Page 9 of Light Up
“I don’t think…” He looked dazed.
“Have mine.” He pulled it off from under his hood and gave it to him. “Turn up your collar.”
The hat was a pink woolly one with bunny ears. Corey wondered if he’d take it, but he did.
“Thank you.”
“You look cute.”
“Well…bunny ears. Who wouldn’t look cute?”
That made Corey smile. “Maybe we should shelter in my car. I could try and cover the windscreen.”
“Okay.”
Corey pulled the duvet out of the boot and passed it to the guy as he climbed in the back. The cardboard wasn’t much of a shield against the driving snow but it was better than nothing.
When he’d fixed it as best he could, Corey climbed in the back too. “Any idea where we are?”
“You don’t know?”
Corey bristled again. “I wouldn’t have asked if I did. I was looking for somewhere to pull in so I could check Google Maps. I’ve done this journey before but I was concentrating so hard on driving safely, I must have taken a wrong turn.”
“My navigation said I was eighty miles from my destination but I’d not registered where I actually was apart from thinking the route was more rural than I’d expected at this stage.”
“There’s nothing for miles the way I came,” Corey said. “The truck and your car were the only vehicles I’d seen for at least thirty minutes. Definitely no villages, houses, pubs or farms.” He felt a niggle of concern. “Bit worrying really. Snow that wasn’t forecast and no signs of civilisation. Maybe we’ve slipped through a portal into a parallel dimension.” He managed a small smile.
This guy didn’t. “I don’t think that’s likely.”
Corey sighed. “I know. I was trying to cheer myself up.”
“You want to be in a parallel dimension?”
With you? Yes. Or maybe no, if you have no sense of humour.“At times.”
“I saw lights about a mile back. Not a village but…something up on a hill. I’m not sure there’s any point staying here. The cardboard windscreen is already sagging. Mine’s…not an option to shelter in. I didn’t see any vehicles either. We really are in the middle of nowhere.”
“How long will cars burn?” Corey asked. “We won’t freeze to death if we stay near yours. And we could always set fire to mine afterwards.” The car was a write-off. His third-party insurancewould only pay for damage to other vehicles or people. He might have to pay to get it towed to a scrapyard, which was irritating.
“I don’t think we should rely on the cars being a continuous source of heat. We could leave a message in your boot and head towards the lights I saw.”
They climbed out of the car. Corey pulled the boot open again and found a book and a pen from his broken box.
“What’s your name?” Corey asked.
“Tal Whittaker.
“I’m Corey Jenkins. I’ll write that a truck hit us and we’re walking on past the car that’s on fire, so they know which direction we took.”
“Okay.”
Corey decided to take his bag with him, and his guitar, obviously. The case was supposed to be waterproof. He couldn’t carry the rest of his things.
He heaved his bag onto one shoulder, slung the guitar on another, shot Tal a smile which this time was returned—oh you are so hot—and they set off, with Tal blinking snow from his lashes.
He lookedreallycute in Corey’s pink hat.
Three
