Malibu Love Story: A Novella

Chapter 2: Call Me Duncan

Reed looked in horror as the man on the bike came out of nowhere and just appeared in front of her car. He had only one hand on the handlebars, and seemed to be waving toward someone on the other side of the highway.

She mashed the brakes as hard as she could as she leaned on her horn, knowing neither action would do any good, that she was going to hit him, she was going to mow him down, she was going to run over him, oh my god.

Her little car Rhonda did her best to avoid the crazy man on the bike, but her best wasn't enough, not by a long shot, and her front right fender made contact with his bike and sent both man and bike flying in a horrible screeching of tires.

Then the airbag deployed, and Reed knew no more for a few, blissful seconds.

She came back to the world to hear someone shouting, "Dude! Dude, you okay? Help is on the way, okay, man? Lemme go check on the lady!"

Then there were two or three people gathered around her shattered driver's side window, asking if she was okay. She tried to answer them, but nothing came out, so she just remained as she was, buoyed by the synthetic fabric of the airbag, graying in and out of consciousness.

The next real awareness she had was of being strapped down on a gurney and of closing her eyes against the bright, outside sunlight. She tried to shield her face, but found she couldn't move her arms, so she tried to turn her head, but realized she couldn't do that either.

She felt a pin prick on her arm and her consciousness winked out like a weak light.

"Ms. Halliwell? Ms. Halliwell? Do you know where you are? Do you know what happened?" Someone was shining a bright light in her eyes, and she closed them in annoyance.

"I must be in a hospital," she said. "I was on Highway One, and a guy on a bike came out of nowhere, and I hit him, right?"

"That's right, very good. Is there someone we can call for you? You don't have anyone listed in your phone."

Part of her plan to make a clean break from Oklahoma and everyone there had been to wipe her phone when she moved to LA. Email contact only.

She shook her head slightly. "I'm an orphan," she explained. "I moved here from Florida, I don't know anyone. It's okay."

She pretended to be semiconscious for the rest of the exam so she wouldn't have to talk or answer any more questions. Eventually, they finished messing with her and left her alone. She could feel that her right ankle was bandaged, and she had an IV going into her hand. After a bit, she actually did fall asleep, in between wondering how the guy on the bike was, and wondering how she was going to pay to get Rhonda repaired.

****************

"You have a minor concussion, a sprained knee, and some cuts and bruises," the doctor told Duncan. "You're an incredibly lucky young man."

"I suppose that's one way to look at it," Duncan said wryly, looking at the compression bandage on his knee and the various stitches and abrasions on his body.

"You were hit by an automobile going at high velocity while on a bicycle and thrown nearly twenty yards into a mountainside, and this is all you have to show for it, I'd call it damned near providential," the doctor retorted. 

Next to him, Fritz nodded. "You should be dead, man, or at least in traction or something."

"How's the woman? Ms. Halliwell?" Duncan asked.

"I can't discuss other patients with you, I'm sorry, but you'll be discharged in a few hours, while she's been admitted for the night, so you could probably go and visit her if you wanted," the doctor suggested.