2005-02-28 - 12:12 p.m.
All he could do was hang there, held in place by his seat belt.
The darkness around him was enhanced by the uneven glow of consol lights, which faded and flickered, but never went out. His hand glowed, blue edged by the light of the open cell phone, which sat on the ceiling of the interior of the car. He looked down at the phone wishing he could move his hand the couple of inches to grab it and call his wife, but he had no movement and little feeling.
It was probably better that he had so little feeling; the night was bitter cold and wet. A mild drizzle hissed through the air and drops of rain water, mingled with automotive fluids, dripped from various places around the overturned car and splashed onto the pavement below. Flecks of tainted water misted his face and contrasted with a warm rivulet of what he figured was blood flowing down his neck, over his jaw, along the side of his face to end up pooling somewhere below his head.
The night was deadly silent too. He knew, because every sound he could here was distinct and individually assaulted his ears: a turn signal stuck on, the radiator hissing, a wheel turning ceaselessly, fluids dripping.
And so he hung, cruelly suspended, unable to affect the moment.
In the distance he could see lights again – another car was approaching. Maybe this one would stop and someone would get out and survey the wreckage that sat dead-center in the eastbound lane of the old state highway. There was nothing else of interest for miles for God’s sake and people love to rubberneck, don’t they? Couldn’t they at least stop, just this once and look a little closer?
The lights approached rapidly. There’s no hope of this one stopping either, he thought. The lights grew to an unbearable intensity and then an indistinct blur shot past, all sounds and splash, leaving him to stare at glowing red eyes, mocking him as they disappeared into the distance.
“How long have I been here?” He wondered aloud. Not for the first time, hot tears assaulted his eyes and ran unnaturally into his hair.
Oh god, he recovered quickly as he saw the evidence of lights approaching from behind. I don’t want to go through this again – his mind raced as he braced for the inevitable impact.
The on-coming car sped toward the overturned wreckage, which occupied the same lane, seemingly unaware of its presence. He clenched up internally knowing what was coming and pinched his eyes tightly shut.
The car passed right through the mass of twisted metal like a specter and as it did the bodies of the two drivers met. In that moment a million images passed through his mind – the memories of a life that wasn’t his. He felt and saw birth, life and all the pains and pleasures that accompany it in a split second. As the two bodies parted he was left holding a single thought and feeling, “WHY!? Why did that bastard cheat on me?”
Sobs, not his own, wracked him for a moment before he was able to gain composure and release the ghost of memories that did not belong to him.
How long had he been there? He found himself wondering at the why of it all again, like he had done so many times before. Was this the purgatory that he had learned about as a child and later dismissed as an adult? He had abandoned the idea of heaven and hell and all the trappings that went with a Catholic upbringing for a much more simple approach to life and spirituality: no approach at all.
Now he felt sorry for turning away from those teachings. Maybe if he had decided to remain diligent in his faith he wouldn’t be stuck in this position and might spend this time sitting on an uncomfortable bench with a number in his hand waiting for the prayers of his mother, or someone to get him to the next step. He had lived a good life after all – hadn’t he?
More lights from behind appeared. He usually got a moments more peace at this time of night – why the sudden rush of traffic, he wondered.
Before he was able to prepare the specter was on him, but something was different. He felt himself wrenched forward and he seemed to be stretching like taffy and then all at once…he was looking through panic stricken eyes out the windshield of an orange truck.
*****
JB slammed on the breaks. The truck slid sideways and stuttered to a hopping stop on the warm dry pavement. “What the hell was that!?” A strange sensation had gripped JB’s heart – it felt like a cold arm had slid up his spine and icy fingers pierced his heart, but the feeling was gone now.
JB paused for a moment and then put the truck back into gear and drove off.
