In Case of Emergency

1.

I don't speak to them. At first, I'm too high on pain and bliss to mumble more than nonsense. When my shoulder is back in its place and my legs aren't crooked and my head stops bleeding, I'd rather sit still on the side of the highway and listen.

The woman with curly hair speaks to herself. "Maybe I used too much." Her voice is sharp, yet laced with her nerves, much like her hands.

The slight man with the shoulder holster scoffs. "And why would you do that? You know we need to save." He's curt and has no accent.

"Well, Bronte, he's not exactly a greyhound."

"Now we'll need to stop for more in the next town."

"Worst thing that can happen, he's doped for the rest of the day."

The curt man clicks his tongue. He too knows that it's far from the worst thing that can happen to me out here. "We need to get out of here."

"Not without him. We kinda ran him over, we owe it to him."

"You ran him over."

"Bronte."

"We don't know if the nearest town is safe."

"Bronte."

"And we only have supplies for five days."

"Four days for five people, more than enough time to stop for a quick refill."

Another woman's voice chimes in from inside the car I rest against. "I can drive if he comes with us. Really, have some humanity, Bronte." Her voice is thick with the breath of a singer.

The one called Bronte frowns, about to open his mouth to retort.

Then a child's voice. "Can he play Mario Kart with me?" And with the resigned shrug from the man, I think the decision is sealed.