A Twist of Fate by T. Gephart Read Free Book Online

light
pole, narrowly missing my little Honda Civic. Glass shattered from
the windscreen and side window, metal crumbled like aluminium foil.
The horn of the SUV was still sounding and I think I heard
screaming. I was paralysed by shock. I sat for a moment, unable to
move, silently thanking whatever higher power had been in charge of
my narrow escape. I looked around half expecting to see someone,
anyone, come to help, but there was no one. We were alone.
    I unhooked my
seat belt and opened the car door, the rain pelted down, drenching
me within seconds of being outside of my car. I ran over to the SUV
which showed no signs of life, hoping that I would be able to offer
some kind of assistance. I slipped on the wet road, grabbing the
driver’s side handle to stop myself from falling heavily on my ass.
Aggghhhhhh. Pain seared me as I realised that I had jarred my
shoulder.
    “Hello... are
you ok?” my voice was barely audible over the rain and the horn. I
wrenched at the door and pulled it open to see the driver slumped
over the exploded air bag.
    “Ugghhhhhhhhhh,” the male driver mumbled incoherently. I leveraged
my body into the car slightly so I could see if there was anyone
else in the vehicle. I pushed down the airbag and looked over at
the side of the car that had taken the brunt of the impact and
noticed there was a male passenger who was not moving. Blood
stained the window and upholstery. FUCK.
    “Ughhhhhhhhh”
the driver mumbled again. I reached down into my pocket to grab my
mobile phone... Shit, where is it?! FUCK. It must still be in the
car. I glanced over at my Civic, the ignition was still running,
lights on. I needed to make a decision and I needed to make it
fast.
    Adrenaline
kicked in as I pulled open the back passenger door and climbed into
the mangled mass of metal. “Can you hear me?” I reached across from
my position in the back seat to gently shake the passenger’s
shoulders. No response. By this stage the driver had regained a
semblance of alertness and had started screaming. “Mike,
Mike...Wake up dude... MIKE...WAKE UP!”
    “Hey, it’s
ok...calm down... can you move at all?” I asked the driver, who
nodded as he awkwardly climbed out of the car. I contorted my body
over the seat so that I was now almost sitting in “Mike’s” lap. I
placed my ear to his chest. He wasn’t breathing. Shit. “GRAB MY
PHONE OUT OF THE CAR AND DIAL 000 TELL THEM WE NEED A MICA
AMBULANCE NOW” I shouted to the driver who clung to his car door.
“DO IT” I yelled not recognising the voice coming out of my mouth
urging the driver into action as he took off into the direction of
my car. Using my body as leverage, I pulled Mike out of the car. I
knew he might have a spinal injury but I also knew his brain was
deprived of oxygen and this was my first priority.
    The driver
rushed back to Mike and I, talking to the paramedic on my phone.
“Help me get him onto his back, he’s not breathing” I commanded. He
shoved the phone into his mouth so his hands were free and he
helped me lower Mike onto the hard, wet road. Instinctively I
started pumping his chest. C’mon Mike... C’mon... I kept pumping as
I felt his ribs crack beneath my palms. Mike was probably in his
late twenties or early thirties and, if not battered and barely
hanging onto life, would have been an attractive man. He looked
athletic, not the kind of body that worked out, more like the kind
of body who played sport. He had broad shoulders and was around
5’11”. He had ash blond hair which waved and kinked at the back and
was now matted with blood. His body, which would have otherwise
been strong and agile, lay motionless except for the recoil to my
compressions. A small but definite cough came from Mike’s throat so
I stopped pumping so I could listen. His breathing was shallow but
present so I rolled him onto his side. I scanned the rest of his
body and noticed blood was pouring out of his upper thigh. I had
nothing to staunch the flow