Her t-shirt soaked through in the downpour, stuck to her back, “Got…to get him…away from here…” she puffed, her words whipped out of her mouth as she spoke.
“Where to?” groaned her friend spitting her hair out of her mouth as the wind swept a sheet of rain across the lane.
“Is he dead? Really dead?” the third girl could barely feel her hands as she clutched the man’s sodden jacket as they dragged him through the muddy track.
The first raised her head and nodded, ignoring the rain dripping off her nose, and the three of them heaved succeeding in hauling the dead weight a few more feet towards the ditch.
As they paused for breath and to regain grip, the street light above them exploded and sparks flew through the torrents of rain…and the heavy bulk within their grasp opened his eye…
Photograph by Bekah Shambrook