Love Songs: The Wrong Note - A Collection of Short Stories

6

The car swerved to miss the young woman who'd stepped into the street, tires squealing, rubber burning. Penn saw the blur as it came barreling towards her, and she lunged out of harm's way.

March's hand jerked, shaving a jagged line of hair clean down to the lady's scalp, at the thunderous sound of breaking glass and metal colliding with an immovable object.

It sounded like the world was ending.

Both the beautician and her customer screamed.

* * *

March knew exactly what she'd done. Knew that Sandy would pitch a fit, but at that moment, she didn't care. Dialing 911, March gave the address.

"The calvary's on their way," she told the customer.

I swear, she thought to herself in the chaotic instant before going outside to witness Armageddon, I would laugh at that skinned scalp, if this wasn't such a horrendous moment.

Both ladies ventured outside onto the sidewalk.

It was worse than March had thought, worse yet than her worst fears.

March ran to the driver's side of the car. The light pole was crushing the driver's chest.

"Oh, god," she repeated over.

Where was the calvary? She looked up and down the street.

Not a firetruck, squad car, or ambulance in sight.

She leaned into the wreckage, placed her face close to his, and tried to see if he was still breathing.

He was.

Faintly.

There was blood everywhere. It was impossible to know how many wounds he had or even what sites he was bleeding from.

She started to pull her head from the wreckage, but a bloody claw grabbed her around the neck.

Her first reaction was to shriek and lurch away, but maybe he was trying to tell her something.

"Jericho," the man whispered.

When she moved in incrementally closer, he pulled her mouth to his.