Car Crash

The front of Kennedys car was crumpled like a crushed soda can,

the below below-freezing wind was already blowing through the cracks

in the shattered windshield and snowflakes were trying to squeeze in

too, there was blood on the airbag and on Kennedys face; and if help

didnt come soon, it would be too late for help to do anything.

She hadnt even seen it coming. She was driving along

somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Idaho, about 30 thirty minutes

past a green city sign that reported No Services and 45 forty-five

minutes from a blue rest area sign that warned Next Rest Area 70

miles. It was just after 1 A.M. Thursday morning, in the middle of a

snow flurry. She was going home to surprise her parents.

She had been humming to the Coldplay song filtering through

her speakers and thinking about this big case she just got at work. It

was a tough one and she needed to do a good job. She reached over to

adjust the volume, and then she hit the ice.

And she started to slide.

She turned her wheel, opposite, just like her dad had taught her.

She pumped her brakes, resisting the overwhelming urge to slam them

because the cement barrier was getting closer, closer in her headlights

untildarkness.

When Kennedy finally came to, she was vaguely aware that her

head hurt and her whole body was going numb with cold. Breathing
hurt, too. Shivers were already rattling her body and drawing her

awareness to sharp pains elsewhere. Bones were surely broken.

Crash. Her mind processed. Hurt. Need help. 911. But her phone

was dead. The battery was temperamental in the cold, something

shed been meaning to fix.

Slowly, she sat up, shoving down the nausea that rose in her

stomach and focusing through the fuzzies that clouded her vision.

Maybe the car would start, she thought. It didnt. Kennedy swore, fell

back into her chair, and swore again because that hurt.

Her options were limited. Her body hurt so badly she didnt think

she could walk very far. Besides, shed get hypothermia before she

walked half a mile. All she could do was try to stay warm and calm.

And shed pray that someone would drive by some. Maybe a hunky,

chiseled off-duty EMT would save her. Maybe.

In the dark, she found a sweatshirt and parka shed discarded in

the passenger seat earlierwhen the heater worked. Trying to move as

little as possible, she reached into the backseat and found a blanket

her mom gave her for Christmas.

She had energy only to drape the clothes and blanket over her

body. With nothing left to do, she shut her eyes. The adrenaline was

dying downfastand the reality of the situation was setting inalso

fast.
 I might die here, she thought. The first tears finally came. She

thought about her parents. I should have waited. For the storm to pass.

For the morning. The tears flowed more freely.

As often happens when one thinks one may die, Kennedy started

to reflect on her life. On the things she had wanted to do, places shed

wanted to visit. Kennedy had been described by many professors and

mentors as a a hard-charger with great potential for success. She

breezed through college, graduated first in her class at law school, and

landed a job in a big name firm by 25twenty-five. She had wanted to

go to Venice. And get married. And eventually have kids. She probably

should have visited her parents more often and maybe called her

brother, Ben.

But now, she was going to die. Her boss had even offered her a

week for a reaction. She declined, she had to prove herself, and she

took the case. That stupid case.

Im going to die. And Ive never been to Venice.

Nothing quite like a car crash to make oneself question ones life

ambitions.

The wind screamed around her car and Kennedy felt herself

fading. If I somehow survive, Im going to Venice, she thought. And Ill

call Bensee how hes doing. If I survive.

 Kennedy was about to let the darkness finally take over when

she saw a faint glow at the back of her eyelids. It grew brighter and

brighter until it was a steady reddish-orange glow.

This is it, she thought. Suddenly she was hit with a cold blast of

wind as her car door was yanked open.

Hey! A masculine voice pulled her away from the darkness.

Hey!

Kennedy let her eyes crack open. His silhouette was illuminated

by headlights that hurt her eyes.

Heaven, she thought. Or hunky EMT.

But no. Her eyes adjusted. Not a hunky, chiseled off-duty EMT.

No. He was a strange hippie punk with dreads, a tie-dyed shirt, and a

strange smell.

You okay, lady?

Kennedy could barely moan the negative.

He inhaled sharply through hi teeth, making a hissing sound.

Yeah thats some blood there. You need a doctor probably. No worries,

though, no worries. Uh, yeah. He hissed again.

Call. Nine-one-one,911. Kennedy breathed.

Uh, yeah, well ya see, I dont have a phone, he said. Its part

of my process. Completely disconnect from the world and connect with

myself. I had one for a bit. One of those flip phones. For emergencies,
ya know. But it died a while ago and I forgot I had it. I mean,

emergencies like never happen, right?

Kennedy just stared at him, her teeth chattering furiously.

Right. He took a deep breath and shivered. Well, lets get you

into my van.

A van. Instinctively she leaned back as the hippie reach toward

her. Stranger-danger flags waved feebly in Kennedys mind.

Sorry. He retreated and lifted his hands. Im not a creep,

promise. Im Philip. Philip Smith. Just a former college kid traveling the

world, living out of my van. C, couldnt decide what to study, you know.

So. Yeah. Cmon, a hospital shouldnt be too far.

She didnt really have a choice; so she let the hippie, named

Philip, help her stand. Kennedy wobbled as pain shot through her right

leg. Her vision went fuzzy again.

Whoa now, whoa. He caught her elbow and pulled her close.

That smell was almost enough to make her gag. Easy lady, easy.

Kennedy Michelson.

Huh? Oh! Oh okay, Kennedy. Thats alright now. They shuffled

forward a step, but Kennedy couldnt put weight on her leg. She

wobbled again. And then threw up.

Hmm, yeah, thats not great, Philip said. But its okay. Ive

puke on the side of the road too. Lots of times. Happens to the best of
us. He laughed, almost a choke. Then he scooped Kennedy up in his

scrawny but surprisingly strong arms. Pardon me. Just faster.

He carried her to his van, rested her weight on his knee as he

popped the back of his van open, and gently transferred her to a

mattress in his trunk.

And this is how I die, Kennedy thought in her foggy, hazing state.

Not from hypothermia, or a concussion, but in the back of a hippies

van. She shut her eyes.

Lucky for you Ive got a bed back here! Philip said proudly. Its

cheaper than a hotel of course. Oh, sorry about that. He shoved a pair

of boxers and a plastic plate away from Kennedys head. Huh. Wait.

Idea! Philip produced a T-shirt from the other side of the bed and

sniffed it. I think this one is clean. He tied it awkwardly around

Kennedys head. For the bleeding, I think. The pain was so strong it

was all she could do to not vomit again.

Here. He eased a pillow under Kennedys head. It had that

weird smell, too. He pulled a soft blanket up to her chin. Well get you

some help, dont you worry. He put his hand on her cheek. Dont you

worry, he whispered once more.

Kennedy heard the trunk door slam, the front door open, and

slam. The van rumbled and rolled forward, causing her to roll forward

toono seatbelts on the mattress. She moaned. Philip quickly

apologized and accelerated onto the freeway.

 Now, he started talking again and Kennedy moaned. She

wanted to go back to that darkness and she wanted him to shut up. I

dont wan you to die on me back there. Sorry, maybe I shouldnt say

that word in case. Anyway. So stay awake. Stay with me.

He took a deep breath. Ill just talk. Keep you up.

And he did. Kennedy faded in and out of the conversation as he

rattled about his adventuresthe places hed been, the people he met,

the things hed done. About how he planned to call it a night, but

wasnt it great he drove a little further.

You still up, Kennedy? Philip asked.

Kennedy moaned.

Good. Stay with me now. Traveled much?

She mumbled a negative.

Oh. Well, you should.

Venice. If I survive, Venice.

Kennedy felt herself fading again as she heard Philip say

something about a city.

Stay with me.

Philip pulled into the Ambulances Only lane in front of the ER.

Kennedy was lifted her from the mattress and transferred to a gurney

that smelled like rubbing alcohol and antisepticsas sharp contrast

from Philips. She was hooked up to wires and tubes and shoved down

a blinding white hallway echoing with beep, beep, beep.

 She made it. She would live. Shed see her parents. Shed call

Ben. Shed go to Venice.

She could let herself fade as, the drugs were starting to take

effectaffect.

In her fuzzy vision, she could see Philip in the doorway. He gave

her a goodbye wave; and she let the blackness win.