1. A faded memory #2
Of course, the one window still intact is the driver’s side. Once she turns, I retrieve a large branch, snapped from a fractured tree, and swing with all the might I can muster. A hollow clang emits, yet the window stays intact, and swinging again ends in the same result.
My hands ache from my tight grip, but I endure it once more. The branch shatters against her window, and pieces of wood soar through the air as my legs buckle. “Fuck!”
“Please help me! I don’t want to die!” she screams, pounding against the window.
“I’m not going to let you die. Hold on.” Strong words fight through my sensible doubts.
I examine the area for anything of use, but fierce flames continue their way up her car and around the passenger side, with the rain doing everything to hold it back.
Or that’s what I’m telling myself, not wanting to think the universe is forcing me to endure another death.
That would be cruel. That would be faithless. That would be…damning.
Water pours down, obscuring what little vision I have, and my hand acts as a shield when something amongst the trees pulls my focus. “You,” I whisper. The dark figure from earlier stands beyond the treeline–watching. “Help!” My voice breaks in anguish, but it stands silent and unmoving.
From inside the car, a yelp prickles my arms, lifting small fibers of my hair. “The fire’s inside!” she pleads.
“Move!” With a last look into the forest, I find its eyes glowing a distasteful pink hue. My legs part, and I kick with exhausting anger. My failure is mocked by a thudding sound. I hate those fucking pink eyes. This is all its fault.
Using more force, I kick again and hear the glass crack. I relish in the moment of adrenaline. Yes. I’m close; one more kick will do it. Raising a knee towards my chest, it crashes down, shattering her window. “Quick, give me your hand.”
“I-I can’t. My foot’s caught under the dashboard,” she coughs out, pulling at her leg while reaching for me. Flames consume her back seat, and at any moment, they’ll find their way up front.
“We need to go,” I grunt, and our hands clasp tighter. She shakes her head, expelling more coughs as she wheezes in between breaths. But I refuse to leave. Smoke travels up her car, targeting my nose with a kiss before burning my lungs with the taste of soot, forcing our hands to separate.
“Please don’t–don’t leave me.”
“I won’t, but we need something to pry you free.” I’m trying to stay calm, yet this internal battle is more than winning.
“There’s a bat…in my backseat. It can help…right?” She panics between breaths, so I hurry to check, seeing flames waving out the window.
“I won’t be able to reach it. There’s fire all over the back.” My cough continues as I take a regressive step to avoid the wayward flames. “Do you have anything else?”
She looks past her car and points to something in the distance. “That bag of…golf clubs.”
“I’ll grab it. Keep trying to free your leg.
” On instinct, my body moves towards her tossed bag roughly abutting a tree.
Puddles splash, and my legs crumple as an unexpected hole steals my balance.
“Fuck!” Wincing at the pain radiating in my ankle from rolling it, I hear the strain in her screams and know I need to press forward.
“Hurry! The fire’s spreading!” With no time to assess my damage, I hobble the remaining distance and retrieve her bag. It’s a bit weighted, but I manage to swing it over my shoulder and head back when her shriek slices the air. “It’s burning my legs!”
Small bumps form over my skin witnessing the car now drowning in smoke, sending a dead chill up my spine so intense, it’s as though the air’s temperature decreased.
“I’m coming,” I shout, dropping the bag and grabbing a club for each hand. Spasms in my ankle urge me to stop, but I can’t. Not when I’m this close to saving her.
Glass cracking fills the air once again, and behind it are more screams of distress. My legs pump with urgency, and I ignore the pain. “I can make it. It’s just a few…”
Abruptly, a massive explosion detonates into a roaring flame, followed by an unbearable shockwave colliding with my body.
I’m launched back onto the dampened ground, releasing the clubs as I roll to a stop.
Drops of rain cool my forehead, and a faint hum fills my ears.
Agony throbs through my chest from the wind being knocked out of me, and with a groan, I flop to my side as muffled screams cover the space.
They aren’t coming from me.
My hands twitch as I force myself to my knees.
Snared by the yellow and orange hue, the remaining air retracts from my lungs, and a pain much worse than physical hits me.
No…Please, God, no. Shaking my head in disbelief, that irritable humming sound dissipates, and a new reality is born from another failure.
Flames consume the car in full, and her silhouette sits visible, staring back while her body jerks from the fire eating away at what’s left. She yells in agony until the fire swallows those too, and despite my body’s attempt to cement me from moving, I do so anyway.
There’s nothing I can do. That much is clear. But this happened because I was too slow, too weak, and too late. My hands graze over broken wood and car pieces, and my knees are soiled from dragging them through puddles, but I make it back to where the golf clubs lay, the spot of Death’s victory.
Another person I couldn’t save .
Her body melts within the flames, sitting motionless with one hand reaching out. She’s gone, and the scent of burning flesh weighs heavy as the last bit of her car is encased in fire–until even its silhouette vanishes.
“Why?” A cry erupts and my trembling hands pound the dampen ground. “Why! Why! Why! Why!” I repeat, like an answer will present itself. Hatred consumes me, and my skin itches from within, staring at each wisp of fluttering flames.
I rise, limping towards the smoldering car, and those same destructive flames retract as though they’re afraid of me. “I wish it was raining harder. She doesn’t deserve to be left here.” My empty pleas merge with the bellowing thunder from above.
Brakes screech, redirecting my attention. An all-black vehicle pulls over, and a man in a trench coat steps beyond the opening door.
Worry trickles from his throat. “Kyra, are you okay?” Scoffing, I turn towards the fire as it continues burning any trace of life within it. Now a roaring chaos, it continues engulfing her vehicle.
Lightning thrashes above us, and thunder howls a second after.
“Come on, we should leave. It’s not safe, and this weather’s getting worse,” he instructs, but I disregard the attempted protection because Detective Jacob isn’t here on official business.
Well, maybe he is. Me. I’m his ‘official business.’
It’s no surprise he made an appearance; hell, he was at Rosie’s funeral, parked four cars behind mine. It makes sense he’d follow me here. Nice of you to pointlessly appear now.
“Let me guess, Detective. You assume I did this also?” I narrow my gaze in his direction.
“We can discuss this later; you shouldn’t be so close to the scene,” he answers, continuing with his approach. Hissing radiates from what’s left of her car, and the fire begins to dissipate beneath the heavy rain, making it harder to see a couple feet in front of me.
I whisper, “We need to see who she was.”
“See who, who was?” Jacob bites .
“The car. There’s a woman in there– Was a woman in there.” I correct myself.
“Shit.” His response seems caring. Perhaps he does.
But my faith became nonexistent after the shit show he put me through with Rosie.
Detective Jacob aborts any attempt to remove me and bolts back towards his vehicle.
I listen to him call for backup as the responder asks for more information.
When asked about the cause, his throat bobs.
“Potential accident or…” Gripping his radio firmly, he adds, “Homicide.”
And there it is. The conclusion I waited for him to reach.
Aches from my ankle and chest surface, reminding me of the sustained bruises in my failed attempt. Death came for someone again and won. She’s a cruel bitch, hell bent on destroying everything around me, and it’s only a matter of time until her will seeks mine.
The sun hides beneath the horizon, afraid to face me while illuminating the small flames fighting for survival. My eyes move past them and into the surrounding trees. Gone. Could I have been imagining that too? Maybe I am looking for someone else to blame.
“The cops are on their way. They’ll find out who she was and her next of kin.
There’s nothing more you can do.” A semblance of assertiveness coats his tone.
I push through the pain and walk past him.
“Where are you going, Kyra?” he asks, noticing my tattered black dress is singed with rips along my stomach.
“Home. Unless you feel here and now is the best place suited for more unethical questioning?” Not bothering to look back, I add, “I’m sure you remember where I live.
” My car isn’t far up the road, abandoned and probably still running.
Regardless, I’ll walk home if it means no longer being in his presence.
Once I’m sitting inside and away from prying ears, I test the resilience of my steering wheel.
Wails of sorrow pour past my throat until the internal muscle becomes sore and bruised.
My battered knuckles continue striking the steering wheel, crying until the depths of my tears run dry, and even my soaked clothes share the notion.
I couldn’t save you, and I couldn’t save her.