I looked in the side mirror; all I saw were my eyes peering into the darkness. It was like something out of a horror film. As I got out of the car, my heartbeat quickened, quivering with terror and adrenaline coursing through my veins. This had to be a severe accident. Four metres away from his motorcycle, I spot an unconscious man. As I grab the unconscious man’s hand, I realise it has the “colour'colour of bleeding porkpork'.” His blood poured onto the stonestony ground. Seeing this much blood is terrifying for Albie to witness. I heard footsteps but wasn’t sure where. I paused, waiting for movement. Thump. Thump. The man shoves me to the ground and grabs my ear as I turn. World War II had started. I felt my fist connect with his muscled flesh. I heard a soft voice echoing, Oomphoomph. My cracked, split lips were dripping with blood.

“Come'Come here, AlbieAlbie',” I call out from the shadows. “He’s'He’s unconscious. We shouldn’t move him. I’ll have to call for helphelp',” I respond, still trying to regain my breath.

I could smell blood. It smells like a vein ruptured. “Now'Now get on himhim',” I tell Albie. “Put'Put your feet on his hands. He won’t move … I won’t be long-stay putlong--stay put'.”

Crickets chanted in the background. I had a weak feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s like when your stomach drops at the peak of a roller coaster, but the adrenaline doesn’t go away. I set off to town. Each minute lasted an hour. I quickly lost hope because there was no light in the distance. Time passed, and I noticed a beacon on top of the town hall. The light shined bright like the sun.