17

The acid begins pumping through my legs and lower back ten miles outside of Dumbarton, so I pull into the first layby I can find and take a hit from the wrap. It races up my nose and stabs into my brain like a shard of hot ice, the warm, velvet perfection spreading through my body in a wave that carries away the pain and exhaustion.

I sit slumped in the seat, hands resting on the steering wheel. Ruined, ancient things, skin the colour of wax stretched over gnarled knots of knuckle, mottled with nicks and scars and liver spots. They hurt every time I move them, wake me from my nightmares with bolts of searing agony if I clench them in my sleep.

But still strong when they need to be. Still steady.

Still killers.

I muster the energy to haul myself forward and reach into the glove compartment for the map. It’s an old and tattered thing, just like me, but it serves its purpose. Right now, it’s camouflage, just in case an overly enthusiastic copper decides to take an interest in why I’ve stopped. I unfold it on the steering wheel and stare at it, colours blurring and running into one another as I let my eyes defocus and concentrate on my breathing. I don’t need to look at that map, I know exactly where I’m going.

I grunt what passes for a laugh and feel a lazy smile play across my lips. “Over the sea,” I whisper in a voice I barely recognise as my own. It’s funny, I always wanted to see more of Scotland, but I never had the time.

But I do now. And I have something more, something I’ve not had for a very, very long time.

A mission to believe in.

I blink my eyes back into focus, take another deep breath and flex my hands as I wriggle in the seat and get my legs moving. Not bad. The pain is there, as it always is, but the wrap has numbed the worst of it. I shake my head, make a mental note to pick up some Red Bull at the first service station I come across and get back on the road.

I drive very, very carefully. Not too slowly, not too fast, just another driver on the tourist trail. I feel the urge to press the accelerator down, race to the goal and get on with the mission, but I resist it.

Discipline. Patience. Control. I’ve waited this long. A little longer won’t hurt. I can see the end destination now – my arrival is as inevitable as the death and suffering I will bring.