by P. J. Post
I take a deep, painful breath and try to focus.
Todd’s going to die if I don’t do something. I’m all he has.
I look around at the scene of the crash. It was an old faded, mint green pickup that hit us. It’s leaning drunkenly on its side behind the Nova. The windshield is cracked, with a huge gash erupting over the steering wheel.
As I limp back to the road, I see the driver, an older guy, probably someone’s grandpa. He must have flown through the windshield. I know he’s dead. He’s crumpled all wrong.
I look up and down the road. I wasn’t paying attention before and I’m not sure how far back the last house is. I turn around and start running south, searching for lights.
Every breath hurts. Every time my feet hit the ground, the pain cuts through me like a knife, shooting up my leg and along my side and exploding through my shoulder and then back down. And then my other foot hits the ground.
I begin to doubt myself. I’m not sure I can do this. But Todd needs me, I’ll suffer later. Right now I have to get to a phone.
So I take another step and then another, jogging as fast as the pain will allow.
But I fall into a shuffling walk sooner than I want. Other pains are calling out to me as the adrenaline begins to fade. My shoulder, my right arm and other cuts and bruises are throbbing, but nothing compares to my ribs.
I stop and look back. I’m not sure how far I’ve come, but I can’t see the headlights anymore. I look up and see a menagerie of stars in the inky darkness of the countryside.
I lean over, panting, holding my side. I feel my vision narrowing. I look back at the road and the hill rising before me. The road begins to shimmer — floating ink spots cloud my vision. Everything collapses inside a tunnel.
I’m going to pass out.
I try to breath deep, but I sense it coming. Todd’s as good as dead if I pass out.
I reach out and make a fist and punch myself in the side as hard as I dare.
The pain is beyond excruciating, but I feel the jolt of adrenaline as my vision clears.
Fuck.
I grit my teeth and try to breathe through my nose and push up the hill as fast as I’m able, which is pitifully slow. The hill is like a goddamn mountain and it’s taking forever to reach the top. But as I get close, I see the glow of a light pole emerge above the crest of pavement.
Almost there. I reach down for whatever strength I have left to make the push to the farm house. But when I get to the top of the hill, there is no house.
Shit.
I have to stop again.
Every breath is painful. I have no idea how badly I’ve been injured, but I’m beginning to think it might be much worse than I thought.
In the distance, I see another light and this time there is a house. I see lights on in the windows. But, Jesus Christ, it’s a long way away.
Distance in the country is deceiving, even more so at night. I just focus on putting one foot in front of the other, a shuffling jog.
Just don’t fucking fall.
One foot in front of the other.
I concentrate on the white stripe along the side of the road and finally it begins to fade as the asphalt crumbles. I look up and see a driveway marker and the house just a head. I stop under a light pole once I get to the front yard. I can’t go running up to a country farm house well after dark, I don’t want to get shot on the porch. So I shout instead, screaming for help from the road.
And that hurts too.
After a few minutes, the front door opens and a dog races out into the yard, barking and snarling.
Jesus fuck, can I get a break here?
“Who’s there?” an older man dressed in a bathrobe and rubber knee boots says over the sights of his rifle.
“There’s been an accident, we need an ambulance. Please, we need help.” I hear the pleading desperation in my voice.
The dog is standing at the edge of the lawn, ready to pounce. I’m too scared for Todd to be afraid of a dog.
“Call your dog off before I fucking kill it.” This is a lie. I’m barely standing as it is, much less able to take on a German Shepard. “My friend is bleeding to death back up the road, please, I need a phone.”
The farmer calls his dog back and lowers his rifle while he flips on a flashlight. When he gets close, the flashlight reveals the blood and he looks back down the road.
“What is it?” a woman wearing a matching house coat shouts from the porch.
“An accident, go call the police and an ambulance. Down toward the Jenkins’ place,” he shouts as he rushes back into the house.
He returns with the keys to his own pickup and motions for me to get in and we race back down the road.
Even with him pushing the gas pedal flat on the floor, it takes us far too long to get back. I must have run close to two miles. I went the wrong way.
“Jesus, kid,” he says as the accident comes into view.
The car is barely stopped before I jump out, ignoring the throbbing pain and run back over to Todd. He’s still out.
The farmer joins me carrying a first aid kit.
“Where’s the other driver?” he asks.
“Dead, back over there,” I say pointing.
He runs around the Nova, but returns quickly.
“Get out of the way,” he commands and I do as he says.
Time stands still while he works on Todd. I hope he knows what he’s doing. I’m getting light headed again and exhaustion is settling over me like a shroud.
I fumble around and finally manage to light a cigarette, the first of many while we wait.
And then I hear sirens, finally, fucking sirens.
They come from both directions and soon the area is awash in flashing red, blue and yellow lights, paramedics and police are everywhere.
I watch them pull Todd from the wreckage and begin to cut away his overalls as they push me into an ambulance.
“Shit,” I hear one of the paramedics say as they cut my own shirt away. “How far did you run for help?”
I glance down, an ugly black and purple bruise covers most of my right side, from hip to shoulder.
“What? Fuck, a long way. Is Todd alive?”
“Your friend? Yeah, he’s going to be fine, but don’t worry about him, let’s get you fixed up, okay?”
I look out the back of the ambulance. Todd doesn’t look fine, he looks limp. He looks dead.
“Look at this,” I hear a paramedic say in surprise from behind me. It’s a woman’s voice.
“Jesus,” the other says.
They’re looking at the scars on my back.
I scream in frustration. Why am I okay?
It’s not fucking fair. He can’t be dead, he just fucking can’t!
They take Todd’s body and place it into another ambulance. I’m reaching out to him as they close the doors to my own ambulance.
§§§§§
I never lose consciousness through the ride and give them Todd’s parent’s phone number as soon as we start moving. At the hospital, I spend a half-hour explaining that I don’t have any family before they go to work on me. They pop my shoulder back into its socket, sliding my arm into a sling and it takes a total of seventy stitches to close up all of my wounds.
I hear the nurses talking about the scars on my back, but I ignore them. I remember the paramedics commenting under their breath too, just like those parents in the waiting rooms when I was a kid. But I could give a shit about a stranger’s opinion on that score.
Not anymore.
But the most painful thing I endure, much worse than I remember as a kid, is when they compress and wrap my cracked and broken ribs.
That’s when I pass out.
12
ICU
I wake up to a throbbing pain that begins in my chest and radiates out from there. It takes me a few minutes to reorient myself. I remember that, although I looked pretty bad when I came in, apart from my ribs, my other injuries are mostly a lot of deep cuts and brui
ses. The pain is much less severe than it was last night.
Last night? I don’t even know what fucking day it is, much less what time it is.
Is Todd already at the morgue, shuttled on over while I’ve been sleeping?
I’m scared shitless.
Everywhere I look is white tile, beeping machines and that sickening, sad antiseptic smell. I’m still in the Emergency Room, hiding behind one of those tragic privacy curtains, probably because they’re going to discharge me as soon as I wake up.
Well, I’m fucking awake.
My clothes are gone and I’m wearing a hospital gown with a light sling for my arm. None of the beeping machines are hooked up to me, so I gingerly sit up and swing my feet over to the edge of the bed. This is going to be unpleasant. I push off the bed and drop to the floor and it hurts every bit as bad as I thought it was going to.
I push the curtain back and walk into the blue and white chaos of the Emergency Room — doctors and nurses running around gurneys and guiding stumbling, screaming patients to the beds and chairs along the walls.
“Hey,” I shout across the room. No one even glances at me.
I shout again at a group of nurses standing by a set of desks near the exit doors.
A young nurse comes over. “Sir, you need to get back in bed,” she says.
“I came in with another guy last night, where is he?”
“I don’t know. I came on this morning. We’ll find out, but you need to get back in bed.” She gently takes my arm and attempts to guide me back behind my curtain.
I pull back and wince. Every breath hurts. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I need my clothes or something to wear.”
“Sir…”
A doctor comes over and interrupts. “I see you had a bad accident last night,” he says while flipping through a clip board. “Feeling better this morning?”
So it is the next morning.
“Look doc, I need to see my friend. He was in the same accident. His name is Todd Clark. I need my clothes or something to wear.”
The doctor looks through his clip board again. “We don’t have a Clark here. Are you sure he came to this hospital?”
“I’m not sure of jack shit, Doc, but I need some clothes and I need my wallet.”
“We’d like to keep you under observation for the rest of the day. Nurse, please assist Mr. Clay back to his bed. We’ll have your family bring a change of clothes.” He turns to leave.
I grab him by his smock and jerk him back around.
“The only family I have was in that car with me last night. I need my fucking shit right the fuck now and I need to know where Todd is! You read me Doc?” I hiss through the pain.
He’s taken aback but acquiesces.
“Get Mr. Clay some scrubs. The discharge papers will be ready soon,” he says to the nurse and then disappears behind the next curtained off tragedy.
“I’ll wait here,” I say to the nurse tersely.
She scowls and heads out of the ER. I have no intention of waiting around to sign anything.
She’s taking forever and I’m losing my patience. I’m about to track down the doctor again when she finally returns with some faded green scrubs.
“Do you need any assistance?” she asks irritably.
“I got it, thanks.”
I step behind the curtain, more for the doctor’s and nurse’s modesty than mine. I shrug out of the sling, jerk off the gown and quickly pull on the scrubs. It’s tough. I should have let her help me.
My shoes are sitting next to my bed.
I squat down and pick them up and then walk out to a chair and put them on. These poor shoes have been to Hell and back, and now they’re covered in mine and Todd’s blood. It takes me ten minutes to get them on. This sucks.
I head for the exit while the nurse shouts to me about the discharge papers. If Todd isn’t here, then he’s either in a room or Intensive Care, or…I don’t want to think about the last alternative.
I stop and turn on her. “Where is Intensive Care?”
“Sir, you need…”
“I need to know where the fuck the ICU is. I’ll come back and sign what the fuck ever you need me to later.”
“The third floor, but…”
I brush the nurse aside, walking as fast as the pain allows past the nursing station and outer offices, until I find the lobby. I hit the up button and begin pacing. I’m holding my arm up. I should have kept the sling.
Where the fuck is the goddamn elevator?
It opens and I push through the people exiting and hit the third floor button over and over. I don’t know for sure if he is even here, but he probably is.
Unless he’s dead.
§§§§§
The elevator doors open and I race into the third floor lobby. I find the ICU sign with an arrow pointing to the right. I keep moving and bust through a pair of doors and then stop and lean against the wall and breath a sigh of relief.
His mom, Estelle, is there in a mismatched pant suit, leaning forward in her chair praying. Carman, his younger sister is sixteen, but she’s nestled into her father’s arms like she’s still a little kid.
She’s wearing a plain t-shirt and jean shorts with flip-flops. Todd’s dad’s name is Sydney and he’s still wearing a bathrobe and his pajamas with a pair of brown dress shoes.
If they’re here, then Todd is okay.
I gingerly kneel down and hold my head in my hands, occasionally looking down the hall. I don’t want to interrupt them. So I wait, watching for the doctors to come out and talk to them.
But Estelle sees me and says something to Carmen. She pulls away from her father and walks over to me and then reaches down and I take her hand. She gently clutches my good arm and guides me back to Todd’s parents.
They both get up and pat my good shoulder.
“We checked on you last night. Praise Jesus, you’re okay.”
Todd’s family must have found religion sometime during the night.
“How is he?” I ask.
Estelle sniffs back tears and Sydney glances back down the hall. “He’s bad, Connor, real bad. He’s still in a coma, but the doctors say he’s stable for now. We just have to wait and see.” He reaches over again and squeezes my shoulder. “You may have saved his life. You gave him a chance. We’ll forever be grateful.”
Carman gives me a soft hug and looks up at me with watery, yet appreciative eyes.
I try to smile. “I had to. Who’s going to take care of me otherwise?” But she said — might have — and that’s not the same thing as saving him. There’s no guarantee he’s going to make it — not yet.
Carman smiles with me.
They’re all being brave and optimistic, but I never learned how to be anything other than realistic. And his condition doesn’t sound very good to me.
“The police didn’t have many details, what happened?” Estelle finally asks.
I take a breath, remembering the accident in slow motion and think about what I should say. In the end, I’m not sure it matters. “We were going down to Norman, out on one of the country roads east of town and some guy in a truck ran a stop sign. He t-boned us. He was an old guy. I think he died in the crash.”
“That’s terrible. He’ll be in our prayers too,” Estelle says with complete forgiveness.
Sydney doesn’t look as forgiving.
“So what do we do now?” I ask.
“We wait,” Sydney says. “We wait and we pray.”
“I don’t know where my wallet or money is, can you loan me ten bucks, please?” I ask Estelle. I feel like a prick, but I’m going to lose it if I don’t have a cigarette soon.
She smiles softly and digs around in her purse and hands me a twenty.
“Thanks, really. Do you want anything? I need to get something to drink,” I say.
They shake their heads.
I turn to leave and then stop. “Where’s Peggy?”
“Who?” Estelle asks.
“P
eggy, Todd’s girlfriend,” I answer.
They look perplexed.
“He didn’t say anything about a girlfriend,” she says.
Carmen grins, like she’s forgetting the circumstances and just acting like a kid sister should. “Todd has a new girlfriend?” And then she frowns, the moment passing.
I thought Todd had introduced her, but I guess I was mistaken.
“Peggy you said, that’s her name? Peggy?” Estelle asks.
I nod.
“She should know, I mean, about Todd. Do you have her number?” she asks with concern.
I don’t want to worry them this with this new problem. “I’ll talk to her. Don’t worry.”
Estelle frowns just like Carmen did; they look so similar. She follows me for a step and then takes my face in her hands, careful of my new stitches. “You’re like one of our own, Connor. Thank you.”
I smile as I squeeze her hands and then head back to the elevator.
I’m worried about Peggy. Either she has no idea where we are or what has happened and she’s worried sick, or she never came home.
I’m afraid of the truth because I think something’s happened to her too.
§§§§§
I walk out of the hospital into oppressive heat. Looking around I see a gas station down and across the street. I shuffle over and buy a pack of smokes, a lighter and a Coke.
I drink half of the soda and then open the pack and light a cigarette.
I need to talk to Peggy, and I should let Beth know what’s going on, Todd was her friend too. I need some clothes and my wallet and stuff, like the key to the Garage, so I’m going to have to deal with the hospital again.
I never thought about dealing with anything like this before. It’s been a week since I was last in an Emergency Room, but I didn’t have to stay over night. And getting a few stitches is a lot different than what’s happening now.
I don’t have insurance and I sure as hell can’t pay my bill. I didn’t pay the last ones. I chain smoke a few cigarettes and finish off my Coke out in front of the gas station.
Having random chance determine whether or not I live or die has sure as shit put some perspective on life.