An Odd Kind Of Wonderful

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT
"I'm lost but I'm hopeful." (Alanis Morisette)

    There's a bang from inside the pub and my head snaps around. The strobing green and red lights flash yellow. The next few things happen in quick succession—one, the red lights are replaced by that of a police car, siren blaring, shaking my eardrums. Two, Raisa jumps out of the way and tugs me with her. The car grinds to a half in the middle of the car park. Three, a male and a female officer step out. My first instinct is to duck back into the shadows, and luckily, Raisa's on my wavelength, and soon enough we're both hidden. Four, smoke files into a steady pillar stemming from under and above the main door. Five, a man is thrust out the door by an angry-looking bartender.

    We wait for Joel to have his turn stumbling through the door, but he doesn't come. I watch, eyes trained on the doorway, the entire audience spill from the hotel. The police begin interviewing people. "We should go," whispers Raisa right in my ear.

    "What's happened to Joel?" I whisper back. As much as I would hate a 'talk' with the police, I don't want to leave without Joel. I don't want to be without the group of people who have properly got me. And I got them. It wouldn't be right to continue without everybody's favourite Van Morrison fan. I tell Raisa this, voice as hushed as I can make it, and she laughs so softly it's like she didn't laugh at all.    

    I am just as frozen as the girl beside me, so frozen I don't notice how close we are until she moves away a centimeter, separating us. Neither of us dare to breathe. Another car pulls up and uses a fire extinguisher to kill the flames, and the smoke slowly ceases. Then, my eyes grow wide. A body is being guided out of the remaining smoke, not distinguishable; I can only see his outline. He moves slowly and shuffles his feet over one another. Is he injured? Is it Joel?

    The combination of moon and street and city and car lights rain over his face and I breathe out a synonymous sigh of relief. The man is clean-shaven, blonde, and a bigger build than the brown-haired, whiskery weed that is Joel. Adrenaline disperses and I can see clearly again—but where is Joel? Maybe he's still in there... I swap a look with Raisa and know she's thinking the same.

    Raisa whips around behind her. I hear a slap, and a voice that sounds like Joel's saying: "Jesus, Raisa!"

    "Where were you?" Raisa snaps at him, but catches herself halfway and quietens. She reaches a hand up, grabs a fistful of Joel's precious hair-do and pulls him down into the shadows with us.

    He slaps her hand away and scowls. He might have been about to answer Raisa when the police officers look in our direction with raised eyebrows so instead he says, "We have to leave." Silently agreeing, we wait until no-one is looking to slink back to the car; I'm holding my breath the whole way.

   -

    No-one dares speak until we're on the highway again. From our rush into the car, I'm now in the front seat and Raisa is in the back seat behind me. Joel hasn't said anything about it, but he comes off as being the sort of person who is the only person who drives his car, and may execute anyone else who attempts to. Slowly, I begin to notice the city falling—the calm demeanor I'd observed while walking over the Iron Cove has dripped away. I see a few people standing on street corners with signs, "The world is ending! The apocalypse is nigh!" Of course, there's always been those, but it seems they've all come out at the one time. The streets gradually become a lined with a thinner layer of people; but the commotion has been replaced up above, in the apartment buildings. It's 7:00pm, and party time, apparently. I don't feel like I'm partying, not at all like I'd promised Harry and Kieran.