The Decision
Recently, Years 7 & 8 wrote for the National Short Story Young Writer competition. The winners will be announced in April. The remit was to write a short story entitled ‘The Decision’.
It all started when I saw those blue flashing lights. The ones that still haunt my dreams today.
I was heading to a race, late one Saturday evening, along the streets of San Francisco. Illegal and hated by many, this was one of the qualifiers for the most prestigious race due at the end of the year. The race everyone wanted to win, and I was determined to be there. The smell of exhaust filed the air as the race began. I was in the lead, rounding a bend when I saw the unmistakeable black and white paintjob of a police car. I was petrified. In all my years of street racing I had never been in this kind of situation before, but I could already tell it was too late to slow down, too late to try and blend in, I knew that they had seen me. Within a few seconds their sirens were blaring and the chase was on.
I made an impulse decision. Ditching the race completely I went off into the unknown, on my own random path. I didn’t have a clue why they targeted me and not the other racers, but I was soon to find out. Not long into the chase I looked through my wing mirror and saw the two men inside the car. Jack and Jim-Bob. I had known these guys my whole life, friends from school, but they had become policemen. They knew I lived outside the law. I felt utterly betrayed.
A surge of anger spurred me on to drive my greatest. Five minutes passed with them hot on my tail, but as they lost ground they called in reinforcements. There were now seven police vehicles against me alone.
Speeding ahead, it wasn’t long before I saw my worst fear. A spike strip. I spun the wheel with all my strength, my car swerving violently to the left. I was filled with fear and anxiety that I might crash. Hurtling off the road, my car bumped up and down, my head to hitting the ceiling. Dazed by the impact I forgot about the cops for a moment and spun the wheel round, putting my car into an uncontrollable drift. Struggling now, I tried to recalibrate the direction of my car. I finally got back onto the flat asphalt of the road and swiftly regained control. Slamming my foot on the pedal I glanced tentatively behind me. The police cars were spread out across the road, none of them moving. I was ecstatic, I thought I had got away. Suddenly, a car came swerving out into the road behind me. It was Jack and Jim-Bob. The chase was going to move up a notch.
For a long time it was just us. Swerving round bends, speeding on straights and running all the red lights. That was when it happened. I had just rounded a bend, Jack and Jim-Bob close on my tail, when a car came out of nowhere, smashing into my ex-friends car. The phantom car went spinning off in the other direction whilst my old school friends were catapulted high into the air, locked inside their car. I slammed on my brakes. I did not know whether to drive off and escape the police, or to get out and help.
I made my decision. I got out of my car and ran over to the flaming police car. Risking my life, I opened the burning passenger door. Jim-Bob was slouched over, still strapped in. I was sweating, the heat making me feel faint. I struggled to unstrap him, fumbling with the belt it finally released. I dragged him out of the car and left him a few metres from the inferno that engulfed his vehicle.
Sprinting back to the car, I worried about Jack. I opened his door and tried to unstrap him too, but the buckle had melted. My eyes darted around, searching for ways to get him out. The flames reflecting on something shiny, I pulled at it. A knife. Perfect. I slashed at the seatbelt which restrained the now unconscious Jack. The seatbelt tore and I yanked Jack out of the flaming car. I dragged him to where Jim-Bob lay motionless, away from the inevitable explosion.
My work here was done. I walked away and climbed into my car. Feeling the adrenaline still rushing through me I just managed to pull off, when I heard the noise of the police car exploding behind me.
Weeks passed by and I couldn’t get the image of the burning car out of my mind. I had returned to my underground life, back with the people who knew and understood me, but I wondered what became of my friends.
I put all my energy into racing, focusing on winning to block out the recurring thoughts of my friends lying motionless on the ground. I worked my way through the races, winning each one of them. Strangely, there was never any sign of the police after that fateful day.
Then the night came. The culmination of all my efforts, the final and most prestigious race of the underground season. Me against an unknown champion.
It was midnight as I pulled up onto the start line, my palms were sweaty as I gripped the wheel. This was it, my chance to win the title and the vast amount of money that went with it. I was overcome with a strange desire to glance at my opponent. As I looked over into the adjacent car I recognized the face of the driver. Jim-Bob. Our eyes met. But where was Jack. Jim-Bobs face was filled with sadness, he read my mind.
“Jack’s bad,” he said, “extensive burns and his medical bills are huge. We need the money and I didn’t know how else to raise it.” We looked ahead. He was the last opponent I expected. As our feet pushed down on the accelerator. There was only one choice.
