Write One Page Per Day – 80/365 – March 21, 2016

#AmWriting #Fiction #IndieAuthor

A chill was in the air as I began my journey to work. The northeast was unusually cold this year, but I had a job to do, and I would get there, with or without a car. The road I lived on was gravel until it reached the main road, and was hell on my feet every time I walked down it due to the heavy backpack I kept with me everywhere I went.

Turning onto the main road I stuck to the shoulder because sidewalks were only a luxury afforded to those that lived close to downtown or in a city. The morning traffic was speeding by at their usual anxiety-inducing rate when I heard the squeal of tires from behind me. I turned just in time to see a car fly past me, only narrowly missing me, as it jumped the ditch and collided with a tree.

It took an instant for me to drop my bag and run through the snow toward the car. I heard other cars stop while still others continued past, either oblivious to what had happened, or not caring enough to stop. Smoke was billowing from under the car against the tree, which told me that I had to get to whoever was in it fast to pull them out before it erupted in flames.

I reached the door to the car, and thankfully the impact had not wedged it closed. There was an older gentleman in the driver’s seat unconscious amid the broken glass and the deployed airbag. I pulled my pocket knife and cut his seat beat to save time getting him from the vehicle as smoke began to fill the car as well.

I pulled him from the car, positioning him on my shoulders as I carried him back toward the road, trying to get away from the car that was now quickly becoming enveloped in flames. I could hear the sirens of the fire truck on its way from the station down the road.

As I reached the ditch, the car exploded, sending out a shockwave and there was a sharp pain on the bottom right side of my back as my legs gave out. The man rolled off of my shoulders into the snow as I lay there, unable to get back to my feet. Onlookers were beginning to congregate at the road side, talking loudly, but I couldn’t hear them through my pain.

The man began moving slightly, which brought my attention to him.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I missed.” He replied before his eyes went blank.

The pain in my back, and the cold of the snow, was nothing compared to the feeling of dread I felt wash over me as I processed his words and looked into his dead eyes.

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