The Dragon's Daughter

Chapter 7

Saturday 10:30 a.m.

We drove along under a canopy of oak trees toward my house, and I was lulled like a child in a rocking chair, cradled in the pleather of the driver's seat, warmed by the late morning sun. I loved living on our little island. To be so small, it was a place of contradictions and wonder to me. Shrimp boats by the river. White sand by the ocean. And wild Florida in the interior. I felt comfortable here. Free.

The air conditioning blew cool air through my hair, and Jess, who had leaned her seat back and propped her feet up on the dash, made an "ooof" sound and threw herself forward to turn up the volume when Tom Petty started singing "Wildflowers". I could swear my soul was smiling.

Never in a billion years was I expecting to see the vehicle that came barreling towards us. I watched in seeming slow motion as it veered into our lane, swerved out, then back in again.

I had enough time to formulate the thought, "Is that guy drunk?" before jerking the wheel away from the shiny black Porsche that looked so much like a giant bullet aimed right at us. "Shitty-Shit. Shit." I thought again, but all that came out of my mouth was an undignified scream as I plowed into the bushes to the right of us. The Porsche executed a 360 spin. Maybe more than one. I wasn't sure since I was staring at the bright green leaves of some un-named wild scrub-brush by that point, but I heard the screeching of tires, and low and behold, a few feet down from me, it too had found its way off the road. But its shiny chrome bumper had mowed down smaller saplings, bowing them forward as if they were now in filial supplication to their forefathers further on in the wooded thicket. Somewhere ahead of me, a rabbit jumped. A snake skittered. People came to Florida for our beaches, but the oceans here were not tame, and neither were the wildlands surrounding them. No matter how encroached upon, the scruffy little wild patches remained, resilient to the careless foot of man. I could see where one sapling had refused to completely submit to the Porsche's onslaught and, as a result, it stood tilted but cocky. One tire of the sporty little car was off the ground, having ridden up its nimble trunk like a ramp. The Porsche was sitting at an odd angle, balanced on the axel now, its tire flat but flying. Its headlight smashed, fender and side panel crumpled.

I was just sitting there gawping at the entire scene like an idiot, panting with adrenalin and confusion in equal measure. But Jess, who had rolled to the side and face planted against the window, pushed herself off with a "What in the mother-loving merciful crap?"

"Are you OK?" I managed.

"Do I look OK to you?"

She looked pissed. That was for sure. "Actually, yeah," I replied after giving her a once over.

"I mean emotionally!" she huffed. "Where is my other slipper?" She began to scour the floorboards. I looked back and spotted a puff of pink.

"It flew back there." I nodded helpfully to the back passenger floor. "I'll get it."

"You do that," she muttered. In fact, she was still muttering things as I opened my door and walked around my Ford to reach the rear passenger door. I'm glad I didn't hear whatever it was. When I opened the door, I managed to catch, "and you need to go back to driving school is what you need to do..."

"Here's your slipper." I interrupted her tirade by dropping the slipper in her lap.. Alright, maybe it was on her head.

"Girl!" she screeched.

"I need to check on the other driver."

"The other driver can go to..."

I shut the door with a sigh. Jess had reached her limit. It meant anybody and everybody was going to have it. It wasn't my fault the guy in the Porsche couldn't stay in his lane. I did the best defensive driving I could possibly do. It wasn't like I was trained for some rando to come at me. Still, the smaller car took the worst of it. I hoped the driver was alright.