I palmed the wheel and took a right-hand turn out of the parking lot. My GPS told me to drive straight for six miles and then I’d take a right. I moved into the right lane and cranked my music and pictured what my vacation would look like—late night walks on the beach under the stars, evening cocktails on our own private balcony over the ocean, morning swims in azure waters with colorful fish, lazy afternoons in hammocks. I could see it all in my mind’s eye. I could practically feel the heat of the sun and the kiss of relief on my skin of the ocean.
The light turned green. I took my first right. The road narrowed to two lanes before opening back up a few blocks down. Cars parked on either side of the road made for tricky congestion. Cars merged in every which way. I kept glancing at the time even though I knew the worst would have to happen in order for me to be late to drop off the papers.
“You have plenty of time,” I said to myself. “You’ll get there when you get there.”
I took a detour to get off the narrower, congested roads in favor of wider streets with higher speed limits. I made good progress. My GPS said I was only eight minutes from Theo and Banner. I’d be a whole forty minutes early. I decided I’d sit in my car and finish my coffee and go up to their office twenty minutes early—not early enough to be inconvenient.
Maps told me to take another right. I came around the corner and accelerated.
Then, out of nowhere, a large pickup truck lifted up on huge monster tires skidded out in front of me, running his red light. He slammed into the passenger side of a small sedan, the same make and model as the car that had died on me recently. The car was pushed through the intersection. I smelled burning rubber as the tires screamed across the asphalt. The truck rolled up over the hood once they lost momentum, and the car crashed into another car parked at the curb.
Everything came to a grinding halt all at once, and I hit my brakes. The person behind me managed to stop in time, and everything in the intersection went eerily silent except for the beeping crosswalk tone.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
My hands shook on the steering wheel.
If that truck had gone through the intersection half a second later, he would have crashed right into me.
“Holy shit,” I said again.
My own voice in my ears brought me back to my senses. There were people in the small sedan that was now half underneath the lifted pickup. I pulled up to the curb, parking my front tires on the sidewalk, and hopped out of my car to run into the intersection. Smoke poured out from the front of the pickup truck’s grille. A man got out, waving his hand in front of his mouth and nose, hacking up a lung as his cab filled with smoke.
People came out of nearby businesses to look at the scene.
I spotted a man taking a picture with his cell phone. I yelled at him. “Call 9-1-1! Don’t stand there taking pictures! And you!” I pointed at two women up on the curb. “Go into all these shops and see if there are any doctors or nurses. Go!”
The three of them hesitated briefly before snapping into action.
I raced to the passenger side of the sedan. Their window was down, and smoke from the truck was billowing into the car. Things weren’t looking good. I couldn’t believe how quickly the smoke was growing. It bloomed upward, catching the breeze and drawing up into the air above. On the street below, people took out their camera phones and began filming and snapping pictures. I looked wildly around and confirmed that there were at least four people on the phone with emergency services. At least there were some people left in this world who still had the sense to help instead of focus on content for their social media feeds.
Bastards.
I waved the smoke out of my face when I reached the sedan and got a glimpse inside.
Not good.
There were two people inside. The driver, an unconscious man in his mid-forties, and the passenger, a teenage male with a head wound. Blood trickled into his eyes as he winced and looked around, trying to get his bearings. I realized he was just gaining consciousness. He drew a deep breath, sucked great gulps of air into his lungs, and began coughing violently.
I have to act, and I have to act now. Nobody is coming in the next two minutes to help these men. This is on you, Gabi. Be brave.