David shot upright in bed and seized the walkie talkie, yanked up the antenna and grasped it tightly in both hands.

"Max? Hello? Are you okay? Max? What's happened? Over."

All he heard was crackling, then a quiet voice, almost a whisper, almost a crackling sob, filtered through the speaker.

"David?"

David leapt out of bed and started pulling on a jacket over her his pyjamas.

"Yes, Max, I'm here, I'm here, what is it? What can I do? Over."

Crackling silence.

"Max? Are you there? Over."

"Help." Max's voice broke in half.

David was grabbing his keys and shoving his feet into his shoes before Max even finished speaking, holding the walkie talkie like a lifeline.

"I'm coming, Max, I'm coming. Where are you? Are you hurt? Over."

Another pain staking pause, then,

"I-I'm sorry, David-" a rasping breath- "I ...oh fuck... just help me..."

"Keep talking to me, Max," David just about shouted down the speaker. "Keep talking, I'm getting in my car right now. Can you tell me where you are? Over."

"...Outside..."

"Outside? Outside where? Outside your house?" David put the walkie talkie on his dash board and pulled out of the drive way. "I can help you, I'm coming to get you, but you have tell me where you are. Over."

"Outside my house," came the ragged response. "Shit..."

"Max?" David's heart was pummeling his rib cage. He sped along the road at a dangerous speed. "Max, are you hurt? Over."

"Just... hurry," he heard, and then the walkie talkie cut out and David's heart nearly stopped altogether.

"Max? Max! Talk to me!" He cried, terror struck. "Max! Are you still there?"

Nothing.

David took a deep breath to steady himself, and then he really put his foot down.