As my car plummets through the air, my seatbelt locks in the upright position. My car fortuitously flips and hits the water's surface wheels down and the airbags deploy. My fight-or-flight response is in high gear as I unsnap the seatbelt. Loud gurgling projects from the rear of the car as water seeps into my damaged trunk. The car is afloat for the moment, but I don't have long. I reach for my purse and, to my dismay, all the contents spill onto the floor. I'm grateful I took the journals out the day before, but my wallet slides under the seat. Miraculously, my phone is still attached to its holder on the dashboard, and I throw it in my backpack purse. The murky water is rising, and I assess my best exit route. Sunroof.
In one swift motion, I pop open my glove box and find my revolver and ammo. I load a round, shield my eyes with my left hand and shoot through the sunroof. Shards of glass rain down onto the seat as I rip off the hem of my dress to protect my hands as I hoist myself out of the car. Shoving the revolver in my purse, I precariously perch on the roof of my car, deciding my next move. It's too far to shore as I'm not a strong swimmer, but a footing of the bridge is about 20 yards away. I glance at the bridge and see no cars passing by and no sign of the black truck. Breathing in deep, I dive into the water.
The water is unusually chilly as I mermaid glide through toward the footing. When I surface for air, I am delighted with how close I am to the footing, and after a few powerful strokes, my hands touch the mossy footings. The surface is slick, and I can't get enough grip to rest on the foundation's side for long. The distance between the footings doesn't look too far, and I feel like I can make it to the embankment if I swim tier to tier. Before I can change my mind, I push off to the next nearest tier.
My body glides through the water, but my vision seems to worsen. My right eye is swollen shut and I taste blood in my mouth. C'mon Ali, you can make it. I tier hop for 20 minutes before I reach the stony boundary. Sputtering water and coughing, I heave my worn body upon the rocks at the water's edge. Out of breath and strength, the adrenaline that was fueling me is gone and I can go no further. My hands are bleeding and cracked and every part of my body hurts. Aside from the buzzing of flies and mosquitos, it's silent. Wait, no, where are the sirens?
An uneasy feeling covers me. Crunching rocks above me from the top of the embankment capture my attention. The steps get louder and heavier. With my last ounce of strength, I crane my neck upward and see the outline of a figure in the sun.
"Ma'am! Are you okay?" The figure speaks.
"I need help," I whisper as my head falls back onto the stones of the embankment. The figure scoops me up and carries me.
"Don't you worry." The figure says.
My head is rolling from side to side as we make our way over the rocks and even though we are almost at the top. I still don't hear sirens. With my good eye, I squint at the face of my rescuer. He resembles Idris Elba if Idris Elba also had a medium-length salt and pepper beard. He has on overalls and smells like cedar chests.
"Where are the ambulances?" I mumble.
"There is a truck on fire a few miles up the road and I saw the ambulances there. I turned around to find a different way and saw you climbing the rocks." He spoke.
"Can you call an ambulance for me?" I croak.
He gives me a long look and nods his head. When we reach the top of the embankment, my rescuer tries to stand me up. My right leg gives way and pain shoots up from my shin to my hip. I cry out like a wounded dog.
My rescuer scoops me up and places me in the passenger seat of his car.
"Hospital. Drive, please." I speak. I buckle the seat belt as he takes off.
For the next 25 minutes, I allow a stranger to rush me to the hospital as I briefly study him. He seems focused on the road as his hands grip the steering wheel. His hair is short and coily, and it looks soft. His biceps bulge underneath his plaid shirt. My head hurts, so I close my eyes and try to breathe deep, and cedar mixed with vanilla fills my nostrils. The scent soothes me slightly and I give way to exhaustion.
*****
My left eye burns as I try to open it, and every inch of my body is in agonizing pain. Bandages adorn my head, hands, and forearms, and my right lower leg is in a cast. Thirst hits me like a ton of bricks and I reach for the call button for help. Pressing the call button takes tremendous effort and I'm instantly winded. A short, portly nurse walks in with a smile.
"You are awake!" She exclaims. I point to the cup of water on the side table and lick my lips. She quickly produces a straw and helps me drink. The cool water coats my throat and soothes the raw burning I feel as I try to speak.
No words come out when I open my mouth. I clear my throat and still no words come out, and my anxiety rises as I clutch the sheets of the bed.
"Don't worry if you can't speak now, hun. You came in with some labored breathing and we had to intubate you." She says softly. "The swelling will go down in the next week or so and you will heal."
I nodded my head as my hand went to my abdomen. The nurse watches me.
"The baby is okay, too. I guess you have been keeping that a big secret even from your husband. Don't worry, I didn't tell him just in case you have a special surprise planned." She whispers with a wink.
Brams here? I try to sit up, but the nurse stops me.
"He stepped out to make a phone call but will be right back. I'll give y'all some privacy and I will let him know you are up if I pass him." The nurse says as she leaves the room.
I exhale, grateful I'm okay. The events of the car crash come flooding back to me and I have an epitome. Someone tried to kill me. But why?
I must be getting too close to finding Will, which means whoever is trying to kill me doesn't want him to be found, but the only people who knew I was looking for him were my sisters, Bram, and my grandparents and none of them would protect Will. Then who?
Auntie. She was the only other person who knew I was looking for Will, but I have never understood her history with him. Is that why she apologized to me? Is she betraying me?
As I was sorting through my thoughts, an enormous figure slips into the room and approaches my bed.
"Hello, Ali." That gravelly voice was unmistakable. My mouth went dry, and a shiver went down my spine.
Will, I mouth. The man at the foot of my bed grins.
YOU ARE READING
The Ashes of Marriage
General FictionAlisha Carmike, better known as Ali, is at a crossroads in her life. After surviving a life altering childhood trauma, Ali has been on an emotional spiral, and is controlled by her obsession to find her mother's killer. Can she pull herself together...
