Chapter 3: Lost And Found
A frigid breeze whisked through the broken bent window waking him from his sleep. The cold air sent a shiver down his spine. Since the moon hadn't moved, he knew he couldn't have been unconscious a long time. He wondered why no one had come for him yet. Perhaps no one knew where he was and what happened. 'No, dad knows where I am. He'll come for me. He has to.' Ephram thought.
The pounding in his head continued to torment him. He was beginning to feel numb from the coldness of the night wind. The twisted metal refused to budge as he gave another attempt to push it off his body. The more he tried, the weaker he became. Eventually, he gave in and accepted being pinned down. His body felt stiff and lifeless. The circulation in his body had slowed down and he needed to keep the flow going.
The window above him had not been completely obliterated. The lines of the cracked glass resembled a tangled spider web. In the origin of the crack was a dark massive smear of dried blood. The blood belonged to him. He felt like he was the fly trapped in this web. It was the very spot Ephram's head had been smashed against. Seeing all the blood frightened him. He turned his head away.
Ephram remembered his left arm was free from being pinned. Something dark and wet caught his attention as he pulled his left hand closer to his body in hopes of preventing his fingers from turning blue from the cold. A deep gash covered about 4 inches below the bent of his elbow. Blood had hemorrhaged and ran down to his fingertips. He couldn't figure out why he hadn't felt the pain. It certainly looked painful enough. He studied the cut and noticed several lumpy foreign particles mixed in with his blood. It was hard to tell what it was in the limelight, but he convinced himself it was just broken glass and not splintered bone fragments. Nothing to get worried about. He told himself it was just a big paper cut.
Why hadn't he heard any movement or groans from other passengers? Was he the only one who survived? Were the others dead? The silence was deafening. Suddenly, fear sneaked up and consumed him whole. It wasn't entirely the pain that scared him so. What if he really had been the only survivor? The idea of him lying amongst the dead freaked him out. He wanted to holler on the top of his lungs for help but his voice only came out in a strained whimper. He was barely audible within a few feet.
He didn't want to die. But maybe it was better if he did. It was difficult to remain patient and calm when his ribs were snapping one by one like twigs in his chest cavity. He pictured the protruding bones puncturing his lungs and letting him die a stagnant agonizing death. A few tears rolled down his cheeks. 'Mom, help me.' He prayed with closed eyes and dozed off in exhaustion.
The clamor of muffled human voices woke him. He realized he wasn't hallucinating when he saw beams from flashlights swinging back and forth in the darkness of the woods. 'I'm in here. I'm here.' He wanted to shout. He listened as the voices grew louder and louder. The buzz of chain saws and clanking of sledgehammers against the metal shell irritated Ephram's ears. Even though the sounds were far in the distant, it felt like massive construction going on in his brain. On the verge of losing consciousness, a nauseous feeling developed in the pit of his stomach. His head spun in a fury. 'No - don't pass out. Not now. They're here.' He commanded himself.
He heard shouts and thumping of rescue workers entering the interior. They were creating a ruckus in hoisting out bodies in the front. Ephram's lips trembled hoping they would search the back of the interior where he was located.
"Help me." His voice came out as a sigh. Nearby, someone turned over debris noisily that was blocking the way. The flicker of flashlights danced aimlessly at the rubble. Then a round light beamed at his eyes blinding him. He turned his head away from the glaring light and groaned.
"There's someone back here!" The man yelled to the others. "Son, can you hear me?" He said inspecting Ephram's situation.
"Help me.Please." Ephram begged breathlessly. "I'm stuck."
"It's ok. We're going to get you out. Just hang tight." The man said to Ephram. "Hey Tony, get the saw here. Need some light too. Now!" He yelled to someone in the front.
"Hey. Hey, son. You have to stay with me." The man shook Ephram gently on the shoulder when he saw the boy's eyes flutter. "I know you can't breathe too good right now, but you gotta hang on. Ok?"
Ephram focused on his rescuer. It was too dark to place the voice with a face. The rescuer wore a hard hat - the kind people used in construction sites. He was only able to see a beam of light coming from the floodlight. And his rescuer did him the favor of stop shining the damn thing directly into his eyes.
Tony came with the chain saw and a large electric lamp. He set the lamp down on a leveled part of the ground and turned it on. The cool fluorescent light illuminated the area instantly. Ephram squinted and blinked to get accustomed to the bright light.
"Oh my God! The kid's drenched in blood." Tony observed and cringed at the sight of the gore. "We need a medic on standby!!" He yelled in the other direction.
After an unsuccessful try to lift the metal off Ephram, they surveyed the position. They agreed on a strategy to saw the twisted metal in half making the weight of the piece lighter to elevate. Ephram watched Tony start the chain saw. Tony was a hefty, built man in his thirties with a well-defined jaw line. Sweat had pasted his dark hair against his tanned face. Grease marks were smudged on his cheeks and forearms. His intimidating biceps bulged as he took control of the saw. The work had begun but it was a slow process. The metal was thick and heavy.
Ephram was holding on for dear life. For a split second he had forgotten where he was. His awareness was gradually slipping. The loud drone of the saw didn't irritate him anymore. It turned into a comforting sound - equivalent to sound of rain beating against the windowpane. It made him drowsy. The first man kept shaking him each time he closed his eyes. A few other rescue workers had arrived at the scene to help but the space was only limited to allowing two people at a time. Ephram heard their voices shouting pensive instructions to each other.
"You'll be alright, son. We'll have you out in no time." The man told him when the saw was turned off. "Tony, you wanna speed it up." He said to Tony, who was now prying the metal loose with a crowbar.
"Sure Wayne. Workin' on it." Tony puffed.
"Got a name, son?" Wayne asked.
"Eph - Ephram." Ephram answered in a mumble.
"There you go, son." Wayne said turning back to Ephram. Another man handed Wayne a blanket. Wayne pulled the flannel blanket over Ephram covering him up to the neck. "Nasty bump on the head you got there." Wayne said as he wiped the blood with a cloth.
A bump on the head? It was more like someone taking a swing at his head with a machete. Ephram swallowed the lump in his throat and tasted more blood. He felt the piece of metal loosening up and tried to squirm his way out from underneath. The thought never occurred to Ephram that Wayne was actually holding up the metal piece to keep it from collapsing on top of him while Tony sawed the other side.
"No, son. Don't move. You have to stay still. We'll get you out." Wayne reassured. Ephram obeyed weakly.
Wayne was a yellow-haired middle-aged man silvering at the temples. His blond moustache curled up at the ends. The wrinkles around his eyes creased each time he smiled. He was a dead ringer for Colonel Mustard from the Clue board game. All he needed was a safari hat and a pipe. Ephram found the image of being saved by Colonel Mustard amusing and a tiny crack of a smile came across his swollen lips.
"Smiling now, huh? Do you find me funny looking?" Wayne humored. Ephram's droopy eyelids wanted to close. The saw squeaked in his ears. Paganini's Caprice no. 5 came into his head. The intense pitch of the sawing reflected sounds of fast violin strings being pulled. He manipulated the sounds of the saw and imagined it to be music. It was beautiful like a sweet lullaby.
"Son - don't bail out now. We're so close to getting this thing off you." Wayne said giving Ephram another shake. Ephram was tired and wanted to sleep. 'Why can't Colonel Mustard just leave me alone and let me sleep?' Ephram thought.
"At-a-boy. Look at me, son. Look." Wayne tried to get the boy's attention. 'Quit calling me 'son'. I'm not your son.' Ephram thought with annoyance. Ephram needed toothpicks to keep his eyes open. Sleep deprived, he wasn't sure how much longer he could stay awake.
* end of chapter 3 *
A frigid breeze whisked through the broken bent window waking him from his sleep. The cold air sent a shiver down his spine. Since the moon hadn't moved, he knew he couldn't have been unconscious a long time. He wondered why no one had come for him yet. Perhaps no one knew where he was and what happened. 'No, dad knows where I am. He'll come for me. He has to.' Ephram thought.
The pounding in his head continued to torment him. He was beginning to feel numb from the coldness of the night wind. The twisted metal refused to budge as he gave another attempt to push it off his body. The more he tried, the weaker he became. Eventually, he gave in and accepted being pinned down. His body felt stiff and lifeless. The circulation in his body had slowed down and he needed to keep the flow going.
The window above him had not been completely obliterated. The lines of the cracked glass resembled a tangled spider web. In the origin of the crack was a dark massive smear of dried blood. The blood belonged to him. He felt like he was the fly trapped in this web. It was the very spot Ephram's head had been smashed against. Seeing all the blood frightened him. He turned his head away.
Ephram remembered his left arm was free from being pinned. Something dark and wet caught his attention as he pulled his left hand closer to his body in hopes of preventing his fingers from turning blue from the cold. A deep gash covered about 4 inches below the bent of his elbow. Blood had hemorrhaged and ran down to his fingertips. He couldn't figure out why he hadn't felt the pain. It certainly looked painful enough. He studied the cut and noticed several lumpy foreign particles mixed in with his blood. It was hard to tell what it was in the limelight, but he convinced himself it was just broken glass and not splintered bone fragments. Nothing to get worried about. He told himself it was just a big paper cut.
Why hadn't he heard any movement or groans from other passengers? Was he the only one who survived? Were the others dead? The silence was deafening. Suddenly, fear sneaked up and consumed him whole. It wasn't entirely the pain that scared him so. What if he really had been the only survivor? The idea of him lying amongst the dead freaked him out. He wanted to holler on the top of his lungs for help but his voice only came out in a strained whimper. He was barely audible within a few feet.
He didn't want to die. But maybe it was better if he did. It was difficult to remain patient and calm when his ribs were snapping one by one like twigs in his chest cavity. He pictured the protruding bones puncturing his lungs and letting him die a stagnant agonizing death. A few tears rolled down his cheeks. 'Mom, help me.' He prayed with closed eyes and dozed off in exhaustion.
The clamor of muffled human voices woke him. He realized he wasn't hallucinating when he saw beams from flashlights swinging back and forth in the darkness of the woods. 'I'm in here. I'm here.' He wanted to shout. He listened as the voices grew louder and louder. The buzz of chain saws and clanking of sledgehammers against the metal shell irritated Ephram's ears. Even though the sounds were far in the distant, it felt like massive construction going on in his brain. On the verge of losing consciousness, a nauseous feeling developed in the pit of his stomach. His head spun in a fury. 'No - don't pass out. Not now. They're here.' He commanded himself.
He heard shouts and thumping of rescue workers entering the interior. They were creating a ruckus in hoisting out bodies in the front. Ephram's lips trembled hoping they would search the back of the interior where he was located.
"Help me." His voice came out as a sigh. Nearby, someone turned over debris noisily that was blocking the way. The flicker of flashlights danced aimlessly at the rubble. Then a round light beamed at his eyes blinding him. He turned his head away from the glaring light and groaned.
"There's someone back here!" The man yelled to the others. "Son, can you hear me?" He said inspecting Ephram's situation.
"Help me.Please." Ephram begged breathlessly. "I'm stuck."
"It's ok. We're going to get you out. Just hang tight." The man said to Ephram. "Hey Tony, get the saw here. Need some light too. Now!" He yelled to someone in the front.
"Hey. Hey, son. You have to stay with me." The man shook Ephram gently on the shoulder when he saw the boy's eyes flutter. "I know you can't breathe too good right now, but you gotta hang on. Ok?"
Ephram focused on his rescuer. It was too dark to place the voice with a face. The rescuer wore a hard hat - the kind people used in construction sites. He was only able to see a beam of light coming from the floodlight. And his rescuer did him the favor of stop shining the damn thing directly into his eyes.
Tony came with the chain saw and a large electric lamp. He set the lamp down on a leveled part of the ground and turned it on. The cool fluorescent light illuminated the area instantly. Ephram squinted and blinked to get accustomed to the bright light.
"Oh my God! The kid's drenched in blood." Tony observed and cringed at the sight of the gore. "We need a medic on standby!!" He yelled in the other direction.
After an unsuccessful try to lift the metal off Ephram, they surveyed the position. They agreed on a strategy to saw the twisted metal in half making the weight of the piece lighter to elevate. Ephram watched Tony start the chain saw. Tony was a hefty, built man in his thirties with a well-defined jaw line. Sweat had pasted his dark hair against his tanned face. Grease marks were smudged on his cheeks and forearms. His intimidating biceps bulged as he took control of the saw. The work had begun but it was a slow process. The metal was thick and heavy.
Ephram was holding on for dear life. For a split second he had forgotten where he was. His awareness was gradually slipping. The loud drone of the saw didn't irritate him anymore. It turned into a comforting sound - equivalent to sound of rain beating against the windowpane. It made him drowsy. The first man kept shaking him each time he closed his eyes. A few other rescue workers had arrived at the scene to help but the space was only limited to allowing two people at a time. Ephram heard their voices shouting pensive instructions to each other.
"You'll be alright, son. We'll have you out in no time." The man told him when the saw was turned off. "Tony, you wanna speed it up." He said to Tony, who was now prying the metal loose with a crowbar.
"Sure Wayne. Workin' on it." Tony puffed.
"Got a name, son?" Wayne asked.
"Eph - Ephram." Ephram answered in a mumble.
"There you go, son." Wayne said turning back to Ephram. Another man handed Wayne a blanket. Wayne pulled the flannel blanket over Ephram covering him up to the neck. "Nasty bump on the head you got there." Wayne said as he wiped the blood with a cloth.
A bump on the head? It was more like someone taking a swing at his head with a machete. Ephram swallowed the lump in his throat and tasted more blood. He felt the piece of metal loosening up and tried to squirm his way out from underneath. The thought never occurred to Ephram that Wayne was actually holding up the metal piece to keep it from collapsing on top of him while Tony sawed the other side.
"No, son. Don't move. You have to stay still. We'll get you out." Wayne reassured. Ephram obeyed weakly.
Wayne was a yellow-haired middle-aged man silvering at the temples. His blond moustache curled up at the ends. The wrinkles around his eyes creased each time he smiled. He was a dead ringer for Colonel Mustard from the Clue board game. All he needed was a safari hat and a pipe. Ephram found the image of being saved by Colonel Mustard amusing and a tiny crack of a smile came across his swollen lips.
"Smiling now, huh? Do you find me funny looking?" Wayne humored. Ephram's droopy eyelids wanted to close. The saw squeaked in his ears. Paganini's Caprice no. 5 came into his head. The intense pitch of the sawing reflected sounds of fast violin strings being pulled. He manipulated the sounds of the saw and imagined it to be music. It was beautiful like a sweet lullaby.
"Son - don't bail out now. We're so close to getting this thing off you." Wayne said giving Ephram another shake. Ephram was tired and wanted to sleep. 'Why can't Colonel Mustard just leave me alone and let me sleep?' Ephram thought.
"At-a-boy. Look at me, son. Look." Wayne tried to get the boy's attention. 'Quit calling me 'son'. I'm not your son.' Ephram thought with annoyance. Ephram needed toothpicks to keep his eyes open. Sleep deprived, he wasn't sure how much longer he could stay awake.
* end of chapter 3 *
