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A memory flashed: I was on my way to visit my sister and her new baby. I’d been driving through the mountains when the storm hit. Then I’d hydroplaned around a bend. Wet roads were a bitch.
I didn’t remember much after that. Obviously I’d hit my head. Briefly, I wondered what other memories I had lost.
But I couldn’t think about that now. Not when I was teetering on the edge of a cliff and facing certain doom.
I was too afraid to move. My car was already creaking, and I was sure that if I did, it’d be enough to send me over the brink. Without changing position, I groped the console and passenger’s seat for my phone. If I was lucky, it’d still be in here. If I was really lucky, it’d be within reach.
No dice on either front. I was stranded and alone, and judging by how under-used this road was at this hour and in these conditions, it’d stay that way. I was about to die a very horrible death.
Unless a miracle happened by in the next few minutes, my remains would become a piece of modern art on the rocks below, along with whatever was left of my car.
My heart was racing, which in my condition only made things worse. The logical part of my brain told me to make whatever peace I could with whatever kind of god was listening, but it was just a whisper compared to the panic that was welling up inside of me, screaming at me to do whatever it took to get out of the car.
“Oh, God,” I managed to say, blood bubbling in my throat.
The car shifted again, followed by a horrific shriek of metal bending and scraping against the side of my car. The only thing that stood between me, a long drop, and a sudden stop were the few inches between the portion of my car hanging over the edge and my back end, still precariously planted on terra firma—a difference that was becoming smaller and smaller as the seconds crept by.
Another small
lurch brought a scream bubbling from my throat, my tears mixing with the blood that was running down from my scalp. Crying usually wasn’t my thing, but when you’re seconds from hurtling to your grave, a desperate call for your mother is nothing to be ashamed of.
It all seemed hopeless until I heard his voice.
“Ma’am, are you all right?”
I couldn’t believe it. My mind tried to tell me that no one could have come by so fast, that this place was in the middle of nowhere. But lo and behold, the glare of a flashlight floated through the darkness and I heard the angelic sound of his voice once again.
“Ma’am, I’m a paramedic,” he said, and suddenly I began to entertain the possibility of God being real. “I’m going to try to get you out of the car.”
I tried to speak, tried to warn him about the cliff, about the car’s impending plunge into the dark abyss, but all I could manage was a simpering gurgle.
My savior cautiously opened the passenger door. The flashlight shone blindingly as he held it between his teeth and crawled over the mangled interior toward me. He moved slowly, making sure not to cause any undo shifting as he assessed just how fucked over I really was.
Judging by the look on his face, I didn’t think I had anything better than a slim chance in hell of making it out alive.
“It’s going to be all right,” he repeated, popping the flashlight out of his mouth as he tried to undo my seatbelt. I whimpered, afraid that the moment I was rid of the belt that I would fall straight down into the chasm below. When the belt held fast inside of the buckle I felt a strange sense of relief, an irrational part of my brain telling me that as long as she was strapped in, I wouldn’t fall.
“I won’t let you—” he began, but before he could finish the car lurched, the undercarriage scraping against the scarred asphalt and the back end rising just slightly off of the rear wheels.
I screamed, renewed tears streaming down my blood-caked face. Now I was afraid that it wouldn’t just be me dying, but I’d be taking an innocent bystander with me, a good Samaritan cut down just for being a decent person. At least I won’t die alone, I thought.
“Okay,” the paramedic said, trying to calm himself as much as he was me. “We’re going to be okay. I’m going to get you out right now, but I’m afraid that this is going to hurt—a lot.”
More than the glass in my face or the broken leg? I wondered, turning my gaze toward him as though I could convey it to him telepathically.
“No, don’t look at me,” he said, almost like he was chastising me. “Look straight ahead, and no matter what you hear, I need you to keep looking out the window.”
Something in his voice gave me pause. But as he’d instructed, I looked straight out the window, blinking through the stream of blood and salty tears clouding my vision.
I could feel him shifting behind me, grunting as though he was straining with something heavy. Then the car shifted back onto its rear wheels like more weight was being pressed down on it. I wanted to look, but his words rang in my ears.
Suddenly his grunts turned into something much louder, a deep, ursine roar bellowing from where I had been forbidden to look only a minute before. Jesus Christ, I thought. What the hell is that?!
I felt something pull on my seatbelt, tightening it around my throat for a moment before the sound of ripping fabric filled the air. I felt the pressure on my throat lift and I heaved a deep breath before coughing up a gout of blood from between my lips.
I didn’t even have time to register that I had begun to slip out of my seat before I felt a big, furry hand gripping my upper arm like an iron vise. I screamed, suddenly aware of my plight as my head turned in panic toward my rescuer, only to find myself locking eyes with what I almost mistook for a massive bear.
Seemingly without effort, the creature pulled me back into the car, dragging me over the center console and into the back seat. My confusion replaced itself with fear as I did whatever it took to save myself from being done in like Goldilocks. But despite my kicks and screams, the monstrous thing held fast onto my arm as it dragged me out onto the wet surface of the road outside.
