The Folds

by Clint Townsend

  Brooke, bloodied about the face and head, tried desperately to open her door to jump out as Dale continued his barrage. “Get in the car!” he yelled. “What are ya trying to do? Get yourself killed?” Brooke leaned against the door, raised her left leg, and gave a mighty thrust into Dale’s right side. She struggled to climb over the seat, crying and kicking, as Dale gasped to regain his breath. She collapsed into the floorboard, screaming violently. Her shirt and skirt were ripped and blood dripped from her head and face. Fear and tears filled her swollen red eyes. With the gun still in his hand, Dale stretched his right arm over the seat.

  “Get away from me!” she shrieked as she climbed from the floorboard to the seat, leaning back as far as she could. “Augh! Take me home! I wan’ go home! Momma!” She managed to slightly open the door just as Dale lunged out with his right hand, momentarily taking his eyes off the road.

  “C’mere, you little…” he commanded and accidentally squeezed off a round that struck Brooke in the left side of her chest. Dale stared at her chest in disbelief as bright-red blood began to seep out of the entry wound.

  Brooke, with her eyes opened wide, looked down and brought her right hand up to touch her chest. She slightly pressed her fingers on the blood-soaked wound and raised her head. One single tear trickled down her cheek as she mumbled, “Baby?” She leaned her head to the right against the unlocked and slightly open door.

  Butch was paying for his new shirts and pants at French’s when he took notice of the long line gathered across the street at the comic store. “There a parade or sump’n goin’ on today?” he asked the clerk.

  “Oh, the comic store,” The clerk answered, handing Butch his sack. “They have book signings every once in a while. I think I heard Superman was coming today.”

  “Superman, huh?” Butch grunted. “Maybe I can pick up some good reading material. Thanks.” He smiled, exited the store, and headed back to his apartment, observing the long line of people as he walked.

  As Tommy’s Cadillac approached the intersection where the comic store was located, he could already see the crowd of people through the busy, early Saturday morning traffic.

  “I’d see what was gonna happen a few seconds before it happened,” Danny stated. His friends and father were mesmerized at the brilliance and simplicity of the idea. “And all I’d have to do is one little thing like…buy something at the store and stop a crook, or…talk to someone on the street for a few seconds to keep ’em from walking down an alley so they won’t get mugged…anything for just for like…two or three seconds, just enough time for something to not happen.”

  Dale barreled down the street toward a crowded and busy intersection.

  “Let’s talk to some of these dedicated… Whoa!” Glen Armstrong cried as Dale’s car whisked by, missing him and his cameraman by mere inches.

  Butch watched the near mishap from the sidewalk and lumbered out into the street, hoping to watch the speeding car as it headed toward the busy intersection. Ron and the other couples watched the car race by the newsman on the TV.

  “Whoa! What was that!” Casey hollered as he sat up.

  “Guy almost got it!” Jason commented.

  The cameraman caught a glimpse of Butch as he leaned out into the street. “Hey, there’s Butch!” said John. “What’s he doin’ there?”

  The cameraman ignored Glen and followed the car as it sped toward the intersection.

  As Tommy waited at the intersection for his turn signal, Danny finished his wish for his super power, looking at Tommy as he spoke. “That’s what I’d do, Dad!” Danny declared. “I’d see the future.”

  Tommy smiled and looked past Danny to see Dale’s oncoming car.

  Suddenly realizing he was not watching where he was going, Dale turned to face the front and tensed up at the sight of a car stopped directly and perpendicularly in front of him. He slammed the brakes and turned the steering wheel to his left, thereby making the right rear end swing out. The centrifugal force of the skidding vehicle flung Brooke halfway out of the rear passenger door. Barely alive, she could see the oncoming car and closed her eyes. Dale’s car careened into the right rear corner of Tommy’s Cadillac; Brooke was pinched and killed instantly when the door crushed her chest. Dale’s head struck the seam where the windshield meets the roof as his body hurled against the steering column. Little Billy Williams body was launched through the rear driver-side passenger window and into oncoming traffic. Knocked unconscious, he landed on the asphalt in front of a truck as it was passing through the intersection. The driver, incapable of reacting in time, rolled over his frail, tiny body, killing him instantly. Bobby, Jimmy, and Daryl were tossed about like rag dolls from the force of the impact. Their heads and bodies struck against each other as they flew to the left side of the back seat.

  Tommy and Danny both hit their heads on the frame separating the back and front doors. The left rear end of Tommy’s car swung out into the path of an oncoming bus, headed to the terminal on the next street. Tommy sat squarely in the way of the bus and watched as the driver, unable to stop, delivered the monolith to its target. Although slightly disoriented from the first crash, he still had enough sense to lean as far away from the door as possible before the collision. Tommy’s shoulder was immediately dislocated; his collarbone shattered and tiny shards of glass riddled his neck. The door buckled directly at his side, breaking three ribs with one of them piercing his lung. The door cave-in punched his knee down and backward, tearing away at the ligaments.

  Once more the boys were brutally thrown about the large back seat. Daryl shot through the rear passenger-side window and landed almost completely upright, but was crushed between Tommy’s and Dale’s cars when the rear of Tommy’s car swung back to the right.

  The cameraman captured the entire wreck on tape, live and on the air. Sarah and the parents at home sat quietly for a moment, stunned at the sudden turn of events. The cameraman zoomed in past the front of the bus to Tommy’s car. Sarah screamed, “Tommy? Tommy!” She rushed to the television, crouching on her knees. The camera then focused on the crowd of people and the few who hurriedly crossed the street to help. “Tommy!” Sarah whimpered as both Joey and Monica drew in close, kneeled beside her, and joined hands. Terri gave a mighty scream as the camera again turned and focused on the mangled green Cadillac. Ron instinctively jumped up and dialed the local DPS station… busy signal.

  Butch, with his bags in his hands, ran to the scene, as well as Glen Armstrong and his cameraman.

  Dale groggily raised his head from the steering wheel and felt the blood running down his face. With his wits not yet about him, he leaned over to the floorboard and clumsily grabbed at the cigar box and gun. Rapping at the window and loud, muffled voices called out to him as he gradually regained his senses.

  Dale shoved open his door as helpful onlookers gathered around him, eager to help. Unbalanced, he staggered slightly and waved his gun wildly as he roared at the gathering crowd. “Get away! Get away!” He turned toward the car, looked into the back seat, and saw the crumpled, blood-spattered door and Brooke’s headless body lying in the seat. With his heart and head filing quickly with fear, sorrow, and rage, Dale let loose with a mournful scream as he barged his way through the multitude.

  As he approached the wreck, Butch heard a woman scream. He rushed to the side of an elderly woman who had found Brooke’s head, lying in the curb gutter. He thanked and politely directed the woman away then removed one of his new shirts from his bag, unfolded it, and laid it over the head.

  Glen and the cameraman were fast approaching the intersection when Butch intercepted them. “Get these people away!” he instructed.

  “What?” yelled Glen.

  “I am assuming control and currently have jurisdiction of this scene until local law enforcements arrive. I need your help! I need you to get on that camera and call for any and all emergency personnel who can get here and get here now!” Glen looked at Butch then at the wreck. “Now!” Butch demanded with a
shout.

  Glen jumped and told his cameraman to start broadcasting.

  Ron finally got through to Sgt. Huddleston at the DPS headquarters as Sarah and the other couples ran out to the driveway. Panic stricken, they hastily detached the boats and recklessly unloaded the two off-road vehicles to drive the nine of them into the city.

  Dale darted down the sidewalk then ducked into a hunter’s supply and outdoors showroom. He dashed through to the back door and tore down the alley to the rear entrance of the bus terminal near Butch’s apartment. Butch neared the wreckage and noticed Daryl’s corpse pinched between the rear tire well of Dale’s car and crumpled door of the Cadillac. Tommy, in terrible condition, but semiconscious, groaned quietly and painfully as Butch rushed to his side.

  Tommy turned his head in excruciating pain to look at his son. “Danny?” he whispered, trying to touch his boy. “Danny?” he again called with a gentle nudge of his son’s left shoulder. He began to shake as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Jimmy? Billy?” he cried out.

  Butch looked in the back seat and threw up violently at the sight of Jimmy and Bobby’s bloodied and mangled bodies. Like Tommy, Butch’s tears flowed down his face. He removed his shirt, leaned through the shattered window and into the back seat, and covered their tiny crushed skulls.

  Even as some witnesses started to give their accounts of what happened, Butch gently pushed the people back when he again heard Tommy, “Bobby? Daryl?” Tommy reached up with his right hand to turn the rearview mirror. The sight of the blood-covered back seat, along with Bobby and Jimmy’s bodies twisted about each other, was more than his heart could take. He clenched his eyes tightly and let loose with a heart-wrenching scream of agony and helplessness.

  Dale ran past a homeless man sleeping in the alley, but not before slowing down to steal his hat and throw the blood-tinged cigar box in a dumpster. He glided through one of the doors leading into the bus terminal and quickly wound his way through the mass of travelers to the men’s room. Rushing to the last sink and mirror at the end of the counter, he took a peak under the hat and found a large, gaping cut on his head. He frantically grabbed at a roll of paper towels and dunked a large clump under some hot water to rub off the drying blood. Once done with picking the glass from his scalp and cleaning his face, he cautiously exited the men’s room and proceeded to the long line at the ticket counter. He watched several police cars go racing by the terminal with their lights flashing and sirens blaring, alerting all to their presence.

  Sarah and the four sets of parents sped down the highway. The men in both vehicles used their CBs to ascertain as to which hospital Tommy and their sons were being taken. The lifelong girlfriends wept uncontrollably as they clung to one another, struggling in vain to stay calm.

  Eventually, police, fire, and emergency personnel arrived at the scene and assumed control. Tommy was being extracted from his car when he called out his son’s name. “Danny! Danny!” He watched the EMTs pull Danny’s limp body out of the window. “Danny! Son!” he called, but Danny showed no sign of response.

  Butch, irritated by the flood of news cameras and reporters, hurriedly, but politely, answered all the questions he could before jumping into the ambulance with Tommy for the ride to the hospital.

  Dale removed the bloodied eighty dollars from his pocket to purchase a bus ticket. The bus wasn’t scheduled to leave for another fifteen minutes, but had already begun loading passengers. He briskly walked through the terminal, out to the parking lot, and climbed aboard his bus. Suddenly, two police cars pulled into the terminal. He intensely watched the officers through the windows of the bus as they jumped out of their squad cars and rushed inside. Dale scurried to the end of his bus and opened the bathroom door. Jumping inside, he crammed himself behind the door and into the space above the sink, leaving the light on and the door open. In the stillness of the moment, he could feel and hear his heart racing. Minutes passed, and soon the sound of heavy footsteps resonated on the hard plastic floor. One of the policemen had come on board to inspect the seats. From several feet away the officer looked down the aisle and into the open bathroom. He cautiously crept toward the bathroom, withdrew his gun, and gently nudged the door completely open with his foot. The officer observed nothing unusual or out of the ordinary, holstered his firearm, and walked out, closing the door of the bus behind him. Dale sat on the bathroom vanity breathing heavily.

  The Jeep and Jimmy came to a screeching halt in the covered circular drive of the hospital. News crews were already on the scene, just waiting for the nine friends to show up. As they climbed out of their vehicles, a gaggle of flash bulbs and floodlights blinded their eyes while microphones and cameras were shoved in their faces. Sarah was first to reach the ER registration desk. “My name is…” she blurted, trying to catch her breath as Holly approached and took her hand. “My name is Sarah Albright…and I believe my husband and son were brought here.”

  “Mrs. Albright! Yes!” the nurse’s attendant confirmed. “Just a moment please.” The attendant picked up the phone and tried to quietly say, “They’re here…right now.” After a moment, she finished with an anxious, “All of them.” The attendant turned back to Sarah when Holly started to speak, “I’m Holly Hall and my—”

  “The doctor will be right with you,” the nurse interrupted politely but free of emotion. “We have a room over there you all can wait in.” She pointed as she resumed her paperwork.

  Sarah and the others forced their way to the waiting room, still bombarded by the reporters. John and Casey, the shortest tempered of the five men, approached the gaggle, showed their badges, and loudly shouted, “This is official DPS business! Leave these families alone!”

  The bulbs kept flashing until John, almost face-to-face with one particular reporter, yelled a very convincing, “Move! Now!” With that, the crowd gradually fell back, leaving the nine to themselves.

  Dale snuck to his seat from the bathroom once the bus was moving. From high in his seat, he peered through the window while the coach passed the scene of carnage. A knot tightened in the pit of his stomach at the sight of the blood on the asphalt and the spraying of blood on the inside of Brooke’s and Tommy’s cars. The bus eventually made its way down the street, passing by the downtown shops and businesses, the suburban schools, and finally the feed lots and factories on the edge of town, delivering all to where they wanted to be: anywhere and out.

  Sarah and the other couples sat impatiently in the waiting room.

  “What’s taking so long!” Jason complained, loud enough for the nurse to hear and jump on the phone once more.

  Ron leaned his head back against the wall while Holly rested on his lap, her head lying on his shoulder.

  “Remember the day we brought him home from the hospital?” Holly wearily asked.

  “Sure do!” Ron said, trying to grin. “He was so small.”

  The conversation was being repeated on the other side of the room between Casey and Terri.

  “I looked down at his face,” she reminded Casey as he stroked her hair. “Just moments before he was in me…a part of me…then all of a sudden…he’s looking at me…with these big…beautiful…blue…” She stopped, breaking down into tears once more.

  Suddenly, the double doors of the emergency room opened. Dr. Lee Rankin and Dr. Patrick Artle stood in front of the doors, looked into the waiting room, and called out, “Sarah Albright?” Sarah stood up quickly and walked over to greet the doctors. Joey also stood and escorted her. “My name is Dr. Rankin and this is Dr. Artle,” Lee said as the two men extended their hands to Sarah and Joey.

  “I’m Sarah and this is my friend Joey.”

  “Joey, nice to meet you,” Lee greeted. “Sarah, I need to talk to you for just a moment. If you’ll follow me please?” He opened the doors of the ER and motioned for Sarah to follow him.

  Sarah and Joey hugged and kissed each other, wiped their eyes, then Sarah disappeared into the hallway.

  Sarah had been gone but all of ten secon
ds when Butch emerged from the ER corridor. His clothes were spattered with blood from helping to cover and move bodies, including Brooke’s head. The four sets of despairing parents watched the reporters swarm around him as he entered the foyer. Dr. Artle appeared again in front of the double doors leading to the ER and motioned for the octet to come over to the other side of the waiting room, away from prying eyes. As Butch was answering questions, he turned slightly and overheard Dr. Artle as he delivered the dreadful news that all of their sons were dead.

  Horrible screams of anguish filled the room. Monica shut her eyes, clenched her fists to her eyes, and wailed with pain. Jason wrapped his arms around his wife and began to weep with her as she shook and stamped her feet in disbelief. Joey sniffed for a moment then lightly breathed, “Hon?” before fainting and collapsing in John’s arms. Holly and Terri embraced each other as they fell to the floor in a lump.

  Ron walked about the room, building up steam. He shook his head in denial with his hands on his hips, repeating, “No! No!” Casey followed, he himself upset, but still trying to soothe his friend. “My boy’s not dead! He’s not dead! You hear me?” Ron picked up one of the large cushioned armchairs and hurled it across the room through the window. “He’s not dead! Where’s my boy?” Casey struggled to restrain Ron as he kicked over a table. Upon hearing the commotion, Butch hurried from across the room to help. The threesome fell hard to the floor in a pile with Ron on the bottom, still refusing to accept the truth. “He’s not dead! Bring me my boy! Augh! Bobby! Where’s my boy! Augh!”

  Dr. Rankin led Sarah out of the X-ray lab to the CCU. As they walked, he showed her the proofs by holding them up to the lights and explained the injuries Tommy sustained during the wreck. “Is he going to live?” Sarah asked before coming to a stop in front of Tommy’s curtain-enclosed bed. Dr. Rankin pulled back the partition, revealing her banged-up husband. Tommy lay with tubes running in and out of him. His arm and shoulder were already bandaged up and his leg was being put in a cast. His torso had been wrapped tight and on his face were tiny, slightly bloody pockmarks from the shattered glass.