Chapter 5

Don helped Charlie sit up, his back against the wall. Charlie's eyes were still wandering the room, but stopped at the video camera. Don dropped the bottle of water he was holding, and it rolled near the head of the mattress. As he leaned to pick it up, he whispered, "I think they can hear us, too."

When he sat back on the bed, Charlie was looking at him. Don offered him the water. He waited until his brother had taken a drink. Charlie didn't seem about to volunteer any information.

"How did you hurt your foot?", Don finally asked.

Charlie's eyes widened. His mouth opened, but no sound. He took another drink, cleared his throat, finally managed a raspy, "I thought you knew."

"Last thing I remember is cuffing your backpack to my chair, going down the elevator and getting in the SUV to take you home."

Charlie was still drinking, and Don grabbed the bottle. "Pace yourself. We have another bottle, but I'm not sure we'll get others."

Charlie's eyes were searching the walls. "Where is the door?"

"I'll let you know when I find it. So what do you remember? Tell me before you loose your voice again."

Charlie shrugged. "I fell asleep. Next thing I know, there's a giant marshmallow in my face and my arm is hanging out a window I never rolled down."

His words were triggering memories for Don, so he pushed. "Then?"

Charlie coughed, opened his mouth to speak again, couldn't again. Don relented and let him have some more water. It didn't help much. Charlie cut down to one-word descriptions. "Rolled. Woman. You. Passed out."

Don closed his eyes. He could see it, now.

Almost as soon as they got in the SUV, Charlie fell asleep, his head against the window. He didn't even hear Don's cell, when Dad's friend had called. Someone from the book club…she said Dad was having dinner at her house, she thought he'd had a heart attack. Emergency was on the way, but he should come also. She lived in a rural area, an offshoot road off the old part of the Pasadena Highway, but Don knew where it was. Besides, he was sure he would meet emergency vehicles on the way.

The entrance onto old Pasadena Highway was always harrowing, and Don was surprised Charlie slept through it. He knew he was taking this way too fast for the condition of the road, but he had to get to Dad.

Finally, they reached the turn-off, almost missed it. Charlie bumped his head pretty good on that one, which seemed to wake him up a little. But just as he saw his brother raise his arm to feel the bump on his head, Don felt the passenger front tire blow. Don gripped the wheel, tried to keep on the narrow road, but he'd been going too fast. The SUV twisted off toward the right, rolled, landed upright in a narrow ravine.

Don tried to look to see Charlie, but both of the airbags had deployed, and it was already dark outside. "Charlie!", he yelled. "Charlie!" He was fumbling with his seat belt with one hand, pushing at the driver's door with the other. Suddenly the door flew open — someone had pulled from the outside at the same time that he was pushing from the inside.

"You've got to get out!" He heard a woman's voice. "I smell smoke!" She knocked his hands away, easily released the seatbelt. Her strength surprised him when she started to drag him out from behind the air bag.

"My brother's in the car," he yelled, pulling away from her outside the SUV. "I think he's hurt."

"We've got to hurry!" she insisted, but went with him to the passenger side. Don was getting dizzy. He didn't think he was hurt anywhere — he felt some bruising on his face and ribs from the air bag, but didn't find any blood — but the fear and adrenaline and terror for his brother was affecting him. He put his hands on his knees, bent over to take a few deep breaths. When he stood back up, she was trying to pull Charlie through the broken window.

"Wait!" He pushed her aside, yanked on the door.

"There's no time!" She tried to shove him aside.

"Just help me, he pleaded, remembering her strength when she had pulled him from the car. Suddenly, he was sure he could smell smoke also, and his pulls became more frantic.

Finally the woman joined him. Just when he was about to do it her way, and break out the rest of the window, the door popped open. It was just a few inches, but it was enough for her to wiggle in, snap the seat belt.

"Grab him now," she panted, "drag him out!"

Don knew he couldn't wait to do this properly. She said the SUV was going to catch on fire, he had to get him out. As he pulled on Charlie, twisting his slight frame enough to get him through the opening, she was at his shoulder again, lending her strength. Charlie's foot caught on the door, and he could hear Charlie yelling now. Don stopped, but she kept pulling. He was afraid she was going to pull it off, and he turned to stop her when Charlie flew out of the SUV, knocking all three of them to the ground.

They lay there, gasping. "Charlie!", Don cried again, but his brother was unconscious again. The woman scrambled up, pointed to headlights on the road.

"That's my truck," she said. "Let's get him up there and I'll take you both for help."

"But…"

"Smell the smoke!" she screamed at him. "It's so dry around here — once that fire starts, we can't be anywhere near!" She was forcing Don on his feet, and he wrapped his arms around his brother's body. The ravine was slight, but it was still almost more than he could do, in shock himself, to drag Charlie up to the road. The woman kept tugging at the back of his shirt. He had to trust her to lead the way.

Finally they were on the road, stumbling to her pickup. Don started for the passenger door, but she called, "back here! Put him back here" Don looked over the cab into the bed, saw a couple of thin mattresses. She was at his elbow. "I just bought these," she said, pushing him now, "was taking them home. He'll be more comfortable."

Don decided that maybe he should let Charlie lie down, and together the two of them wrestled him up into the truck bed, onto the mattresses. Don kneeled over his brother, then turned to ask if she had a blanket.

The two-by-four didn't hit him that hard. Her aim was off in the dark. Still, the surprise alone knocked him off his feet and in moments, she was on top of him, holding something over his mouth. Chloroform. He could smell it, he tried not to smell it, tried to push her off, was amazed again at her strength. He tried to turn again toward Charlie, but the next thing he knew, they were both in this room.

When he opened his eyes again, Charlie was staring at him. "You okay?", he whispered.

Don swallowed. This time Charlie handed him the bottle of water, and Don drank some, mostly to stall for time. He lowered the bottle, looked his brother in the eye. "I got a call, while you were asleep," he said gently. "I was trying to get us to Dad. I think Dad is in trouble."

Charlie closed his eyes, began to slip down the wall. Don reached out a hand to help him settle back in a lying position on the mattress. His brother accepted his touch, but he wouldn't open his eyes. "Charlie?", he asked, and he leaned over again to check his brother's fever. His hand stopped, though, when he saw tears squeezing out of Charlie's closed eyes, running in rivers down his face. On its own accord, his hand switched its mission. Instead of putting a palm to his brother's forehead, he cupped his cheek, and Charlie turned into it.

Don hung his head, and let his brother cry.