Page 93 of On the Double
“Fucking hell!” I shouted.
“Would you calm down?” Oliver sighed. “You’re being spastic.”
“I’m not spastic. I’m late.”
Shaking his head, he walked past me to his own car. I got in and slammed the door, then cranked the engine and shifted into reverse. Oliver waved as he pulled away from the curb, and once I was calm enough, I backed out and headed into town. Thankfully, it wasn’t a long drive and I wouldn’t be super late, but still…I saw a write-up in my future and spit flying from my boss’s mouth as he yelled at me.
The drive didn’t go as smoothly as I planned either. I got stuck behind Mrs. Braverman, who was about a hundred years old and still insisted on driving even though her eyesight was impaired and she never drove over twenty miles an hour. But if I passed her, the whole town would know about it and yell at me for putting the old lady’s life in danger.
Everyone knew she shouldn’t have a license, so they steered clear of her whenever she was on the road. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t do me any good to take the side streets since the IGA was right down the road.
“Come on,” I muttered, tapping the wheel. If she turned at the light, I would be home free. But of course, she didn’t. I got stuck at the red light and had to wait as she slowly pulled through the intersection after it turned green. Finally, she hit her turn signal and pulled into the parking lot for the Dollar Store.
I let out a whoop as I hit the gas just in time to make it through the next light. “Thank Go?—”
Metal smashed into metal and pain sliced through my arm as the world spun around me. A scream lodged in my throat as glass shattered. I felt like I was on a tilt-a-whirl as I continued to spin until everything came to a halt. My head snapped to the side, sending pain down my neck and back.
I sucked in a staggering breath as I stared at my hands as they shook on the steering wheel. I wasn’t sure if I had held on the whole time or if they just naturally came to rest there once I stopped moving. The windshield was cracked so badly I couldn’t see through it.
“Okay,” I said, my breath coming out shaky. My heart was racing a million miles a minute as I continued to stare at my hands. I distantly heard someone shouting, but couldn’t make out the words as the sounds seemed to come and go. A high-pitched sound pierced my eardrum before quickly fading to nothing.
Then I heard metal scraping and my passenger side door was yanked open. I tried to turn my head, but flinched at the pain in my neck. “He—hello?” I called out, hoping someone was still there.
“Shit,” the voice muttered. “Are you okay?”
“Um…” My voice shook as I tried to come up with an answer. Was I okay? I couldn’t even seem to take stock of my body. I knew things hurt, but I couldn’t process where the pain was coming from.
“Just stay still. Don’t move.”
“Don’t move,” I repeated to myself. I could do that. I could stay still. Why did I need to stay still? I looked to my left for the first time and took in the damage. My window was broken, but that wasn’t the alarming part. There was a piece of metal coming in through the window, and it was going straight through my arm.
There was a hole in my arm.
Something was sticking out of my arm.
“I…There’s metal…”
“Stay still. The ambulance is coming.”
I stared at it some more, then started laughing. “I’m holy.” Tears spilled down my cheeks as I continued to laugh. It wasn’t normal. Did most people laugh when they were impaled with objects? No, this couldn’t be right. “I’m holy!” I laughed harder.
“Harper, just stay still.”
Harper. That was me. Whoever was standing there knew it was me. “Who—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I was halfway between losing my shit and laughing at the fact that I had a massive hole in my arm. “Do you think I’ll get a halo?” I asked, unsure why that thought came to mind.
“Harper, just stay with me, okay?”
“Who’s me?” I asked, then laughed at how silly it sounded.
“It’s Red. Do you remember me?”
“Like the color?”
“Yeah, like the color. We met at the cookout. Do you remember?”
I closed my eyes and tried to remember all the faces I’d seen that day. “Guns,” I remembered. “You…you drive with a rifle in your truck.”
“That’s right. You doin’ okay?”