As Michael drove in his Chevy, he listened to the latest radio news of the murders and house fires. He leaned his elbow on the door of the car and rested his temples on his fist, sighing as the death toll rose; first the girl at the bar, then the family in the house and now the men involved in Michael's gun fight, but Bobby's name wasn't among the dead, so Emma still wasn't safe. He listened to the acoustic guitar of the next song and felt his body relax at the sounds of the strings as the singer plucked away at them, serenading his listeners with his silky voice. Michael looked out at the road as the cars began to slow down, making him slow down too and stop. Michael stuck his head out the window of his car and noticed that two men were standing talking in the road, one of their cars was parked on the hard shoulder and the other beside it, blocking it. He climbed out of his car and took this as a chance to stretch his legs, so Michael climbed out of the car, leaving the song on the radio.
In the car behind, the driver climbed out as well and approached him, looking angry and ready to strike as cars going the opposite way passed them by. "Hey!" The driver yelled, gathering Michael's attention as the teenager stepped onto the grass beside the hard shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?" He asked, oblivious to the cars in front of Michael's. "You cant just-!" The man stopped once he spotted the two men up ahead laughing during their conversation, making the man turn back to Michael with an apologetic expression. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I thought it was-" He tried to say, but the teenager interrupted him.
"No, it's okay" Michael said, nodding his head in understanding, turning to look back at the two men still talking. The apologetic driver left the side of Michael and marched towards the men up the gentle slope. As he started shouting at them, Michael faced his car and placed his hands on the roof, leaning on it to take a deep breath. He noticed something at the corner of his eye and looked round to it, noticing it was the child in the car behind his trying to get out of the car, on the side where the cars were coming. With a look of sudden alarm, Michael rushed around the front of his car, whacking the wing mirror of his Chevy as the child climbed out and began to tootle across the road, as if rushing over to something. As fast as he could, Michael went up behind the child and grabbed him by the waist, pushing him forward and across to the other side of the road, making him roll away on the floor as a car ploughed into Michael, disconcerting the driver. Michael rolled over the windscreen of the car and almost flipped off the roof, then landed heavily on the black tar-maced road beneath him on his side.
The driver of the car behind his turned around to face the sound of smashing glass and cracking metal, and his eyes widened in horror as he saw the teenager lying on his side in the road as the car he'd collided with stopped. He rushed to the poor boy's side and placed his fingers on Michael's wrist, checking for a pulse, then sighed with absolute relief as he saw his eyes moving beneath his bruised eyelids. "Can you hear me, kid?" The man asked him, his hand on Michael's shoulder.
Michael pried open his eyes and looked up at the man, then to the child as he appeared behind his father, then straight up to the clear blue sky and imagined seeing Emma running down the road to come to his side. "Emma" He mumbled, barely audible.
"What?" The man asked, unable to hear him.
Michael didn't say anything else as more people began to crowd around him, instead he slowly and painfully pushed himself up onto his elbows and rolled over onto his stomach, curling his legs underneath him to sit on his knees, breathing hard with effort. He pushed himself up onto his feet and steadied himself, batting away a woman's hand as she tried to make him stay still, but that only made him stumble backwards a little. Once he'd got his balance back, he turned away from the group of gathered people and wobbled towards his car, sliding in and closing the door as the song on the radio began to finish. Michael leaned over and readjusted the rear view mirror to look at his face, which he saw had a small gash on his forehead just above his left eye and a scratch on his chin as well as his face being bruised and cut from the fights with his brother. The man who spoke to him earlier appeared suddenly in the window of his car and knocked lightly on it, startling Michael slightly. He pushed a button and the window rolled down, allowing the man's heavy breath to be heard. He held the black SnapBack up and offered it to Michael, who took it with a small smile, then grimaced at his shoulder as he placed the hat back onto his head. The man left him alone.