Something wet dripped onto my face. Very annoying. Did Mom know her roof leaked? Dad would never have allowed such a thing. My bed must be under a hole in the roof. Strangely, someone somewhere, was groaning. Pain twisted my mid section. Slowly, I raised my heavy hands and felt the seat belt stretched tightly around my waist Horror gripped me as memory returned. I was the person groaning and my head, as well as my stomach hurt. This nightmare was real and I was not waking up safe and secure in my childhood bedroom.
With a huge effort, I opened my eyes. As my blurry sight cleared, I saw that a large, leafy limb encircled the front of my Passport. Odd! Were we in a tree? And why was my seat belt biting into my stomach? Fumbling for the catch on the belt, my fingers felt cold and stiff. Where was that buckle?
I remembered the sound of the guardrail snapping and then darkness closed in. We must be at the foot of Deertrack Hill. We had survived! My heart turned over. At least, I survived, but where was my mother? Twisting around, I saw that she was not in the front seat nor the floorboard. Had she been thrown out? Was she dead? My heart beat so hard in my throat, it nearly choked me.
Moistening my lips, I croaked, “Mom? Where are you?”
From the back seat, a faint voice asked, “Darcy? Darcy, are we alive?”
Relief washed over me, leaving me limp. I would have laughed but my face hurt. Mom’s hands touched the back of my head. “I landed back here,” she said. “I’m sort of wedged in but I don’t think any bones are broken.”
“Thank God,” I breathed. Tears slid down my face. “I’m going to try to unfasten my seat belt. This good little car protected us. It didn’t roll. It stayed upright.”
Mom’s voice shook. “It wasn’t the car that protected us; it was an angel.”
Pushing and tugging at the belt, I finally had enough slack to unbuckle and shrug out of it. Why hadn’t my air bag deployed? Did the drag from the thickets on the side of the hill slow us down enough to cushion our abrupt stop against a tree? My driver’s side window was completely broken out, but that was a blessing because my door wouldn’t open. This window would have to be our escape hatch.
Feeling for my mother’s hand behind me, I asked, “Can you crawl to the front?”
“I think so,” she said.
“Good. I’m going out of this window, then I’ll reach back in and pull you through if you can push with your feet.”
Three minutes later we stood on the ground beside my wrecked Passport. Rain dripped off the leaves of the giant oak which had stopped our downward slide. Wet, bleeding, and shaking, Mom and I hugged each other and tried to breathe normally.
Excerpt from The Cemetery Club by Blanche Day Manos. Available in print, Kindle, or audible on Amazon.com.
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