Emergency services were already at the roadside where a sizable crowd gathered.
Shoppers, dog walkers, and the generally nosey joined the rubberneckers.
Terry, eyes puffy, face red and streaked tears, tried to see his friend but the police ordered him to step back.
Karyn, with all the determination only a mother could muster, forced her way through undeterred.
She watched the paramedics lifting the gurney. Discarded dressings and gloves left in their wake while the police taped off the incident scene.
She wondered, dimly if the police had another word for road accident.
Small jagged pieces of glass glinted like ice in the sunlight. Blood, pooling in the gutter carried with it smaller amber coloured glass and gauze.
"My son! That's my son!"
Karyn rushed over to the ambulance, she reached it just as the doors were closing.
"Let me see him," she said. Without waiting she climbed into the back of the vehicle.
"Please miss, sit down," a paramedic said.
A jolt then the ambulance pulled away from the roadside.
She sat, and looked at her boy.
Davey lay unmoving. He looked like a version of her child, a swollen, pale, bloody, battered and bruised version.
Dear God, he's barely breathing, she thought.
Terry watched as the ambulance disappeared from view, wiped his face with his sleeve and left for home.