A BLEEDING COINCIDENCE
Short story.
BY
Nora Black.
Copyright Nora Black 2013.
*
So Accidental.
The windscreen wipers were fighting a losing battle against the force of the rain. Visibility was almost zero, and it was still only late afternoon. Darren knew he would have to find a motel, or B&B to stop over at for the night. Damn, he slammed the dashboard with his free hand, it was turning out to be 'one of those days'. It had begun with his mobile vibrating between rings on his bedside table. He had opened one eye grudgingly to take in the clock; five-fifteen. He felt the buzz of last night’s wine on his temple. Damn.
"Hi ..."
He whispered into the receiver hoping he had picked up too late, but no, a cool wide awake voice answered,
"You got the job Darren, get into your car and get on down here right now, and by the way, congrats old boy, you really deserve it."
Darren had tried very hard to focus on the good news, but before he could even thank the caller the phone had gone dead in his hands.
He had pulled the covers over himself trying to make the world disappear, but the only thing he could see under the duvet was the face of his ex-wife, and that, naturally, got him up quicker than a bucket of cold water over the head.
He shook his head at the total irony of the situation. Throughout his marriage, Gina had had the luxury of being able to bitch on his failure as a journalist, human being and man, and now, now, when he'd finally made it, she was so gone that he could hardly remember the color of her eyes.
He had searched unsuccessfully through his entire house for a pair of matching socks only to realize that somewhere, way out THERE, was a sock graveyard, chock-a-block full of the other half of the fabled pair. He settled for a miss-match.
By the time he pulled his car out of the garage, he knew that it would have almost no gas in it. He understood the kind of day he had woken into, and he hoped he would be able to get into tomorrow in one piece.
Coffee at the service station with a toasted cheese on the side, improved his mood marginally. He grabbed the day’s headlines from the news stand, found a bench next to an instant car wash bay, and munched, while they washed and he read. Now, that was better, perhaps the day was not going to be an absolute loss after all, but then he saw the gray clouds blow in directly over the highway he was bound to take.
It had begun to rain, only lightly at first, but then, when the road seemed to be stretching endlessly ahead; it started pelting. It wasn't even supposed to rain at this time of year. Thunder threatened to drown out the sounds of Pearl Jam belting out from his speakers, and that in itself was a calamity. Just before he could swear again the real disaster of the day swerved out, off a scrap of country road, in front of him. The silver gray car was moving at a cracking pace; tail lights diminishing in size as he watched.
When next he saw the BMW it was wrapped around a tree, doors hanging open on one side, smoke billowing against the rain from the steaming mangled engine. For a beat of a second he very nearly drove on by, but then morality caught him by his shirt tails. He slowed to a stop a few paces ahead of the wrecked car. DAMN!
Close up the car looked as if it might blow at any second. He grabbed hold of the half open front door and yanked hard, allowing smoke from the interior to escape gratefully into the downpour. Darren could see a young woman, sprawled over the steering wheel with a whip of blood lashing down the side of her face from a wicked gash on her brow. She did not seem to be conscious.
What he knew about first aid was dangerous, but he had either heard or read that you were not supposed to move an accident victim yourself in case of neck injury, or some such thing. He stopped dead for a second, undecided, then Nature sort of kicked him in the butt. He fumbled for the girl’s wrist, which was dangling at an odd angle near the gears. He could feel a pulse. Looked like she was actually going to give him trouble. If she had had the grace to conveniently die he wouldn't have been in this quandary, he could just leave the whole mess behind him and report it to the nearest police station, but no, this girl wanted to live and now it was his problem.
Despite all the warnings he had heard about neck injury instinct was yelling at him to pull her out, and get the hell away from the car before it blew. Instinct won, he twisted the woman's shoulders towards himself then he dragged her, both hands under her arms, out of the car and as far as possible away from the hissing kettle noise it was spewing into the dark rain.
His legs buckled under him a couple of yards away from the boiling wreck; he collapsed in a heap the girl lying comatose and limp on top of him. Weirdly the only thing he could think was that her perfume, whatever it was, smelled absolutely wonderful after the awful smell inside the car.
He was breathing like a steamer, his heart was playing squash all by itself in his chest, but if she was still alive he reckoned he had actually saved her. Carefully, he rolled himself out from under her to get hold of his mobile and call in an ambulance. He had left the phone on charge in his car. He ran over to his Opel just as the BMW decided to blast itself to shreds, a good few of which hit him, solidly, in the small of his back knocking him flat, but fortunately doing more harm to a tree they had ploughed into. Darren brushed dust out of his hair, coughed up a ton of murky air, and dialed emergency services in that order.
By the time he refocused on the woman, she had begun groaning and moving her head about in a dazed fashion. Darren knelt down next to her, he brushed hair out of the blood on her face,
"You've had an accident. Lay still if you can, I've called in for an ambulance--I don't think it will be long." He crouched closer, she was moaning trying to roll onto her side he pushed her back gently,
"Really, I think you've had enough moving around you hit a tree. Where does it hurt?" Even he could hear how lame he sounded, but he really wanted to help her now. Not only did she smell like misty windswept hillsides, but even in her disheveled state she was rather remarkable looking, pert nose, full lips, tiny waist, good shapes, you know, very good shapes. Something squeezed his insides when he looked at her. He remembered that he had a rather inadequate--but probably useful--medical kit in the boot of his car.
He found painkillers, plasters, antiseptic and bandages. He thanked his ex her thoroughness, banged the boot closed (before it filled with water), and went over to play doctor; he hoped fervently that she was going to be okay; she really was most gorgeous.
He bent down to her no longer reluctant. His senses seemed to have an edge to them, a brittleness of heightened perception, even the woman's skin seemed more THERE to him. He had not noticed quite how translucent it was, clear, succulent; he caught himself just in time. He laughed at himself silently, since when was skin succulent, damn.
The ambulance flashed out of the rain at them, red lit and loud. Two well-muscled paramedics made his medical aid efforts look completely silly with their simple efficiency. They swept her off the tarmac, and closeted her in their van with magical wizardry. As an after-thought they invited him along. He declined, then added that he would follow them to the hospital.
After he had negotiated reception, and navigated his way to Emergency through the massive maze like clinic, the girl was back on her feet, and very much awake. He felt ridiculously jealous that he had been left out of her regeneration to life, but then he realized that she hadn't even, formally met him yet. Damn.
He shuffled, really shuffled, up to her bed, and then the oddest thing happened, she just kind of grinned at him,
"It was you who pulled me out of the burning car, wasn't it?" she asked, all bright eyed and grateful.
"
Guilty as charged," he answered, blushing from his collar to his hairline. She held his eyes and the room disappeared, leaving the two of them alone in the universe, or so it seemed.
He helped her into the corridor and down the anonymous gray passage to check-out. At the desk she turned to him,
"My car, I hear, is literally no more; do you think you could give me a lift back to my place? By the way I'm Cassie." She was looking at him from under a heavily bandaged brow that appeared lopsided. She held out her hand, he shook it and tried not to let his relief show,
"Of course I will, I thought that was already a given. That is why I followed the ambulance. That's why I bothered to come and find you....." He was gushing, sounding inane and he knew it; she was simply grinning all over her lovely face.
"Let's go then shall we?" She took his hand.
The dark had chased the rain away, but the night was still wind blown and cold. She buckled up next to him,
"Guess I'm going to be more careful now that I've had a wake-up call;" a serious expression crossed her features,
"Do you smoke?"
"No I don't, and if, as you say, you're going to be more careful neither should