Carboys and Engines by Alex Lockwood

John clambered half-out the window, then Andy leant out the other side. Matt sat in the front, laughing, pulling on a beer. Their super plan was to shake hands over the car’s roof. I never thought of stopping until the police sirens. “Step out of the car,” said the female officer. She led me to their vehicle. I felt the emptiness and the sulphur of lamplight. It wasn’t quite morning. Spray from the road a scattered muddy arc. John and Andy slinked into the back seat, laughing. John put his head out the window, resting his elbows on the door. “Did you think that was safe?” the female officer asked. She had green eyes. I looked down at her hands. She was holding a straw attached to a plastic bag, like a blood transfusion sac on a hook. “No, officer.” “She’s giving him a blow job,” John shouted. “I want a blowie.” She looked back at John’s face, red from the beer and wind. “Good friends,” she said. She handed me the straw and sac. “Blow, please.” I exhaled. The diode turned green. “Is that good?” I asked. “You’ve not been drinking?” For once, no. “You want to keep them under control,” she said. She looked at her colleague, and with a quiet signal they got back in their patrol and drove away. I got back in the car. I turned round to the boys and smiled and without looking drove headfirst into the oncoming truck.

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