Blood Water

CHAPTER 1

Sunday 17 September

‘Hey, Sean!’

He turned to see his brother James jogging towards him.

‘How are you feeling, mate?’

‘Yeah, not bad,’ Sean replied, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘It’s pretty hot though – reckon some people will find it difficult.’

‘Yeah. Lucky to have a break in the weather though. Would have been miserable if it had been raining again. The ground seems to have dried out a bit.’

They stood at the edge of the large green meadow by the car park, watching all the other entrants warming up and drinking the free water provided by the race organizers.

‘Mum and Dad not arrived yet?’

‘No,’ James replied. ‘They’ll be here though. Dad wanted to finish painting the fence before they left.’

‘Oh, OK.’

‘I had a jog around the lanes earlier. Injury’s getting better, but the foot still isn’t back to normal. Wish I was doing the race with you. I should have been more careful in that half-marathon.’

‘I’d have only tried to keep up with you anyway. And that wouldn’t have been a good idea.’ They both chuckled.

Just then an announcement came over the public address system, calling for the runners to assemble at the start line.

‘Right, well, better get over there. See you at the finish if you’re sticking around.’

‘Yeah, course,’ James replied. ‘Good luck.’

‘Cheers, bro.’

Sean made his way through the crowd of other runners, some still stretching muscles and limbering up. He was starting to feel thirsty again, but knew there were water stops on the way, and besides, he’d run in the heat before and had no problems. Still, he should have had more to drink beforehand, it was common sense. He wandered into the middle of the large group and waited for the horn. Looking around at the other competitors in their different coloured running tops and shorts, he started to feel excited – and confident too. He hadn’t done the annual Orchard Wells ten-kilometre run before, so although he knew the area well, he wasn’t too sure of the route; however, he’d studied the map, and it looked like there were only a couple of hills to deal with.

The countdown began. Sean could feel the heat and the anticipation of the crowd around him. Everyone was quiet, tensed; then the horn sounded and they began cheering. Sean started his stopwatch and set off, running with the others when a gap opened. The group soon spread out further as the faster runners at the front moved ahead. As they left the meadow and surged across the car park, Sean turned to wave at James who raised his hand in return.

He picked up a little speed as they climbed the hill, ready to slow down if the ascent became too tough, but the ground levelled out and then sloped down. He found a pace he was comfortable with and stayed with it, keeping his eye on his stopwatch and the mile markers that cropped up along the way. Three and a half miles in, he reached the first big hill. He took it at a slightly slower pace, and was able to get to the top without too much trouble, his breathing heavier but not a problem. There was a water station there, so he grabbed a cup, drank half of it while still moving and poured the rest over his head. He was disheartened to see another large hill up ahead, but he tried to keep up the pace, reluctant to slow down and walk like many of the other runners. He pushed on, perspiring, panting, driving himself forward, until eventually the top of the hill came into view.

Five miles gone, the end was in sight, but Sean was struggling. He was finding it harder and harder to stick to the pace he’d set himself, and his muscles were aching. He had forgotten to take on enough water, but he pushed on, determined to get to the finish without slowing down. He kept up with a runner in front, then pushed harder to overtake. His throat was paper dry and his running vest felt soaked. I must be nearing the finish now, he kept thinking, wondering how one mile could seem so long. He carried on, gasping, veering off course a little every now and then, until he saw the other competitors leaving the road and heading down a narrow tree-lined lane. Great, he thought. About time.

He decided to speed up now that the end was near, pushing his body as hard as he dared despite the pain in his lungs. He turned off the road and hurtled down the lane, trying to control his body at the increased speed. Suddenly something felt very wrong: his feet seemed detached, his body heavier and his vision cloudy. He felt like someone or something had hit him on the head and he swerved to the side, colliding with a loose iron railing, nearly falling, but somehow managing to stay on his feet. He heard the railing crash to the ground and a nearby sheep bleat in surprise, but there was no time to worry about that now.

He looked at his watch again, finding it hard to focus: this could be his best time ever. He had to speed up and use every last ounce of energy if he was going to make this race count. It was no longer a casual race, a bit of fun; it was everything to him, all important.

He emerged from the lane into the large field – a crowd of people were clustered around the finish line at the far end. His feet still felt like foreign objects, and he now realized how much he was weaving to and fro. Something was definitely wrong, and it was more than just exhaustion, but he was still ignoring it, pushing himself to the limit. To the spectators he looked like a drunkard, or someone staggering injured from a battlefield.

Thoughts swam in his head. He finally understood that there was a problem, but he had no idea what. He lurched on, seeing what looked like people running towards him. Was that James at the front? It looked like him. In seconds his brother was right in front of him, telling him to stop: he was still moving though, resisting his brother’s attempts to halt him, but then it registered. He was in trouble. All at once a black car appeared next to him. Where had it come from? And Mum was there too now. James was telling him to sit down.

Then they were getting him into the passenger seat; the owner of the vehicle – a man he didn’t recognize – was asking him if he was all right. He didn’t know though, he couldn’t really tell. They drove off to the other end of the field. He saw other runners finishing. Not him though. For some reason he wasn’t allowed to finish the race. Voices merged into each other, his vision swam and he started to panic.