I glanced at the side mirror; all I saw were my own eyes peering anxiously into the darkness.

Screeeeek!

A flash of light zoomed past us.

I swung the door open and clambered out of the truck like a potential victim in a horror film. My heart hammered in my chest as I spotted a boy sprawled motionless on the street. His legs were bent unnaturally, and one hand was the colour of “bleeding pork.”.

Thump.

The boy's hands seized my ears. I overflowed with adrenaline, as if I were about to go to war. A soft ‘oomph’ escaped the boy’s mouth as my fist met his muscled flesh, and blood spurted from his exposed soressores' wounds onto my split lips. Soon after, thick clouds of smoke rolled in like boulders.

“Come here, Albie,” I called out from the shadows. “He’s unconscious. We shouldn’t move him. I’ll [get] help.”

It felt as if an artery had ruptured. “Now get on him,” I told Albie. “He won’t move… I won’t be long. Stay put.”

Chirp.