Mark
It was the car's incessant horn that caused Mark to regain full consciousness. He leaned slowly back in the driver's seat, taking stock. He carefully moved each part of his body as much as that was possible while still being strapped to the seat.
Legs, hips, shoulders. Thankfully, there seemed to be no injuries. Only his head pounded and he groaned in pain.
Blinking a couple of times, he looked down at the steering wheel and saw that the airbag had fired. It had probably saved him from a worse head injury. The motor was still running, and he could hear the wheels fighting for grip, throwing dirt and stone against the undercarriage.
Mark turned the engine off, and thankfully the noise below him ceased. The incessant horn, unfortunately, droned on, worsening his searing headache.
Must have jammed in the crash, he thought, hitting the button on the steering wheel a couple of times to no avail. He sighed, exasperated.
It took him a second to find the switch for the cabin light. The car was a rental he had picked up at the airport and he was unfamiliar with the dashboard.
With the light from the ceiling filling the interior, he noticed the damage to the windscreen for the first time. He hadn't spotted it during the crash but something massive must have smashed against it. It was still in one piece but badly, cracked, fractures covering it like huge spiderwebs.
Beyond the window, the night was still filled with the thick mist that had surprised Mark on the road. It had appeared out of nowhere, obscuring his view in all directions. He had immediately slowed down and switched to the fog lights but it hadn't made much of a difference.
He didn't remember it happening, but he must have driven off the road and crashed. It had gone so fast, he could only recall the details.
Concerned, he lowered the sun visor to examine his reflection in the mirror. The lights next to the mirror lit up, allowing him to study his meticulously groomed face. Feeling his chin, the first stubble already made itself known.
On a long day, Mark shaved twice. Since he was traveling and the customer only expected him tomorrow morning, he had skipped the afternoon shave to spare his skin the irritation. Something he usually only did on Sundays.
Still irritating, he thought. It was Monday after all.
Remembering why he had looked into the mirror in the first place, he glanced up, checking his forehead. The skin was unbroken and there were no discolorations. Maybe he had a mild concussion but thankfully he had been left unmarked.
Mark closed the visor and returned his attention to the situation at hand. The horn clearly wouldn't stop on its own. At least not until the battery was used up. The longer he had to listen to the constant noise, the worse it made his headache.
He opened his seatbelt and moved his seat all the way back. Having created some space, he was able to search for the fuse box under the steering wheel. He opened it and after studying the setup for two seconds he ripped out the main fuse.
The horn winked out. And so did the cabin light.
Sitting in darkness, Mark breathed in and out slowly. Still progress, he decided.
The nerve-wracking noise gone, he was able to think more than one step ahead again. The car was written off, leaving him stranded in the middle of nowhere. All he knew was he had crashed off course next to a country road. No buildings, no other vehicles. Not another person in sight
It took a bit of fumbling around in the dark to find his still neatly folded suit jacket.
Mark felt a pang of relief when his hand closed around the packet of cigarettes in the left chest pocket. But that would have to wait. He reached into the other pocket to retrieve his phone but his hand came back empty. Patting the rest of the jacket brought no result either.
It must have fallen in the crash, he thought and started to feel around for it. It was an uncomfortable search, stretching and twisting his arm as the reach from the driver's seat was limited. After a minute of awkwardly bending over the seat, he gave up. He would just have to go around.
When he opened the driver's door he ran into the next problem. After a finger's breadth, the door hit something solid and wouldn't move any further. Trying to force it only produced the sound of metal on rigid stone.
Mark shook his head. By this point, he had regained enough clarity that his mental discipline kept him from cursing. He decided to accept his situation and climbed over to the passenger seat while making an extra effort not to wrinkle his suit jacket under him.
He reached out for the passenger door.
Holding his breath for a second, he tried the door handle. To his relief, it opened smoothly. Immediately wisps of mist snaked their way into the car. With his eyes slowly getting used to the dark, Mark wondered about the incredibly thick wall of grey outside. He could not remember ever having experienced such weather before. Surely not in the city. Not even on the construction sites he had visited when he had still worked as an engineer.
You can wonder about the local weather later, he thought. His current priorities were, first finding his phone to identify his location. Second, call for help. Nodding to himself he swung his legs out of the car with a smooth motion and had to immediately grit his teeth not to curse again.
The moment his feet hit the ground, icy cold water spilled over them, filling his leather shoes and soaking up his suit pants. He made a step to the side, hoping for higher ground, and almost stumbled over a rock. More water splashed up his leg.
Trying not to think about what nature was currently doing to his carefully selected outfit, Mark made his way to the car's rear. He couldn't see much further ahead than six feet, but he hoped that the rear was roughly pointing in the direction of the road and dry ground.
He seemed to have driven into some kind of riverbed. The ground was littered with larger and smaller stones, endangering him to trip every step. When he reached the rear, his feet hit dry ground.
Relieved to be out of the icy water but still wary of the uneven ground beneath his feet Mark rounded the car. As on all of his trips, he carried a selection of exercise clothes including a pair of sports shoes in his luggage. He struggled for a moment to find the trunk's button in the dark before stopping himself.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to slow down. The accident, his cold feet, the damage the water and stones were currently doing to his leather shoes - it all grated on his mental discipline. He had opened the trunk only a couple of hours ago at the airport. He knew where the mechanism was.
Remembering the movement, his hand reached out, finding the button almost immediately. Happy, with himself Mark pressed it. Nothing happened. Which made perfect sense since he had killed the car's electronics when he had removed the fuse.
Mark took a long breath. Then he hit the rear window with his flat hand. "Fuck!"
Anne would be rolling on the floor laughing if she could see me now, he thought. The thought sobered him up immediately. He pushed the mental image aside and thought about his next step.
With reluctance, he waded back into the water to find his phone. Finally getting some luck, he found it right away in the passenger side's footwell. Unlocking the screen, he saw that it had survived the crash but that he had no network connection.
Feeling the cold creeping into his feet, he returned to the rear and tried to work out where he was in relation to the road. The mist was still thick but based on the direction of the water running under the car he guessed the direction of the other riverbank. Careful, not to trip over one of the water-rounded stones the riverbed was littered with he made his way through the muddy grey soup.
Despite the phone's built-in flashlight, he eventually did trip after only a couple of steps when something caught between his legs. He landed on knees and one hand, managing to keep his jacket safely away from the dirt with the other.
His knees hurt a bit, but Mark didn't mind. Having been an enthusiastic grappler since his university days, he was used to bumps and bruises. It was the damage to his suit pants that really bothered him. What would whoever came to his aid think, when they found him in this state? He considered going back and smashing in the rear window to get to his luggage but decided against it. It was inefficient to go back now and so he would endure it.
Getting back to his feet he felt for the object that had tripped him up. To his surprise, his hand came back with a smooth stick, reaching him to the shoulder. The straight piece of wood had clearly been worked by human hand.
Looks like a hiker left me his walking stick, Mark thought.
While he was a pathological fitness enthusiast always hoping there would be a gym nearby when he traveled, he had never understood hiking. He could appreciate a panoramic scenery, but why people would choose to spend hours sweating while surrounded by dirt and insects was beyond him.
Yet, at this moment he was grateful for it. Like a blind man, he used the stick to explore the misty ground in front of him, determined to avoid stumbling again.
After a dozen feet, he found the bank. It was low and easy to climb. Low and easy to climb, he felt the soft grass under his feet. From here his progress should be easier. Using the river to give him some direction, he began to walk.
He checked his phone again and found he still had no connection. Seeing that the battery was down to eighteen percent, he decided that he should better hurry. Once he found the street he would just have to walk until he either ran into other people or connected to a network.