Unanswered Questions

• Rose Gilligan, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2017

“Alex. Alex!” I rub my eyes, waiting for my vision to adjust. My girlfriend, Linda, is shaking me by the shoulder.
“What?” I grumble, annoyed that she’d woken me up. “We’re not there yet, are we?” Looking outside the car answers my question. We are on the old highway in the bush, and the car is completely silent. I can hear cicadas chirping outside.
“Car’s broken down. I’m gonna go check the engine.” She gets out of the car and opens the bonnet, obscuring my view of her. I smile, knowing of her fear of being alone. I put my earphones in, and let Nirvana take my anxieties away.
“Linda?” I call out. She usually pokes her head around the bonnet every five minutes or so. It’s been twenty. I pull out my earphones, and step outside the car.
The first thing that hits me is the cold. It's too cold for summer. I shiver, despite wearing a long-sleeve. “Lindy, come out, this isn’t funny.” I walk around to the front of the car. Linda isn’t there. Then I hear the scream. I race to the source of the noise, gravel crunching beneath my shoes, and I witness the most horrifying thing. Linda is struggling against the hold of some person. Some person with a knife. I stand, helpless to intervene, as they drive that knife across her throat. My heart stops as Linda’s killer turns to look at me. And then runs in my direction.
My instincts take over, and I run into the bush, faster than I ever have before. Twigs snap underfoot. Tree branches slap against my face, but I don’t care. Linda’s killer is only a few metres behind me, breathing unlike anything I’ve ever heard. Ragged and raspy, like an asthmatic smoker.
I can only outrun my assailant for so long though, before I lose my footing and find myself falling down a hill. I throw out my arm, trying to soften the fall, but I am instead greeted with a sickening snap and unbelievable pain shooting through my arm.
Through the bushes, I see my pursuer walk to the edge of the hill and look over. I freeze, remaining as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe. Bile rises to the back of my throat and I swallow it down. The last thing I remember before blacking out is Linda’s killer turning and walking away.
“Alex. Alex!” I open my eyes with a start. I look around the car, panicked, and my eyes fall on Linda in the driver’s seat. We are parked outside our motel room, in the middle of the day. Linda’s okay.
I go to open the door, but stop when I see my arm is in a cast. A feeling of dread rises in my stomach.
“…What really happened last night, Linda?” I ask after a pause.
She looks at me for a second, before whispering, “I’m sorry, Alex,” and I lose consciousness once more.