The Last One Home

Part 10

It didn't take long for the biting November air to force all of the warmth out of the ruined car. The heater had not survived the impact and whatever remained of the windows was insufficient to contain any heat.

Max's eyes slowly opened. It took a few seconds for the black dots to stop dancing in front of his face. He had an incredible sensation of heaviness. As if he weighed five hundred pounds. His seatbelt was a cold steel band across his legs.

His head and chest ached. The occasional gust of wind blew fresh snow over his skinned cheeks.

The accident happened so fast it was taking a few seconds for his brain to catch up with the rest of him. He tested his arms and legs and was almost sure he had escaped permanent damage. It took several tries, but he was finally able to locate his seat belt release. Bracing his left arm against the torn roof of the car, he depressed the button and tumbled out of his seat onto the aging headliner. Laying flat, Max shimmied towards the bent opening that had previously housed the passenger side rear window. (all of the windows forward of the B post were too mangled to be of any use.) Brushing away the few remaining shards of safety glass, Max began to pull himself head first through the window frame. Fearing that he would snag something he sucked in his stomach to make himself as small as possible. He pictured a large shard of glass getting ahold of the soft skin of his belly and spilling his entrails in steaming heap in the snow. With one last push he was completely clear of the car.

It was eerily quiet on the snow covered embankment. The biting wind reminded him that most of the skin on his scalp was scraped raw. He could hear the tick of the still-warm engine. A faint aroma of gasoline wafted through the air. His car did not fare well on its ill fated tumble off of the road. The roof had almost completely caved in as if a giant shoe had come out of the sky and crushed the car like a discarded tin can. Bits of glass and plastic littered the fresh snow. One headlight stared accusingly at him. The other hung by a wire, free from its mount. The left turn signal blinked lazily with a soft click. He couldn't believe he didn't have a major head injury. Thank God he had been wearing his seatbelt.

Peering up at the road, he thought he saw headlights approaching. Were they slowing down? No, the car passed at a slow but steady speed and was soon out of sight. Max hung his head and prepared for his hike back up the hill. About halfway up, he remembered that he had forgotten something. He muttered a curse and returned to the car, being careful not to slip down the hill. He reached through the window to the still closed center console. When he opened it, the contents fell out with a heavy thud. He brushed away the change and wadded up receipts and picked up the gun. Making sure the safety was still on, he tucked it into his waistband and continued up the hill towards the road.

The wind began to howl as the storm intensified. Max could hardly see as he squinted into the driving flakes. Several times he slipped in his tennis shoes, finally losing his footing enough that he sank a knee into the frigid powder. He finally emerged at the roadside cold and wet. He looked up and down the road.

Nothing.

Not a single vehicle approached from either direction. He leaned against the guardrail that failed to keep his car on the road. The entire length of the structure was tattooed with scrapes and gray paint. Evidence of a battle brought on by the storm.

From his perch at the edge of the road he could see his overturned car. He doubted it would be visible at all to a passing vehicle. Especially if the driver is keeping a careful eye on the road ahead. Should he stand up here and flag someone down? If they do stop, then what? Or should he attempt to hike down the road to the next house? How far would that be?

The cold was brutal but far from deadly. This was a wet November snowstorm. At nearly thirty degrees it was practically balmy compared to the frigid blasts of January and February. He risked physical exhaustion more than serious frostbite.

He pictured his sister, obviously terrified. Would she wonder where he was? What about his mother? Was she in danger too? Dark thoughts collided in his brain. He had come this far. He wasnt going to let his family down. He had to figure out a way to keep going.

Just as he was about to turn and begin to walk, he saw headlights in the distance. Just two tiny dots penetrating the snowfall. They were still far away and not moving very fast, but Max still had hope. He prayed that they would continue his direction and not turn down a side road before reaching him. Finally the car was close enough that he could make out a make and model. He was pretty sure it was a ford sedan. Max rose up onto his tiptoes and waved his arms frantically at the approaching car. He could see brake lights illuminating the snow behind the car. They were slowing down. Max let out the breath he had been holding as the car stopped short of him. The snow lit up amber in rhythm to the flashing hazard lights. A young woman's voice could be heard through the open window.

"Are you allright?"

"Having a little bit of car trouble." He said with a chuckle as he approached her window.

The woman squinted through the windshield, a confused look on her face. She was pretty with short dark hair and wide blue eyes. Max figured she was probably in her early thirties.

"My car is actually at the bottom of the hill." He said looking over his shoulder. Her mouth hung open in surprise. Her eyes locked on his and there was genuine concern in her voice.

"You're not injured are you?"

"Just a few bumps and bruises."

"Have you--have you called anyone?"

He shook his head. "My phone was dead before the accident."

"Here, use mine." She held out her cell phone to him. Unmoving, he stared at her phone. Before he even realized what he was saying, he blurted out, "I need your car."

She recoiled immediately, drawing back from the open window. She stared in shocked silence for several long seconds. Quietly she said,"Listen, I really want to help you but I can't just give you my car...."

He began to grow impatient. He could feel his pulse pounding in the back of his head. His family needed him and precious time was being wasted.

"Listen, It's a long story, but i got a message from my sister tonight. I think she and my mother might be in danger." "I need to get home to them and to do that I need your car!"

"I'll call someone for you, but I am not giving you my car!" Her eyes now had a wild light in them. Her teeth pulled back into a grimace. 

Max grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. Her face was a picture of surprise. Her phone tumbled to the floorboard. She turned her body to kick at him, but it was no use. With one strong heave he clutched her ankles and drug the screaming woman out of the car.