by Jeff Siamon
21
It had stopped raining but the roads were still slick. Connie drove slowly. He was thinking. He always drove slowly when he was thinking. Light on foot when his head was heavy with turmoil.
His dominant thought: There I sit in the back and in the front. On the back seat was the beaker. It was carefully sealed and encased in a foam-lined box.
He thought about the beaker. And the more he thought, the more the scientist in him argued that this whole thing was more voodoo than science. And the more he thought about that, the more be began to believe that the idea of a few cells trying to communicate with him was too farfetched. Even for a sci-fi movie.
He was travelling along the highway that paralleled the river. It wasn’t late ─ a little after nine. While the road wasn’t rush-hour heavy, there was enough traffic to keep his reflexes active. That was good because when he was in one of his drive-through think fests, if the road was empty, he could lose all sense that he was driving.
By the time he passed the highway on-ramp that led to the Memorial Bridge, his thoughts had gone from “This whole thing is too fantastic, maybe I am going crazy” to “Vicky has a nice smile; too bad they hadn’t met before Evie” ending at “I have absolutely no food in the apartment.”
“No food” became the dominant thought.
He turned north on Carlyle and headed to what once had been the downtown of the village before the subway had made it a bedroom community. To the OneStop variety store where he did all his shopping. That’s because they had an extensive frozen food collection of single meals for single people.
Once he made the decision to go from “no food” to “some food,” he returned to the main problem. Perhaps what he should do, after all, was to flush the damn cells down the drain. Start again with ─
The back end of his car suddenly veered towards the sidewalk. He had no warning for the swerve. For what seemed like an explosion in the rear. A clash of metal on metal. It was so unexpected that he had no time to apply the brakes or steer into the skid. In a heartbeat, he was facing in the direction he had just come from. And while his car had spun around. While his brain and his hands and his feet were both startled and desperately trying to react, he saw a full-size SUV race passed him. Saw the car run over a fire hydrant, sending a plume of water into the air, and then continue on until it crashed into the wall of a gas station. Two cars, each going in opposite direction on the road that Connie was on swerved around his car, narrowly hitting him and each other. Neither slowed down to see what had happened, speeding off as if they had caused the accident. After he had managed to apply enough brake to stop, he held on to the steering wheel like it was a life raft. Like if he let go, the car might start careening away.
Everything had happened in a heartbeat. He remained immobile for several more heart beats. The whole time looking out his windshield. Through the gushing mist of what was left of the hydrant. At the rear end of the SUV sticking out of the gas station’s front wall. And as he watched the scene ─ a driver who had been filling up his car was trying to open the SUV’s driver’s door ─ he realized the traffic light for the direction to which he had been going was still green. The SUV had run a red light. Never even bothering to slow down.
His air bag hadn’t gone off so all he had to do to get out of his seat was to release his seat belt. But sudden accidents had a way of freezing your thoughts and judgements. He was breathing hard. His hands gripped the steering wheel. His mind went over what just had happened. Like it was a series of stills. What he felt, what he was feeling now, was familiar. That fear and flight sensation. For even though there didn’t seem to be anything to be afraid of ─ he wasn’t hurt ─ he was afraid to let go of the wheel. To get out of the car. And at the same time, wanting to flee as fast as he could run.
“Are you all right, mister?”
A woman was standing beside his door. He looked at her, slowly turning his head to do so. He wondered if he had the same wild glare in his eyes as she did.
“Are you okay?”
It took him several deep breaths to respond. He began to nod. Slowly at first. Then with more vigor. Still unable to release his hands from the steering wheel. In the meantime, the woman had opened his door.
“Thank god you’re safe. He just went through the light. I saw it. My husband was filling up the car and I had just come out of the station. God, I could’ve been killed! He just went through the light. Never tried to stop. Never tried to slow down.”
“Yeah,” Connie breathed. He got out of the car. His neck hurt, but otherwise, all his limbs seemed to be in working order.
“Dear,” the woman called to her husband across the street at the station. “Is the driver all right?” She turned back to Connie. “I dialed 911 as soon as I could. I wish they’d get here. Just as soon as I could. God, if I had been in the building, I would’ve been ─ Oh, my gosh. Tyler’s still in the car.” With that she ran back to the station.
As Connie walked towards the crashed car, he fell into a fear and flight daze. Not that he wanted to flee. It was just that the leftover shock from what had happened made him nervous. For all he knew, he was right back in the middle of one of his episodes. He had the feeling that something even more dramatic was about to happen.
There were now two men beside the SUV. The woman was leaning into the back seat of her car. He wondered, as he approached them. Wondered the way people do just after an accident. Wondered the usual what-ifs. If he hadn’t needed food, he wouldn’t be here. And if the driver didn’t have insurance, he’d have to pick up the deductible. A mundane thought, to be sure, in the face of a possible tragedy. But right now, his bank account was low.
That’s what he was thinking as he crossed to the station. But on seeing the front end of the car ─ it had been smashed into the front seat ─ he realized there were more important things to consider than his petty what-ifs.
“No, I didn’t see nobody,” the younger of the two men was saying. Both men were looking into what had been the front seats of the SUV.
“Well, he couldn’t’ve just got out and walked away. I was here all the time. I saw the whole thing. No one got out of the car.”
“Then where the fuck is he?”
“Honey, what’s wrong?” the woman asked the older of the two men ─ her husband. She was carrying her son in her arms.
“The driver’s not in the car,” the husband yelled at her even though she was standing a few feet from him.
Connie looked too.
“Did you see anything?” the husband asked Connie.
“See? I don’t know. I saw the car crash.”
“Well, what the hell happened?” he asked Connie. Then turned to the other man. “I mean, there’s no one in the car. There’s no blood in the car. Look at the front end. If you were sitting in that front seat, you weren’t going anywhere. And if you somehow did, you’d sure as hell leave a trail of blood. Or something. Wouldn’t you?”
“I didn’t see nobody get out of the car,” the younger man said. “I was at the other pump. I was loading the receipt tape. Jesus!” His face suddenly became pale when he realized how close to death he had come.
“Are you okay, sir?” the husband asked Connie.
“I guess so” The shock of what had happened, what might have happened began to sink in. And at the same time, there was something else niggling at his shock.
Sirens were approaching. Their syncopated sounds meant that there was more than one vehicle.
“What should we do?” the woman asked.
“Maybe he jumped out of the car before it hit the building,” the younger man said.
“Did you see the driver jump out of the car?” the husband asked Connie.
Connie hadn’t seen anyone. Probably couldn’t’ve remembered if he had. So he shrugged.
A police car and an ambulance arrived. Their sirens died as soon as they had pulled up in front of the gas tanks. But their flashing lights remained, giving the scene the emergency loo
k it deserved.
Then there was a flurry of questions. Police and paramedics questions. One after another. One overlapping the other as if it were a competition: whoever gets out of the most questions in the least amount of time wins. Added to that were radio calls to the police dispatcher and to the fire department (to turn off the hydrant) and more calls when the answers to the officers’ questions didn’t make any sense: “What do you mean there was no one in the car?”
Another cruiser arrived with the inevitable fleet of tow trucks tagging behind. The tow trucks were the road vultures of the city. Listening to the police radio calls and going to the scene of accidents in hopes of snagging a tow. The reporters weren’t much farther behind. But they were looking for bodies rather than wrecked vehicles.
Throughout all this activity and questions from the officers and more questions from the officers, interspersed and followed by quick searches of the area around the gas station for the missing driver ─ which also included expletives by all concerned about how weird (and suspicious) this accident appeared. While this commotion was going on, Connie’s initial sense of after-accident shock went from replaying the crash in his head to an unreasonable sense of worry. Unreasonable because at first, he didn’t know why he should be worried. He was okay and his insurance company was going to pay for his car since the accident hadn’t been his fault. Even if he did have to come up with his deductible. So why worry?
He thought about that ─ why worry ─ while the questioning and searching and news reporters’ probing went on. And that meant that he either didn’t hear the officers’ questions that were being asked of him or if he heard, his answer came after a long silence.
That behavior led the paramedics to insist he go to the hospital. Especially when it seemed he hadn’t even heard their request. It was only because he became aware that the paramedics were about to use some force to get him into the ambulance, that he realized what was happening. He definitely didn’t want to go to the hospital.
He looked at the officer’s suspicious face and heard him say, “Okay Mr. Brinkley, one more time. What exactly do you remember of what happened?” He roused himself out of his thoughtful stupor and answered in a clear voice.
“Sorry, officer. I’m afraid I’m still a little shaken by everything.” That did it. The officer’s face relaxed and he gave Connie a sympathetic smile. “Thanks guys,” Connie said to the paramedics. “I’m really okay. Just shaken up a bit. But thanks for your concern.” That did it also. (Connie could sound quite normal. Like a regular guy. When he wanted to.)
So now there were smiles all around. At least for Connie. Not for the accident. That elicited some severe frowns. A crash without a body. Crazy. The officers and the paramedics had seen a lot. But never this.
Connie gave his story of what happened for the fourth time. As well as his name, address and phone number and walked to his car which was still in the intersection. There were now two more police cruisers on the street. One on either side of his car. Their lights flashing to warn drivers. One of the officers was directing traffic around the accident location.
He stood in front of the dented body panels of his car. The back end and part of the bumper of the car were caved in towards the rear drivers-side wheel well. He examined the damage.
He should call his insurance agent. But he made no move to take out his phone. Niggling was what he was doing. Niggling around the patch of worry in his head. If he had been asked to play Hamlet, this would be the moment when he would have uttered the line that something was rotten in all of this. Fantastic. Unbelievable. Definitely not smelling kosher. A crash without a body? Unlikely.
“Where do you want me to tow you to?”
He hadn’t heard the tow-truck driver’s footsteps coming up to him. Or the officer who was directing traffic shout at him to move his car. His thoughts and the gushing hydrant deadened his sense of hearing. But he heard the driver’s voice. He didn’t want to be towed. Like he didn’t want to go to the hospital. He wanted control. Or at least what he thought was control. This was the same feeling he had when he was fighting for release in one of his episodes.
“Let me see if I can move the car before we talk about towing.”
“She don’t look good to me, buddy. My brother’s got a shop not far from here. He’ll give you or your insurance company a good deal.” He started to walk towards his truck.
“Wait,” Connie called to him.
“Hey! I said, you gotta move that vehicle,” the officer told the driver.
The driver shrugged. A gesture for both the officer and for Connie.
“Wait a minute. Let me try,” Connie told the driver.
He opened the car and was startled when the car yelled at him. The keys were still in the ignition. And the lights were still on.
He sat in the driver’s seat. Waited until a memory flashback of his spin out and the SUV’s crash came and went. And turned the key. The motor cranked over slowly. And that was all. The car didn’t start.
“See,” the driver said after he had opened the car door. Once again, the car complained that the keys were still in the ignition switch. “What did I tell you, buddy? You need to get this thing towed out of here or that cop is going to ticket you.”
Connie wanted control. He turned the key again. Again the engine turned over but wouldn’t start. Then he noticed his lights were still on. He turned them off and tried one more time. The engine whirred and moaned. Like it was complaining but also considering whether to start. And just when Connie was about to give up, the car coughed and then purred into life.
The driver still held the door open. Connie reached for the handle and gave the man a look. As if to say, you lost this one, buddy. He closed the door. Hoped that the wheel wouldn’t bind when he started up. And, putting it into Drive, eased his foot off the brake pedal. The car began to move. Slowly. When he didn’t hear any grating sounds, he sped up. Driving several blocks before he realized he hadn’t turned the headlights back on.
22
All the lights were off in Vicky’s house. It was a few minutes after eleven. That niggle in Connie’s head had worried him after he had driven away from the accident scene. He didn’t want to go home with it. Didn’t want to be alone with it. He needed to talk to someone. To talk that niggle out. Maybe then he could make some sense out of what he was thinking.
He walked on soft feet around the house looking for what seemed like another entrance. That’s what Vicky had told him. He stopped several times when he thought he heard a car going down the road, hiding in the shadows. That’s all he needed now. For someone to think he was trying to break in. That would really go over well with Vicky’s parents. But no cars went by.
He found two side doors to the house. One seemed to go into the garage. He hoped the other one was Vicky’s. He couldn’t see in because the door’s window was covered with a curtain.
He knocked softly. Looked over his shoulder at the street. He knocked again not much louder than softly. If the door led to the home’s kitchen or some back room and one of Vicky’s parents should answer it? Well, he hoped that wouldn’t happen.
He knocked harder. Then listened for any sounds inside. A car did suddenly come down the street. He moved back into the shadows. When it passed. When he came out of the shadows and was in front of the door, he began to feel foolish. Skulking around her house ─ really!
He knocked one more time. This would be the last attempt. It was probably a stupid idea to come here, anyway. She was probably asleep and wouldn’t appreciate being woken up. And besides, it was his niggling. His episodes. He couldn’t expect her to really care or be interested.
There was no sound on the other side of the door. So that was that.
He began to walk back to the street. He had parked a few houses down the block so as not to be conspicuous. He tried to tell himself that the walk, the fresh air was good for him. Maybe that would clear out the niggling. That made him think of Evie. Of their night-time walks to
gether. Ironically, it was she who had trouble sleeping when they had first moved in together. If she only hadn’t been so obtuse, so disinterested in what was happening to him. But she had.
“Connie?”
He heard Vicky’s voice behind him. He had already reached the street and was walking towards his car. Walking in the middle of the road because there were no sidewalks.
“What are you doing here? What’s happened?”
She was in her nightgown ─ an over-size tee-shirt. Barefoot. His last knock had roused her. She had pulled back the door curtains in time to catch a glimpse of his face as he had turned to leave. She would have come out of the house sooner, but the shock she felt seeing him made her hands become frantic as they tried to unbolt and open the door.
She ran to him. “What’s wrong?”
How to explain his niggling. “Maybe we should go inside. You look cold.”
He looked down at her feet. Then slowly raised his head to her face. To the soft outline of her breasts. To her nipples straining against the cloth. He couldn’t ignore her sexuality. She couldn’t either as she realized how she must appear to him.
That awareness made them both turn their heads away from each other. They felt embarrassed. Connie, for both of them. And Vicky, for herself.
“Look. I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll let you get back to bed.”
She stopped him from walking away when she put her hand on his shoulder.
“Come in side. Tell me what happened.” She took his hand and led him down the street to her house.
“How do you know something happened?” The touch of her hand in his felt good. But he tried not to go there as if Evie were looking over his shoulder.
“I have a crystal ball.” She smiled. A smile she had always kept ready for the someone she felt deeply about.
He smiled back, but it was halfhearted. Like he thought he was making a fool of himself showing up like this. He hesitated at her door. In the shadows of the house, even if she was holding on to his hand, his niggling seemed foolish.