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Clouds consumed the sky, turning the world into a melancholic, yet beautiful scene that looked like the opening sequence from a chick-flick. Gilbert watched the downpour slam onto the pavement from the window, his pale fingers tracing its frame. The rain was coming down so fast that his eyes could barely focus, but despite that, he continued to stare. Raindrops hitting the roof of the grocery store that sheltered him resembled the sound of a stampede, nearly drowning out every other sound. Normally, it would have calmed him down, but this time it caused a mixture of fear and anxiety to brew within him. Surely, it was not safe to drive in such weather, which is what worried Gilbert the most.
Gilbert could sense that something wasn't quite right; there was a feeling in his gut that just would not disappear no matter how many times he tried to distract himself by tediously counting how many tiles there were on the floor. With worried eyes, he glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past seven, almost twenty-five minutes later than when his grandfather said he would be there to pick him up. He was rarely late, and never this late. Opa was supposed to retrieve Gilbert's little brother, Ludwig, from a playdate with one of his friends from preschool and after that he was supposed to pick Gilbert up when his shift ended. The family had planned to go out to dinner and spend time together, but now it seemed improbable.
He hastily fished out his cellphone from his pocket and dialled his grandfather's number, praying that he was alright and would answer, but he had no such luck. The heartrending feeling that consumed Gilbert was growing worse each time he heard the clock tick. The sound pounded in his head. Working for nine hours took its toll on Gilbert, his eyes felt heavy, his back ached. He fought of the impulse to venture out into the hellish weather in search of his family. What held him back was the possibility that his grandfather and brother would arrive soon after he left and he would never know. After contemplating the idea for a few minutes, Gilbert decided it was a risk he needed to take, but it wouldn't do him any good to walk anywhere; it would only make him feel worse.
It seemed like Gilbert waited a lifetime before his call was finally answered. An irritated sounding voice came from the other line. "Hello?... What do you want, Gilbert? I'm kind of busy."
"Sorry for bothering you, Elizabeta, but I need your help." His words came out shakily and panicked, which only made his German accent hard to understand. He noticed that the rain was still kicking, but was calming down.
"With what? Are you okay, Gil?" Lizzie sounded more alert than before, perhaps even worried.
"Kind of," Gilbert replied, trying to regain his composure. "My family was supposed to pick me up from work a long time ago and they're still not here. The rain is terrible and I'm worried something might have happened to them."
"What can I do about it?"
"I was wondering if you could help me look for them…. We could drive around until we find them. I could recognize the car anywhere…"
"I don't know, Gil…. The rain is pretty bad and—"
"Please, Liz! I'm begging you; I'm really worried and I need your help." It was quite rare for Gilbert Beilschmidt to beg someone for anything, especially for help. He strived to be independent, not wanting anyone thinking that he was weak or helpless, but this was a sacrifice he was willing to make for his family's sake.
"The awesome Gilbert begging me?! Since you put it that way…" Lizzie's voice trailed off, her tone was smug and Gilbert could picture her smirking as she spoke. "I'll help you."
"Danke! Just so you know I'm at the store," he informed her, aware of the fact that she knew exactly where his location was in such a small town.
Lizzie sighed deeply as if annoyed. "I know. I'll text you when I'm there." And with that, she hung up the phone.
Soon after their conversation ended, Gilbert witnessed a police car racing down the street, hearing the ear-splitting sounds of its siren going off. He took a mental note of which direction it was going so he could order Lizzie to follow it when she arrived. Then a flash of headlights crossed his vision as another vehicle entered the parking lot, which made Gilbert momentarily cover his eyes. Due to the striking light, he couldn't quite make out the size or shape of the car, and for a fleeting moment, he experienced hope that it could be those he was searching for, but his heart sunk when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Lizzie.
Reluctantly, Gilbert treaded out of the building not even making a slight effort to abstain from getting soaked on his way to the car. Upon opening its doors, Gilbert flopped into the vehicle, banging his head on the door frame. He cussed in German and his hand automatically moved to the spot where he was hit. "…I saw a police car that went west," he told Lizzie when he no longer felt the pain of the impact. "We have to follow it."
Lizzie looked at him like a deer staring into headlights. Her mocha-coloured hair was slightly dishevelled as well as the black tank top and the grey sweatpants she was dressed in. It seemed like she rushed to get to him, but knowing Lizzie, Gilbert presumed that she was probably home alone all day watching Netflix. She was more likely than not surprised at how his anxiety affected his idiosyncrasies. "…Okay," she finally responded, raising her eyebrow at the German man beside her, but she didn't attempt to squabble with him as she normally would.
Lizzie drove carefully, making sure to drive under the speed limit and steered clear of any potential accident causers. The expression on her face was inscrutable, the ambiance in the vehicle tense. While Gilbert's emotions were written clearly all over his face, there was no way to know what Elizabeta was thinking or feeling. Once again, a resounding siren could be heard approaching quickly, then came the excessive honking. Gilbert covered his ears and Lizzie made a sound of annoyance as she pulled over to let the ambulance pass by. He shivered at the thought of where it was headed.
He bit his lip. "You have to follow it, Liz," he whispered whilst twiddling his thumbs. He realised that his abnormal behaviour must have been freaking Lizzie out, although it didn't show. Silence and anxiety were rare for him, as was externalizing his fears around others. He was the type of person who cracked jokes when something distressed him; however, now there was nothing he could think of to say.
Lizzie glanced at Gilbert as she commenced driving, her face haunted with worry, her green eyes soft and full of concern. She gently placed her hand on his tense shoulder, and for a moment she seemed to be searching for the right words to say. "I promise everything's going be okay, Gil. Your worries will go away when you see that they're alive and well. They might just be hung up on something…" She spoke irresolutely as if she did not believe her own words.
"Ja…I guess." Gilbert's voice was small, doused in disbelief. The possibility that his family forgot to pick him up was alarming, but highly unlikely. He felt like his grandfather and brother could never do that because they would never hear the end of it; he was too overbearing to be forgotten.
As soon as Gilbert saw the red and blue lights flashing in the near distance, his heart began to ache with anticipation, his breaths became more shallow and rapid. He saw his family's black Volkswagen Passat smashed on the side of the road along with a red Chrysler.
The Volkswagen meant the world to Gilbert and his grandfather. Their shared enthusiasm for vehicles was one of the things that truly bonded them together, besides blood of course. Working on the car gave solace to them in their darkest times. Even when it had the most miniscule problem such as it required an oil change, the pair would be right on it, sharing a laugh, and drinking a beer or two. Sometimes, Ludwig would even assist him, though only in the smallest of ways, because he was still so young, and Gilbert would teach him all about cars and how they worked. The look of awe on his brother's face whenever he was taught something proved that Ludwig was growing to love cars just as much as Gilbert and Opa did, and would even go as far as throwing a fit every time he was told he couldn't help out. What Gilbert enjoyed the most was how his brother would randomly spout off information he learned, but couldn't quite get the facts straight. Once, he had asked Ludwig how many wheels a car had, but at the time he wasn't quite familiar with his numbers yet, and shouted five with such confidence that Gilbert held a laugh in; he didn't have the heart to correct his baby brother
The Passat was loved so much that when the family moved to America, they had the car imported from Germany. Sure, it was costly, but it was well worth it. They were unable to picture themselves in another vehicle. The car was precious, holding so many cherished memories that Gilbert. It had so much blood, sweat, and tears invested into it. But now, the thing that bonded the family the most was broken, far too arduous for him to repair on his own. Gilbert felt as if he was being tortured, like the pieces of his heart were slowly being ripped out of his chest.
It appeared that the Chrysler was the one to crash into the Volkswagen for Gilbert could clearly see that his car was pushed back a ways and its angle was askew. The front of the cars collided into each other, and considering the condition they were in, the impact may have caused a casualty or two. Injuries, however, were inevitable, and he prayed that no one perished in the tragedy, but that too seemed inevitable. The stench of death in the air was stifling. Gilbert was already beginning to lament the future he mapped out in his mind, knowing this accident possessed the potential to change his entire life.
The situation caused everything around Gilbert to become hazy. The minute Lizzie's car abruptly stopped, he recklessly rushed towards the scene as fast as his legs would carry him, calling out the names of his loved ones, and certainly grabbing the attention of the officers. Lizzie was trailing close behind him, her expression projected shock. However, she was alert and ready to catch Gilbert if he were to stumble; she had to prevent him from crashing into an officer.
The officer glared at Gilbert as if he was the most exasperating thing he had ever crossed paths with, which remained unnoticed by the German. "What are you doing here?" He questioned, his voice was deep and stern. "This isn't something you should see."
"Mein Großvater…..Mein kleiner Bruder! Sie waren in dem Unfall! Ich erkenne das Auto!" Gilbert's words were too fast, too panicked. The officer looked at him as if he were crazy; even if he was able to understand German, he probably wouldn't have caught a word of what was said. Gilbert kept repeating himself, his arms moving in the direction of the car, yet the man remained puzzled.
The cop looked as if he was about to do something before Lizzie spoke up. She didn't know exactly what Gilbert said, but she had a pretty good idea. "That is his family's car," she told him, sympathetically. She was clenching her friend's hand so he wouldn't burst onto the scene. "He believes his grandpa and little brother are hurt and he wants to see them."
The officer perked up, his face flashed with recognition. He nodded at Gilbert, silently telling him to proceed while he followed along with Lizzie. They began to have a conversation, but Gilbert tuned it out. In this moment all that mattered was his family.
The rain began to grow worse and Gilbert could tell that God was angry by the way that lighting lingered in the sky and how the thunder boomed throughout the area. He could barely make out someone being put into a body bag, and the stretcher was then put into an ambulance. He wanted to scream, but all that came out was a small squeak of disbelief. Surveying the area, he saw another stretcher, and he practically stopped breathing because he knew nothing good was to come out of this. Gilbert overheard a conversation between a medical examiner and who he guessed was the sheriff.
"Time of death was about 7:30." Only twenty minutes ago. "He experienced a cervical fracture, which is the cause of death. But it also appears that he had a couple of broken ribs and one of his lungs was punctured. Did you find any form of identification for either of them?"
"The poor bastard is Werner Beilschmidt. From Germany, in his mid-fifties, but we don't know who the little one is yet," the officer replied. "…How is the boy?"
"We believe he may have suffered some head trauma and such. He doesn't look too bad, but we have to make sure… We're taking him in now."
Gilbert froze in place, feeling like he was just punched in the gut. He had no idea what he should say or what he should do. There was nothing that could stop the events taking place. He was forced to grit his teeth and bear what to come. In his mind, things could only get worse.