Human Sized Hurricane | Michael Clifford

Chapter 16 - Late Night

Emma looked down at her phone in her lap and sighed for the hundredth time in that minute, wishing Michael would text or call and not ignore her one phone call. Andy kept his eyes on the main road ahead of them as he reached arm across and placed it on the back on her neck, stroking it gently and affectionately, before removing it and placing it back on the steering wheel. "I fucked this up, haven't I?" Emma said, her voice sounding as if she were about to give up.

Andy looked at her in surprise, but smiled and turned his attention back to the road. "Why do you say that?" He asked her.

"Because I should be with Michael... being lazy somewhere and eating KFC and not on the run. And you should be sitting at your desk or watching cricket and not... not on the run" She replied, picking at her fingernails agitatedly.

"So this Michael. What's he like?" Andy asked, breathing in deeply. "Are you and him boyfriend and girlfriend?" He asked.

Emma scoffed. "I wish!" She said. "He's really nice to me, but he won't let me hug him or touch him because he's afraid of... something" She told her dad, with-holding the whole truth from him.

"But you like him?" Andy questioned.

"Yes I like him" She said just as her phone lit up with vibrating notification, getting her hopes up a little. She saw it was a 'Tips' notification and discarded it.

As the sun set a few hours later, Andy drove around a roundabout on an exit on the motorway and turned into the road leading to the Premier Inn. He parked in amongst the other cars and got out, collecting his and Emma's bags while she climbed out with the biggest frown he'd ever seen. "Cheer up, lass" Andy said to her as he handed her bags and walked toward the entrance to the hotel.

Checking into a room, Emma put her bags on the sofa bed against the wall in the small room. It was a floor near the top with a view of  Heathrow Airport's Terminal 5. Emma sat down on the edge of the double bed and sighed, running her fingers through her hair as he father chucked his bags down and loosened his tie. Opposite the double bed was a chest of drawers with a small television atop it. He noticed outside the window that the view of the airport was spectacular, and he watched as a line of airplanes in the distance queued in mid air as they came into land. Andy looked around and noticed there was a telephone on the bedside table for them and a thought occurred to him. "Emma? If you want to ring Michael, it's best to use this phone instead of your own" He told her, pointing to the grey contraption.

Emma stood up and moved around the bed as he father wondered across to the window and looked out, closing the curtains most of the way so he couldn't be seen by anyone outside, then he switched the telly on and turned to volume of the news down to a respectable noise. Emma dialled Michael's number and waited as it rang, twisting the cord around her fingers. "Emma" She heard Michael say instead of a greeting just as the story of a shooting came into the news.

Emma stared at it in disbelief as the news crews filmed the covered bodies of the men killed in the gun fight in their house. "Michael? What's going on? Where are you?" She asked him.

He panted and coughed as he held the phone to his ear, jogging down another street of houses in the darkness of the night. "I'm on my way to a friends house..." He took a breath, not stopping running. "And he can help me"

"Help you?" Emma furrowed her eyebrows and turned away from the television as he dad sat on the end of the bed watching it. "Why, what's wrong?" She asked concerned.

"I can't tell you, not over the phone. But I'll be fine. Don't worry" Michael said and hanged up the phone as he continued jogging along the road. But he collapsed onto the road and clutched at his side, grimacing and yelling out with the pain. He took his hand away from his bloody shirt and looked at his blood soaked hand. But undeterred, he pushed himself back up to his feet and called a number on his phone.

"Hello?" The familiar voice said from his house not too far away.

"Ashton. I need your help" Michael said out of breath.

"Michael?" Ashton questioned turning on the light in his room, and drawing Michael's eyes up to it, concluding his suspicions that that was his house. "What - How did you get my number?" He asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"It doesn't matter. But right now, I need you to look out your window and down at the road. Okay?" Michael said, taking the phone away from his ear to cry out in pain and curse.

Ashton got up from his bed and crossed his bedroom to move the curtains and look out into the night. He looked at the road in front of the house, then up and down the road until he spotted Michael standing hunched over in the middle of the road. "I can see you, dude. What do you want? Why the hell are you outside my house?" He asked, getting frustrated. Then as Michael struggled to stand up straight, he saw a huge red blood stain on his shirt and his eyes widened with the pain of the wound. "Oh my god. Hang on. I'm coming down" Ashton said, hanged up the phone and tossed it on his bed, then raced through the empty house and out through the front door, catching Michael just as he collapsed to his knees. "What happened to you?" Ashton asked as he held on of Michael's arms over his neck and helped him back to his feet. Hearing only grunts and breaths of sharp pain, Ashton hurriedly got the injured teenager into his house and up the stairs, being careful to go at a slow enough pace for Michael. As they entered the large bathroom, Ashton guided Michael to the bath and helped him in instructing him to removed his shirt while he looked for the first aid kit.