Rain streamed down continuously, pushing the old windshield wipers on my poor car to work furiously against it. Wind bombarded the side of my red truck, trying to tip it over, I was sure. My hands gripped the wheel at ten and two, eyes strictly on the sleek pavement before me. Why I chose to live so far out of the city, I don't know. I was practically begging to be killed out here trying to get to and from work every day.
The freeway was empty except for me; the idiot who just had to drive home in a storm. My best friend, Alice, always warned me that she'd skin me alive if I got myself killed in a car accident. She loved me.
Alice lived with her husband, Jasper, in a small apartment in the city. Chicago was just a stepping stone, I remember her telling me. Alice wanted to travel and see the world, Jasper dependably at her side. They were making plans to tour Asia over the summer. Alice had already been to Brazil and China, but that wasn't enough for her. She really wanted to live.
I was content with Chicago. Intense weather and cute accents was enough adventure for me. I had come to Chicago when I was eighteen and attending college. I majored in business and accounting, taking a smaller English Lit. course to suit my own interests. I was lucky enough to have been able to merge my knowledge to my future job. I was the proud owner of a small bookstore in the city. I had frequent customers and all of the modern, best-selling books. I kept track of stocks and managed the money myself. I had a few employees work for me, but they were teenagers and were always hired and fired around the clock. Not that all of them were bad, but most had moved on to bigger and better things.
No matter. My bookstore was my haven and my baby. I loved my baby.
I had closed early today, trying to beat the storm before I got caught in it on my way home. I was never one for good luck.
My eyes flickered to the radio. I usually had it playing, rather loudly, whenever I was in the car, but I was too afraid to turn it on tonight. My grip on the wheel tightened. No accidents, I told myself sternly. No accidents.
The red tail lights of a car far in front of me came into view. The car was nothing more than a blurry spot against my windshield, but I was glad I wasn't alone on the highway. I let out a silent sigh of relief.
Calming down, I methodically went over a mental checklist I had formulated over the day. I was running low on groceries, and if I wanted to keep myself from starving, I would have to go shopping sometime soon. My apartment, sadly, was a mess that I was not looking forward to cleaning up. Work papers were strewn all over my small dining table, clothes littered the floor in my room, and dishes had piled up in the sink. Alice always nagged me about being as organized at home as I was at the store. She told me if I didn't get my place in ship-shape condition soon, she'd disown me. But that has yet to happen, so I've got my fingers crossed.
The red lights from up ahead were getting bigger; the car was obviously slowing down to accommodate for the weather.
My mom, Renee, had left me a message on my voicemail, and I had yet to call her back. She'd probably have a heart attack if I didn't do that soon. Renee would have more time to call me now that Phil's baseball season was over. The two of them were staying at home this summer in Florida for some down time. Renee was already trying to convince me to go down there and visit her, but I'd used my store as a deterrent to her whining.
The vague outline of the car in front of me was beginning to become more apparent.
I should probably call Charlie while I was at it, just to see what he was up to. My dad wasn't one for lengthy conversations, so that call wouldn't last long at least. He never was one who liked to sit and reminisce. I thought back to my mom and stewed on that conversation for awhile . . .
Yeah, I'd call her tomorrow.
I got braver as the minutes ticked by in my car. My hands loosened on the wheel, and my fingers tapped rhythmically against it. My head bobbed slightly as I sang quietly to myself.
Up ahead, the car driving in front of me started to sway from side to side. My eyes narrowed at the driver, wondering what in the world he was doing? The car kept in the lane, but rode on the lines more often than not.
Was he drunk, I wondered, panicking for a second. I couldn't be driving in the middle of a storm with a drunk driver right in front me!
Without warning, the brake lights flared to life, and the car made a high pitched screeching noise. The car spun sickeningly off to one side, its front now facing me. I watched in wide-eyed horror as the car turned onto its side.
I slammed my brakes, jerking harshly against the seat belt.
The car tumbled off the side of the road, flipping over once, twice, before coming to a landing with its tires in the air. It rocked back and forth, tires spinning slowly in the air.
I couldn't feel my knees and my hands were shaking. I steered my car to the side of the road, quickly unbuckling my seatbelt and tearing out of the car.
Rain pelted my face and shoulders, soaking through my clothes and making my hair stick to my face. I stumbled through the grass to the car, looking for any sign that anyone in the car had gotten out alright.
The lights inside the car were still on, illuminating the ruined interior. The windows had shattered on impact, shards of glass glittered darkly around the wreckage.
Oh my God . . .
I stood there, staring dumbly at the upturned vehicle.
Oh my God . . .
A movement in the front end of the car caught my eye. It continued on, and a bloodied hand reached forward, grabbing for something in front of it.
Right around then some of my common sense kicked in. I rushed over to the car, getting down on my hands and knees, sticking my head through the space where the windows used to be.
"Hello?" I called out above the rain.
The driver had twisted around and was lying on his stomach. His breathing was hard and ragged. Blood coated his arm and part of his shoulder. He was spread out on the roof of his car, his legs stuck up under the dashboard of the car where the gas and brake pedals would have been.
"Sir?" I asked anxiously. I couldn't feel my insides. Oh my God.
Slowly, his head rose. His green eyes locked with mine and my breath hitched. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead and smeared down his cheek. His copper brown hair was a mess and sticking up in every direction. His outstretched arm was muscular with impressive biceps to boot. The rest of his body, even though it was hidden at the moment, must have been at least half as masculine as his arm was.
I can't believe I blushed. He needed a paramedic and I was too busy swooning to get him the proper help.
"Sir, can you get out?"
He was dazed and just seemed to stare at me.
Cautiously, I crawled forward into the car. "Come on," I encouraged him, gently forcing my hands under his shoulders. "We've got to get you out of here."
He was practically limp beneath my hands and I had a terrible time trying to get him to even shift his position.
I gritted my teeth together, barely able to fold my hands together behind his broad shoulders. "Okay," I grunted, "tell me if I hurt you."
I wiggled backwards on my knees, scraping them on the broken glass as I went. The driver clung to me with his bloodied arm. It was wrapped tightly around my waist, and his fingers dug uncomfortably into my hip.
I attempted pulling him back with me, straining to pull his weight after me. He hardly budged and I whined. We were going nowhere.
His right arm reached out and landed palm down beside my knee. His fingers snaked around until they gripped the back of my knee. I froze at the contact, becoming stock still as his hand became tighter around my lower thigh.
"Uhm," I stuttered, not moving.
With a sudden grunt, his arm around my waist tightened and he pulled roughly at my thigh. I almost threw myself onto my back to keep myself upright. My grip around his back slipped and he almost fell flat on his face.
But he had moved. Using me as leverage, he had managed to pull himself farther out of the car.
"Good," I said a little shakily. "Good job."
His breathing was labored and his head hung limply from his neck.
I scooched farther backwards, the rain dropping on the back of my shins and rear-end. I had to to lean forward to keep my arms around him. "Just a little more," I encouraged him. "Just a little farther."
He grunted in acknowledgement, his fingers tightening painfully around my leg again.
After repeating the pull-shimmy-pull-shimmy technique we had created, we finally had him out of the car and drenched in the rain.
Quickly, I flipped him over onto his back, checking to make sure he hadn't hurt himself anymore on the way out. I breathed out a sigh of relief when everything seemed to be in working order.
I leaned over his face, blocking the rain from him. "Sir?"
His lashes fluttered and pulled back slightly to peer up at me. "Sir, can you breathe?" He stared at me for a minute and I started to panic. I opened my mouth to ask him again, but he nodded tiredly, his eyes still on my face.
I sighed with relief. "Oh good. That's good. Do your ribs hurt?"
His answer came quicker this time and he shook his head no.
I nodded, slapping my jean pockets for my cell phone. I tugged it out and flipped it open, dialing nine-one-one.
It rang three times before the dispatcher picked up. "Uhm, yes, I'd like to report an accident. No, I - I just witnessed it. One and he's a little banged up. The five freeway heading south. Where? Umm, just after the . . . uh." I strained my neck around, searching for a traffic sign. "The . . . just before the Chapman Avenue exit. Yes. Bella Swan. Thank you," I told them earnestly before hanging up the phone.
I leaned back over, once again blocking the rain from the driver's face. "The ambulance is on its way," I informed him, the relief nearly tangible in my voice. I brushed at the water droplets on his cheeks, avoiding touching the blood from his small wound. "They'll be here any minute and have you stitched up in no time."
I reached up and smoothed the wet bangs from his face, fussing with them and trying to keep myself busy at the same time. My hands were shaking uncontrollably and my heart felt funny.
"You'll be okay," I reassured him, my voice shaking. "Everything will be fine."
His eye lids were half-hooded, his green eyed gaze still locked tiredly on my face.
"Is there anyone I can call?" I asked him. "Anyone who needs to know where you are? Do you have a cell phone? I can find it, if I need to. Does anything hurt too badly? Do you think anything's broken?"
I trailed off when I noticed his lip curling up into a weak, crooked grin. His palm turned up against my wrist and squeezed gently. "Calm," he instructedly quietly.
The velvet in his voice dazed me for a moment. I shook myself, forcing a short chuckle through my voice box. "Calm. Right."
Of course I was calm. I just saw a car get overturned in front of me, am killing my nerves waiting for an ambulance and am probably going to catch pneumonia from the storm. But no, I was calm. Calm was my middle name. I was born calm. Calm was second nature to me. Being calm was as easy as breathing. Calm-
"You're fidgeting," he murmured, drawing my attention away from my internal rant.
I brought my hands back to my body, letting them hover between us. "I'm sorry," I apologized immediately. "Did I hurt you? I didn't hurt you, did I? Are you okay? Where do you hurt?"
His soft laugh was cut off by his sudden fit of coughing. After he had given me a heart attack and seemed to be just as fine as he could be, he tried to smile again. "Calm," he repeated himself.
I didn't say anything, and for a while, the only noise came from the slapping of water against pavement and the whishing of the wind. The driver closed his eyes, letting his head fall back onto the soaked grass. His hand was still resting against my wrist.
"I own a bookstore." He opened one eye, staring up at me. I turned to stare off down the road, heat pooling in my cheeks. I still felt jittery and I didn't like just sitting here. If he wasn't going to talk, he could listen. If he had his eyes open, at least I knew he was alive. "I opened it up a couple of years ago, a while after I graduated from college. I bought it in town, towards the east side where the mall is." I peeked down at him to find both of his eyes were opened now. I pretended to pick at something on my wet, jean-clad thigh. "I used to live in Arizona. I spent my summers in Washington with my dad, but I haven't been there in a while."
Red and white lights appeared in the distance and my hopes perked up. I looked down at him and smiled. "You know, my dad's a cop. I've never seen him turn on his cruiser lights though. Not ever."
The fire truck was the first rescue vehicle to reach us. An elder firefighter dressed in his fire proof, yellow jump suit rushed over to us, a black first aid kit in his hands. He dropped to his knees and looked over the driver, picking out an assortment of things from his kit. I leaned back, trying to stay out of his way.
"Are you with him?" the firefighter asked me, his voice loud and urgent.
I shook my head no, my eyes wide with worry again. "He-he's alone. I pulled over when I saw the accident. It's just him . . ."
The ambulance pulled up along-side another fire truck. A police cruiser came to a noisy stop behind all of the other vehicles. A cop stepped out, making his way over to the three of us.
"Are you with him?" the cop demanded.
"No," I repeated myself. "I-"
"I'm going to need you to step back, miss," the cop interrupted me.
I glanced down at the driver. His green eyes were open and looking back up at me. "But-"
The cop leaned down, grabbing my elbow firmly. He lifted me easily, ignoring the driver's firm hand on my wrist.
"Sir, you need to let go," the firefighter told him, stitching the gash in his head. "I need you to stay still."
His grip didn't waver.
Three paramedics came over, carrying a stretcher.
I bent back over, addressing the bronze-haired driver. "You'll be fine. They'll take care of you. The paramedics will take you to the hospital and everything will be fine."
"Miss," one of the three paramedics came over to me, "are you hurt at all?"
"No, I'm fine-" I tried to reassure the man.
"Her knees." We both turned to see the driver as he rasped out his statement. "She cut her knees," he took in a breath, "getting me out."
The paramedics glance landed on the tears in my jeans that flared around my knees. "I'm afraid I won't be able to see that clearly," he trailed off at the end, contemplating to himself. "I'm going to have to ask you to come to the hospital with us as a precaution."
"But I-" I started to panic, my eyes darting about.
"While you're there I'll need to ask you some questions," the cop interrupted me again. "I'll just need your name and a signed statement from you."
The driver's fingers squeezed my wrist and I stared down at him.
Calm.
"Yes. Alright. I'll go. Do you mind if I make a quick call first?"
"Do you have a cell phone?" the paramedic asked.
I swallowed. "Yes."
"You can call in the ambulance. We need to get him there immediately."
"Oh. Well, yes, of course."
I watched as they strapped the driver down to the stretcher. As they loaded him into the back of the ambulance, the paramedics working over him and checking for any serious injuries, his gaze stayed on me.
I was ushered into the front of the ambulance. I buckled myself in safely and dialed the familiar number on my cell.
"Alice? It's Bella. I need you to come pick up my car."
Alright, let me know what you guys think so far. I'll try to update this one as soon as I can, but Tough as Nails is my priority at the moment. I'll update both when I can.
Thanks for reading my story!
-GrumpySunshine
