It was raining. That, Doc supposed, was their first mistake—his first mistake.
He never should've let them go out there in the first place.
Raindrops waged war with the window, their only victory coming in the way they blurred Doc's view of the outside world. Even as the harsh weather created a loud hum of energy, a heavy silence held the room captive.
His house always seemed more alive when Lightning was there.
"Your move."
Doc tore his gaze from the window. He stared at the chess board without really seeing it before moving a piece at random.
The sheriff's chuckle was a bit forced, a vain attempt to ease the tension. "You're off your game tonight, Doc."
This time, Doc kept his eyes glued to the board. There wasn't any use in staring out a window that might as well have been shuttered. "I didn't think it was gonna rain this much."
"The town could use it," Sheriff commented, sliding his queen into Doc's rook. "Been so dry and dusty lately."
Doc pursed his lips, trying hard to focus on his next move. He couldn't help it if his mind was elsewhere.
"I'm sure they're fine."
He glanced at the sheriff. All evening, he'd made himself believe that things were all right. That the kids were fine.
Lightning was a professional racecar driver. He's fine.
Thunder clapped in the distance, shaking the small house.
He's never had to race in the pouring rain, though.
Doc hadn't even begun to think about his next move when his phone buzzed, the familiar ringtone Lightning had assigned to himself piercing the silence.
Though he got it halfway through the first ring, it still didn't seem fast enough.
"Hey, kid." He found it surprising that his voice sounded so calm when his heart would like nothing better than to fly out of his chest.
Nothing. The silence was about to drive Doc crazy, but before he could say anything more, a sharp breath pierced his eardrum.
"Doc…?"
"I'm here, son. Talk to me. What happened?" Because, by the pain that drenched Lightning's voice, Doc knew things were far from all right.
"... We crashed… I…" Another sharp breath set Doc's skin on edge. "I crashed."
Doc had felt his heart do many things over the years, but he'd never felt it stop.
"Did you call 911?" he questioned. By now, Sheriff had his own phone out and at the ready.
"... No."
"You're supposed to call 911 before you call anyone else." For once in his life, Doc couldn't hide the panic in his voice.
"I know, but I… I forgot the number."
"It's all right." The fact that the kid couldn't connect the dots—that 911 was the number—gave Doc a little more bearing on the situation. He nodded at his companion, who had already begun to dial emergency services. "Sheriff's calling them now. Do you know where you are?"
"Uh… Uh, you know that… that one old barn off… I-40, is it? Just a little south of that."
Doc glanced at the sheriff. "He's—"
"I heard," came the tight reply.
"Lightning, do you see any smoke? Is the car on fire?"
"Not that—" Lightning's breath hitched, cutting him off for one of the longest minutes of Doc's life. "Not that I can see…"
"Can you smell any smoke? Anything at all?"
"No… Car's just a little crunched up, though…"
"How crunched?"
"Like… I can't get out crunched."
Doc's heart skipped a beat as he tried to drown out the sheriff's phone call and focus on Lightning. "All right. Just take a deep breath. What hurts?"
"Everything…?"
"I need specifics."
The long pause tore at Doc's nerves. "My leg, I guess. I can't… can't really move it—ah!"
"Lightning?"
"'M fine…"
Take your own advice, old man. Breathe… "How's Sally? Is she okay?"
"She's… She's not moving, Doc… Doc, she's not…" A choked sob crackled through the speaker. "Doc, I'm gonna lose her!"
"You're not gonna lose her, kid. An ambulance is on its way. Now, I need you to breathe, okay?" The ragged breaths that followed were more than a little concerning, but at least Lightning wasn't hyperventilating anymore. "That's it. Just like that. All right, is she breathing?"
"No…" Doc sucked in a breath. "I don't know… Wait… Yeah, s-she is."
Oh, thank God.
The next moment had Doc on his feet, phone still pressed to his cheek. "You just hang tight, okay? Keep up the steady breathing, don't panic. I'm coming to—"
Doc felt a hand grip his shoulder. "They're quite a ways off. The ambulance'll reach them first, and by the time you get there, they'll be halfway to the hospital."
"I can at least try." Even as he argued, Doc knew the sheriff was right. Sucking in another breath, he forced himself to sit back down. "Kid, are you still there?" The heavy breathing answered the question before Lightning could. "I'm too far to reach you before the ambulance does."
"I know. It's fine, Doc. We're gonna…" Another shuddering breath. "We're gonna be fine… right?"
"Of course, kid. You're gonna be just fine. All you have to do is stay awake until the ambulance arrives. Can you do that?"
"... I think so…"
"No, Lightning, I need you to be sure. Why don't you try waking Sally. Maybe she's not stuck like you are."
The rustling sent pins and needles plunging into Doc's chest as he tried to maintain his patience levels.
Breathe. Just like you told the kid. Breathe…
An eternity passed before Lightning spoke again. "It's—" A sharp inhale. "It's no use, she's not… not waking up. Doc, she's okay, right?"
"She's fine, kid. I'm sure she's fine. Why don't you tell me more about you?" Anything to keep him awake and talking… "What hurts? Specifics this time, please."
"I was gonna ask her tonight."
"... What?" It took nearly an age, but the realization slowly dawned on Doc. "Oh, Lightning… I'm so sorry."
So, his suspicions had been correct. The kid had spent much of the last week in a flurried mix of giddiness and anxiety. Not to mention all the not-so-subtle "what's the best way—like the best way—to propose to someone" questions he'd peppered Doc with for days.
"Whenever you decide to do it," he'd said, "I'm sure it will be perfect."
Now, as Lightning's groan filtered through the tiny speaker, Doc swore he heard his heart crack.
"I had it all planned out…" the kid went on. "It was going to be perfect. And now…"
"And now," Doc said when the first sniffle echoed through the line, "you've just had a small setback. You still have the ring, the plan in your head, everything. You can still ask her, and guess what?"
Another sniff. "... What?"
"It'll be even sweeter when you do because of the way you two made it out of this together. Tonight wasn't your only chance."
"But…" And there was that hitching breath again, that shudder of pain. "What if we don't make it out…?"
Doc swallowed, keeping his voice steady by sheer willpower. "You will. I promise, you will."
"But what if only I make it out? I can't live without her, Doc, you know I can't. Or what if only she makes it out, or—"
"Lightning," Doc cut in, his tone sharper than he'd intended it to be. Calm down, old man. Just calm dow—"what have I told you about what ifs?"
"I…" And he could tell the kid's brain was working overtime trying to come up with an answer. "Uh… I forget…"
"They're one of life's greatest enemies. Don't dwell on 'em; just take things one step at a time. Okay?"
"Okay… Okay, but what if we don't—"
"You're going to be all right, do you hear me?" He could almost see the kid's reluctant nod. "Good. Why don't you tell me how you crashed?"
"Uh… So it was really dark and rainy—it's still super rainy, like I can't see anything—and the… the visibility was next to nothing…"
Having grown tired of seeing his own lines of worry mirrored on the sheriff's face, Doc had long since put Lightning on speaker. Both sat in tense silence as the kid haltingly told his story.
"It all happened so fast… I thought—" Pain drenched Lightning's voice. "Thought I had better reflexes than that."
"Your reflexes are amazing," Doc soothed. "But not even the best racer can make that kind of turn in the rain."
"But I was going slow! It shouldn't… have happened like this… This shouldn't have happened…"
The drowsiness that laced the kid's voice pushed Doc's heart harder through its fast-paced workout. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault but bad timing and bad weather, do you understand?"
The silence was deafening.
"Lightning?" Nothing. "Lightning!"
"Hmm… Yeah, I'm here…"
"All right, I want you to put the phone on speaker and turn the volume all the way up."
"What…? Why?"
"Just in case."
"Just in case what?" But Doc could tell his instructions were being followed.
"I think it's about time you told me about your pain. And no more evasive comments, you hear?"
"Sure."
"How's your head feeling?"
"It's fine."
"Uh-huh. On a scale of one to ten?"
"Um… Like, a five-ish?"
"Only a five?"
"Wait, is ten the least… or the greatest?"
"Ten is the greatest."
"Oh. Then, like a six… or seven-ish."
"What about your chest?"
"Fine."
"Lightning, we're not going to play Ring Around the Rosie with each body part. I need you to be honest."
"It's…" No matter how many times he inhaled deep through his nose and exhaled, Doc knew he couldn't breathe for the kid. And yet, every time he had to listen to the irregular breaths on the phone, he prayed to heaven he could. "It's hard to breathe… Just sometimes, though. Not like… all the time."
He was on his feet again and headed toward the door. This time, he'd be damned if Sheriff stopped him.
"The ambulance should be rolling up any minute," Doc said, snatching his coat off the hook and using every last ounce of self-control to keep his voice steady. "I'm headed to the hospital. Maybe I'll even beat you there." The dry chuckle did nothing to soothe the mood, only making Doc's anxiety worse. "I want you to stay on the line until help arrives, got it?"
Now, it was Lightning's turn to force a chuckle, one that quickly turned into a coughing fit. "I'm not going anywhere, Doc."
Sheriff, who had been tailing Doc, nodded toward the squad car and the two piled in, even as the Hornet called his name from inside the garage. Maybe it's best you don't drive, anyway.
"All right, kid, we're on our way. Just keep talking."
"Why?"
"I can't have you passing out on me. Not in the condition your head's in."
"But," came the weak protest, "it's only, like, a seven, remember?"
"It should be a zero. Come on, tell me about the proposal."
"… I don't wanna talk about that." He could almost see the kid crossing his arms, pouting even amidst the pain. "Besides, what if Sally wakes up and hears all about it?"
Rain pummeled the windshield and Doc could only imagine what the roads were like right now. "Then she'll be thrilled and you can propose to her on the spot. Come on, kid."
A shaky sigh preceded a very stop-and-go account of his proposal plan. Through it all, Doc found himself only half-listening.
The car's slow pace was killing him, but to go faster would risk them ending up like Lightning and Sally.
So, he gripped the phone until his knuckles shone bright white and prayed.
We're on our way, kid.
We're coming, I promise you.
We're coming.