A Curve in the Road(2)

But Zack will head off to university next year, and then it will just be Alan and me. I can’t imagine what our lives will be like without Zack living at home. There are always activities to work into our busy schedules. There’s noise, music, and laughter when Zack’s friends come over. The house is going to be shockingly quiet.

Boy, oh boy. These solitary drives home from Lunenburg make me think too much. I remind myself that college is a whole year away.

Winston’s heavy sigh in the back seat pulls me out of my reverie. I glance over my shoulder to see him curled up on his woolly blanket with his eyes closed, which makes me feel sleepy because I worked late in the OR again last night.

I turn on the radio to help me stay awake, crack a window to let in the chilly air, and shake my head as if to clear it. I check the dashboard clock. It’s only seven, so I have just enough time to make it home, drop Winston off, and reach the hockey rink before the game starts at eight fifteen.

I flick my blinker on and merge onto the main highway, switching to cruise control and tuning in to a classic rock station.

It all happens in an instant, so fast I don’t have time to think.

An oncoming vehicle crosses the center line, and I’m blinded by headlights. Adrenaline sizzles through my veins. Instinctively, I wrench the steering wheel to the right to swerve around the oncoming car, but it’s too late. It clips my back end with a thunderous crash of steel against steel and sends my SUV spinning like a top, as if I’m on a sheet of ice.

My head snaps to the left. I shut my eyes and hang on for dear life as my car whirls around in dizzying circles. Winston yelps as he’s tossed about in the back seat. Suddenly, we catapult into the air. The vehicle flips over the edge of the highway, and then we bounce like a ball—crashing and smashing—as we tumble down the embankment.

Something strikes me in the side of the head, and I feel multiple slashes cutting the flesh on my cheeks. I realize it’s Winston, who yelps as he’s thrown back toward the rear.

I want to hold on to him, to keep him safe in my arms, but there’s nothing I can do. It’s all happening so fast. All I can do is grip the steering wheel with both hands while the world spins in circles in front of my eyes and glass shatters all around me.

We crash hard against something—the bottom of a ravine?—and then everything goes quiet, except for the pounding of my heart as it hammers against my rib cage.

Panic overtakes me. My eyes fly open. It’s pitch-dark outside, but my headlights are shining two steady beams into the shifting mist, and the dashboard is brightly lit. I blink repeatedly and realize blood has pooled on my eyelashes. I wipe it away with the back of my hand.

Think, Abbie. What do you need to do?

An alarm has been beeping since we came to a halt, as if it’s confused and wants me to fasten my seat belt. Or is there some other urgent problem? Is the engine about to explode? I quickly shut off the ignition. I am enveloped by darkness.

With another rush of anxiety, I fumble for the red button on my seat belt, desperate to escape, but my hands are shaking so violently I can’t release it. I shut my eyes and pause, take a few deep breaths, then try a second time.

Click.

The seat belt comes loose, and I think—for one precious second—that I am free to move, but I’m not. My legs are stuck. I’m trapped.

I fight to break loose, but I’m pinned under the dash. The roof is pressing painfully on the top of my head, and I can’t free myself. I try to open the door, but it’s dented and won’t budge.

My heart pounds faster. I feel light-headed, and I’m certain I’m about to pass out from shock and fear.

I shut my eyes again and fight to remain calm. Breathe. One thousand one, one thousand two . . .

“Help . . . ,” I whisper in a trembling voice.

I realize I don’t hear Winston and turn my head to the side. “Winston? Are you okay?”

No response. I twist uncomfortably, struggling to see into the back seat. There’s no sign of my dog anywhere, and the rear window is completely blown out.

“Winston!” I shout. “Winston!”

I can’t make out anything in the darkness, and I worry that he’s injured or dead, lying somewhere outside the vehicle. I fight wildly to free myself, but it’s hopeless.

I reach frantically to find my purse on the seat beside me to locate my cell phone and call for help, but the seat is empty. Everything’s flown out the windows.

Then I hear sirens in the distance, and I exhale sharply with relief. Thank heavens. Help is on the way.

I let my head fall back on the headrest and try to calm my racing heart.

If only I had my phone to call Alan. It’s all I can think about as I wipe blood from my forehead. Alan, I just want to hear your voice . . . to hear you tell me that everything’s going to be okay . . .





CHAPTER TWO

“Try and stay calm,” a young firefighter says as he removes a glove and takes hold of my hand through the driver’s-side window. It has no glass left in it. “We’re gonna get you out of here. What’s your name?”

“Abbie. Abbie MacIntyre.”

“Hi, Abbie,” he says. “I’m Troy. Everything’s going to be fine now.”

“Have you seen my dog?” I ask. “He was with me in the car, but he must have been thrown out the back window.”