Strangers: A Novel(48)

Scratching sounds. A voice from some recess of my mind tells me I just clipped the hedge that separates our property from the street. I don’t care.

I don’t care about anything.

Turn the wheel, shift gear, drive.

What am I going to tell the people at the hospital? The truth? The piercing sound of a car horn tears me from my thoughts. I just cut somebody off. I think.

Focus, Erik. Damn it.

I have to go left. What was I just thinking about? Oh yeah, the hospital. So what am I going to tell them? The truth? What is the truth?

Joanna tried to kill me. She really did. With full intent. She wasn’t just trying to hurt me. She actually wanted to end my life.

Damn it, I can’t see anything anymore. Everything’s turning blurry. I step on the brake, turn the steering wheel to the right. There’s a rumbling sound, then the car comes to a stop. More car horns blare, several times in a row.

I wipe the tears out of my eyes, groan because I jerked my arm up to do so. This fucking pain’s just about driving me out of my mind.

By now, most of my sleeve is stained red. Hospital. Stitches. I have to keep going.

I even remember to check the rearview mirror before driving down off the sidewalk and back onto the street. Good. Pay attention. Don’t cause any accidents now.

Joanna. I hate you. I love you. I …

Where am I? What’s the way to the hospital again? I think I have to go left here, leave our neighborhood. Yes, that’s it; that should be the right way.

This dizziness isn’t good. Not at all. I need to keep myself alert, need to think. If the mind’s busy, it’ll stay awake.

Why? What could possibly be so horrible that Joanna wants to kill me for it? What did she go through? And with whom? With me?

The last few houses in our neighborhood roll past the side window. At least I notice; that’s a good sign.

A country road. No streetlamps. No illuminated shop windows. Just the brief stretch of road that the headlights are snatching back from the darkness ahead of me. A short gray runway which I’m driving along without ever reaching its end. And a corridor on either side, each one several feet in width.

It’s relaxing for my eyes.

And yet there’s something disturbing the picture. A car is approaching from behind. Its headlights are on full beam, so bright that even the reflection in the rearview mirror is irritating. I try hastily to adjust the mirror, and shout out in pain. Used the wrong arm.

In a fraction of a second, I feel nauseous. My car swerves; I overturned the steering wheel. I take my foot off the gas, try to get the swerve under control. Which is really goddamn difficult with just one arm. I have to concentrate so I don’t vomit.

Finally I get the car straightened up again, and I accelerate. The jabbing pain in my arm has made way for a dull, hot, throbbing pain. I don’t know which of the two is worse.

Those lights behind me … they’re getting closer, and very rapidly at that. The driver must be speeding. What an idiot.

Joanna. Again and again, Joanna’s there in my head. She cuts into my thoughts like the edge of a knife. A knife. How fitting.

But what am I supposed to … Goddamn it, is the guy behind me insane? What’s he trying to do? The headlights of his car are growing in my rearview mirror at breakneck speed. Just drive past me already, asshole. The lane’s clear!

Then he crashes into the back of my car. The jolt hurls me forward, then back against the seat again; my head slams into the headrest and I lose sight of the street. Only for a moment, though; then I manage to focus again. The Audi, thank goodness, stays in its lane. There’s only one headlight in my rearview mirror instead of two. The car drops back a bit but stays behind me.

Should I stop? Will the guy do that too? Apologize, maybe? No. He’s probably drunk as a skunk. If I stop now, he’ll probably crash into me again.

I have to keep driving until I reach a residential area. Somewhere where there are streetlamps. Then maybe I’ll be able to make out the car brand and the color. And the license plate.

It’s not far now. A mile, maybe, one and a half at most.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice something’s changed, and I look into the mirror again. The one-eyed car behind me is getting ready to pass me. Good. I’ll be able to see everything I need. I look into the side mirror. Now he’s next to me, but at an angle; maybe in a second I’ll be able to see the driver. Suddenly the headlight jerks to the side and there’s another loud crash. As I feel the Audi busting apart at the rear, there’s an excruciating explosion of pain in my arm. The steering wheel is torn from my hands and turns wildly; I get pushed up against the door; then total chaos. Left is right, up is down, all the dimensions shift in a deafening cacophony of booming, crashing, pounding.

I’m just thinking that my senses might not withstand such a massive onslaught; then a gigantic black talon reaches out to grab me.

* * *

I emerge out of the nothingness into a shapeless interplay of dark colors with even darker ones. I try to move. Pain, everywhere. In my arm most of all. The first memories begin to flicker back to me. An accident. Chaos. There was this headlight behind me. The crash. Everything spinning …

My vision becomes clearer, my eyes adapt to the surroundings. I make out a shapeless, brighter surface. The airbag. It opened, and is now sagging over the steering wheel and dash. The windscreen isn’t there anymore; an icy wind blows away the last slivers of the fog in my head. I turn my head to the side. Everything’s twisted, dented. Like a Dalí painting.