Brian was seventeen miles past Thirsk and having the time of his life when the car flashed him.

He turned off the radio and peered back with pale face and twitching jowls. He was no longer having the time of his life.

At first, he thought that maybe he had a soft tyre, but then he recalled how the silver BMW had been on the verge of overtaking him when it had pulled back to signal. So it was something to do with him.

Was he having a heart attack? He patted fretfully at his chest with one hand. He didn’t feel like he was, but the doctor had said he was due any time. Could you tell if someone was having a heart attack across fifteen feet of space and two windows while travelling sixty miles per hour up the epic landscape of mountains and valleys that formed the surface of the A172?

He pulled over. So did the BMW.

A stab of anxiety cut deep into his chest as he watched the young lad approach. He kind of looked like some sort of shop worker; not the type you’d expect to be driving a beast like that. And that led Brian to a terrifying thought. Maybe this was final judgement for that time he’d accidentally stolen a Mars Bar from Morrisons that one time when he’d got mad at the sodding machine asking him about his club card. He pictured the supervisor, whoever it had been, sent to head office, tasked before a stern-faced table of directors to do whatever it took to get that fifty nine pence. Company car. Gun in the glove box. A ceaseless hunt across the miles and years, stalking the streets and the roads until finally, at long last, he had found his prey.

But if he did have a gun in the glove box, he’d forgotten to bring it now.

Brian thought about screeching off in a skin-flaying blast of gravel. He wound the window down instead.

The youth looked in, at first rather nervously. Then he took a step forward, a polite smile flickering at the edges of his lips.

“Sorry to bother you, but... are you Father Grimmult, Honoured Finger Collector of the Eternal Sunset?”

Brian blinked. “I don’t know. Am I?”

The youth blinked back. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Nah, I’m not.” It had only been surprise that had made him question it. Now he was beginning to question his bloody sanity, sat here talking to what had turned out to be an absolute loon in the middle of nowhere. Goodness knows what people got up to in these parts where there were no clubs or chippies to keep them going. “Wrong person. Sorry bud. Now if you’re-”

Lightning-quick, the youth snaked his arm through the window, placed a calloused hand on his shoulder. “It really is you. The voice is coming back now.”

Brian unsnaked the arm, as politely as he could, back out the window. “Oh? And where do you know me from again?”

“When you blasted down the side of my house to collect the fingers of my Mam and Dad and older brother.” He saw the expression on Brian’s face. “Oh, you killed them all first. You were never cruel like some of the other collectors.” He gazed up at the clouds dreamily. “I was in my cupboard, shivering and trying not to cry while you crashed about looking for stuff.” He brightened and smiled. “But it’s okay. We were at war back then, but we’re friends now. So come back and I’ll take you to your order.”

Brian merely sat, stunned into silence. And not just at the accusations. No... it was a bit daft, but as the boy was going on about the cupboard.... he could actually see what was happening on the other side. Not that he wanted to.

He was daydreaming. He couldn’t possibly be remembering. Yet that’s what it felt like.

What he did remember was that he was supposed to be having the time of his life.

“Look, you need help, right?” he began as kindly as he could. “So go back to your friends and see a quack or something. I’d really like to help, but I’m getting my DJ set ready for a party tomorrow and -”

“Never mind tomorrow!” the boy interrupted, laughing. “There’ll be a right celebration today. Food and drink!”

Brian thought about his fridge back in his warm, cosy flat just minutes up the road. It currently contained half a tin of hot dogs and a cucumber.

“Yeah, alright. But any funny business, and I’m straight out. You got me?”

The lad turned without a word and danced off to his car.