anger, in pain, in simple white-hot emotion. He got Loamfield ten feet away, then twenty, then thirty—all the time thinking he was going to pull so hard his arms would dislocate from his elbows. He stopped at the base of the embankment and looked at the car, as it became ablaze.

He looked down at Loamfield—there was phlegm frothing from his mouth and suddenly his eyes flickered open. He instantly howled in pain. His eyes flicked around and fell on Robin. He looked, seeming to recognize him. “He...” He wheezed.

“Don’t talk,” Robin said. “You’re going to be okay.” He got his phone, dialed 999. As he did, there was a creaking sound from the car. He looked up.

The car exploded, the sound and the heat working together to frighten the hell out of Robin. Robin dived over Loamfield, shielding him. His ears rang and he felt as though his face was on fire. And in a second, it was over.

Robin looked around. The car wreck was still flaming.

And then a voice. On the phone that had slipped out of his hand. He picked it up. Didn’t even wait for the person on the other end to speak. “We...we need an ambulance. There’s been a car wreck, on the dual carriageway between New Hall and Marsden. I don’t know the road, sorry. There’s... I’ve got the driver out—he’s bleeding badly. He’s in and out of consciousness. Please just send somebody.”

The person on the other end said something. But he didn’t know what. He just ended the call and knelt over Loamfield.

The man was out again. Robin ripped open his shirt to see an open wound the size of his hand in his stomach. Must have been from the collision—it was oozing blood and some other substance. He got a better look at the man’s legs—they had no definition to them at all. He suspected they were both broken. Robin looked back at his face, and almost jumped when he saw Loamfield staring at him. His right eye was bloodshot and his stare was askew. He kept fluttering his eyelids and Robin could tell he was holding on to reality.

Loamfield wheezed.

“Help is coming. I’ve called them,” Robin said, hoping he was providing some comfort. But truth was, he didn’t even know if Loamfield was understanding him.

“Where is he...?” Loamfield started and trailed off—the rest of the sentence a whisper. Robin bent down and put his ear to Loamfield’s mouth. “Matthew. Matthew...ran me off the road.”

Robin looked at him. And his eyes closed again.