Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
VIVIAN
Searing pain in my temple wakes me. It hurts to open my eyes. Rain taps on the broken shell of my car, mixing with my labored breaths and my rapid pulse whooshing in my ears. My headlights point into the rocky ground, one shard of light extending into the darkness. Into the rain.
My chest aches where the seatbelt kept me in place. There’s blood on my lips. I wiggle my toes, then my fingers, then force in a shaky breath. The pain is sharp and frightening, but so far everything works.
My head is throbbing, and my stomach feels unsettled, like I might puke. I must have cracked my head against the window. I probably bit my cheek too. The back of my left hand feels tight and an ache in my skin extends up my arm. Airbag burns, most likely.
I close my eyes to rest for a second, but my mind flashes to the tan SUV swerving, crashing together.
A chill rattles through me.
What happened? The road was slick, but I don’t think the driver lost control of the car .
He meant to make my car go off the road. He meant to hurt me.
Will he come down here to finish the job?
No. Don’t think like that.
I force my eyes open, but it’s so dark inside the cab. Where is my purse? I need to call for help.
The car is resting at an angle, right side up, but when I unbuckle my seat belt, I won’t be able to keep myself from falling sideways. The airbag that inflated from my steering wheel is resting limp, almost empty of air now, same as the side door ones, looking like sad, wet balloons in this eerie darkness.
From somewhere in the car, my phone rings. I yelp in surprise. Where is it coming from?
Bracing myself, I press the seatbelt button. But it’s stuck. I must still have too much weight on it. The phone’s ringing jangles my focus, making me frantic to reach it. Leaning left and using the steering wheel for leverage, I ease my right leg from under the dash and set my foot on the far edge of the console below me. Pushing upwards on my right leg fires a hot pain up my shin. Panting and whimpering, I balance there while grasping for the seatbelt button. But now I’m bunched up beneath it, and it won’t budge.
The phone stops ringing.
I cry out in frustration, but it just makes my head pound harder, and my stomach feel rubbery.
I need to unweight myself somehow so I can get free of this seatbelt, then find my phone and call for help.
The phone rings again. It’s coming from the backseat, below me. It might as well be at the bottom of a well. Hot tears spill over my eyelids and tickle my cheeks.
How am I going to get out of here?
What if nobody knows I went off the road? Can anybody see me down here? What if I have to wait like this all night?
A beam of light crosses in front of my windshield. It’s coming from above .
I don’t like that I’m stuck in here. What if it’s the driver of the SUV, coming to hurt me?
Helpless and frustrated, I start to cry. What about Matty?
Rocks tumble down from above, ricocheting off my car. Someone is coming.
“Vivian!”
The voice is muffled, but every cell in my body sharpens.
“Everett!” I cry out. “I’m in here!”
More rocks ping and crash against the side of my car. “We’re going to get you out of there!” Everett calls out from outside my door. “EMS is on their way.” He tugs on my door latch, but it doesn’t open. It’s probably wedged into place.
“Talk to me, Vivian,” he says, sounding frantic. “Did the airbags go off?”
“Yes,” I say. “The seatbelt’s stuck.”
He moves to the door behind me, but that latch won’t open either. “Damn it!” More rocks tumble down, plunking against the metal.
When he comes back to the driver’s side window, through the fractured glass, his face looks distorted and dark. “Are you still wearing the rain jacket?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Okay, can you to pull it up over you? I’m going to push in the window. The glass will break away and fall down.”
“I’ll try.” It’s difficult with the seatbelt still tight on me. Each inch I move makes my ribs burn, but I get the hood up and do my best to curl away from the window. “Okay!”
“All right, stay inside the coat until I tell you! Eyes closed!”
A loud crackling and squeaking fills the cab, followed by a cold gush of air. Tiny glass pieces bounce off my shoulder and the back of my head and tumble down, across the dash and console and into the passenger seat.
“Almost there!” Everett calls out.
I keep my eyes clenched shut. Chunks of class collect in the gap under my right leg and in the space between my left thigh and the seat. The rest of the window frame drops past me, clattering to the far side of my car. Rain blasts in, and a siren wails in the distance.
“Okay,” Everett says, breathing hard.
He helps me peel back the edge of the hood. The second my eyes find his, I start to cry again. “How did you know I was here?”
“You didn’t pick up your phone.” He gently caresses my face, his eyes tense.
“Someone crashed into me,” I say in a rush.
His face tenses. “Did you see them?”
“No. Just the car. A tan SUV. Big, like a Suburban.”
He strokes my forehead. “You’re being so brave, baby. Tell me where you’re hurt.”
“My head. Maybe some ribs.”
He glances in through the window, to where my leg is still bent. “Did you get your leg out like that?”
“I was trying to get the seatbelt to release.”
“Let me help,” he says. “Unless you want to wait for the crash crews.”
“No,” I shake my head, but it just makes my vision swim. “Please. Get me out of here.”
“Okay.”
Together, with him reaching in to support me around the middle, and me pushing off the console with my toes, the tension in the seatbelt gives. Blindly, I reach for the button, feeling my way to the release. It pops free. I think I’m going to fall, but Everett holds me tight.
“Nice and easy,” he says in my ear.
I reach through the window and grab onto his jacket, the fabric slick in the rain. Moving lights up the hot pain in my sternum and the sting on my arm. The rough edge of the window frame scrapes against my shoulder as he lifts me up. His panting breaths echo in my ears and raindrops tap my hot face .
The sirens get louder and swinging red lights filter through the darkness above.
“Almost there,” Everett says, shifting so he’s got me under my thighs. “Sit on the edge of the window now.”
I lean more than sit and work my left leg from beneath the steering wheel. I cry out as my ankle flexes.
“Hang on to me,” Everett says.
I fling my arm around his shoulder as he rocks back from the window, lifting me out one inch at a time.
Breathing through the pain, I use my good foot to leverage off the seat.
Everett scoops under my knees and rolls me to his chest.
Above us on the road, slamming doors and radio chatter fill the night. Everett’s heaving breaths start to slow. I bury my face in his neck and he curls in close to me, his cheek pressing into mine.
“You’re okay,” he says. “I’ve got you now.”
Lights and voices come nearer. Firefighters crowd around Everett, everyone talking rapid fire. The lights and the noise make my headache explode.
“Vivian?”
I squint from inside the cocoon that is Everett’s embrace to see Hutch’s steady gaze. I start to cry again.
“We’re bringing down a backboard,” he says. “Let me just check you out before we go.”
“Okay,” I manage.
He assesses for bleeding and indications of spinal cord damage—the two biggest life threats after an MVA like this. “I still think the backboard is a good idea,” he says with a grimace.
“It’s fine,” I say.
Once I’m loaded, the crew of firefighters and Everett carry me up the slope. At the back of the ambulance, I snatch at Everett’s hand.
He leans down to kiss my forehead. “I’m not leaving your side,” he says over the crackle of radios and throaty hum of the engines .
Has he read my mind? I don’t want to be alone.
I’m lifted into the ambulance and secured to the gurney, with Hutch on one side and Everett on the other. The back doors slam shut, and the ambulance starts moving.
Hutch starts a more detailed assessment. I cry out when he palpates my chest wall. Then again when he squeezes my left ankle.
Everett and Hutch help remove the raincoat so he can start an IV. “I’ve got a little specialty cocktail for you. Should help with the nausea and your headache,” Hutch says, injecting something into the IV. A cold rushes up my arm, but it’s gone just as quickly. Hutch then drapes warmed blankets over me.
While he goes to work fitting an air cast around my left ankle, Everett strokes my forehead, his worried gaze locked on me.
“I know it hurts,” he says, “tell me what you can. What you remember about the crash.”
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate as the ambulance rocks. “A tan Suburban. It was behind me at the stop light. Then, just before the bridge, it hit me from behind.”
Hutch and Everett exchange a tense glance.
“It came again, and then…” I draw a shaky breath. “It hit me from the side. I was trying to pull over. I thought he was just in a hurry. But it was wet and dark. I slammed on the brakes. It happened so fast. I was scared of the bridge. I went over the side, and the car started to flip.”
Tears sting my eyes and make my head thump like someone’s inside my skull with a hammer.
Everett uses the soft sleeve of his flannel to dab my eyes. “I’m so sorry this happened, baby.”
“Can you call your mom?” I break down when I think about how Matty’s going to react when he sees me broken. What if it cracks his unfailing belief that I’ll always come home?
“I texted her when Hutch was packaging you up.” Everett presses a tender kiss to my forehead. “It’s going to be okay. ”
The meds are starting to kick in, easing the hammer inside my skull and quelling the unease in my stomach. “Do you think… someone did this?”
He wipes down his chin, then takes my hand. His expression turns serious, edged with that fierce determination I’ve grown to trust. “I’m going to find out.”