Page 2 of Up In Flames
Since when did puke smell like gas?
Since… puke didn’t smell like gas.
My booze-addled brain realized that I was in deep shit. My puke didn’t smell like gas. The gas smelled like gas. There was probably a leak. I unbuckled my seatbelt, but there was nowhere to go. The door wasn’t going to open. The window was busted out, but the car had flipped, and the roof was crushed, making an easy escape out the window impossible.
I couldn’t make myself look at the other side of the car. Ron and Rita were both unconscious. My brain rejected the idea of anything else.
“Are you okay? Holy shit, you’re bleeding.”
I turned my head toward the sound of the voice. The kid couldn’t have been older than eighteen, and all three of him were as white as a ghost. “I called 911. Help is coming. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Holy shit, man.”
I tried to answer him, but when I opened my mouth, the only thing that came out was a keening moan. Agony crawled through me, digging its claws into every nerve in my body. I wasn’t sure what hurt because everything hurt. I took stock of my body and though it nearly made me scream, I could wiggle all ten toes.
I must have passed out again. Strobe lights of blue and red filled my vision. Sirens wailed up close and personal, splitting my skull open.
“Hey, hey, what’s your name?”
I couldn’t keep my eyes open. “Or—” I took a breath and tried again. “Oren. Reid. Oren Reid.”
“Oren, my name is Will and I’m a firefighter. We have to get you out of this car, but it’s going to take us a minute or two to get the roof off. Stay with me, okay? Can you tell me where you’re hurt? Any wounds besides your head?”
“Don’t know.” The booze was rapidly wearing off, being eaten up by all the adrenaline in my bloodstream, or maybe it was the absolute gravity of the situation that had me feeling far too sober to deal with this. I wanted to sleep. I wanted my bed. I wanted my friend to wake up and answer me.
“Ron?” I started to turn toward him, but the voice at the window called me back to him.
“Oren. Oren, can you look at me? We’ve almost got you out. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Lights strobed. The world tilted whenever I moved too much, so turning back toward the firefighter at the window was easier than looking at Ron.
“There you are.” The firefighter smiled at me. From ear to ear. “That’s good. We’ve almost got you out, okay?”
“I can move my toes.” It seemed important that he have this information. I didn’t tell him that I was still pretty drunk. Or that my head felt like an anvil had fallen on it. Or that every muscle in my body throbbed like I’d been through the spin cycle on a washing machine.
“That’s great news, Oren. We’ll have you up and out of here in a minute.”
The sounds were horrendous, and I closed my eyes to try and fight down the urge to puke again because of it.
The sky opened up and more lights pierced the small space. The roof was off and then hands were on me. Will wrapped my neck in a collar to stabilize it, he told me. Just in case. He made me look at him, and he started to explain how they were going to get me out of the car when all hell broke loose.
Fire appeared out of nowhere. Dark smoke billowed out from under the car. More yelling, this time with intent. Then suddenly water, and strong arms hoisted me up like I weighed nothing, and I was pulled from the car.
I clung to Will. Even though there were two guys who pulled me out, Will was the one who had talked to me. Who saved me. Who kept me from looking at Ron. Will was the one who sat me down in the back of a waiting ambulance.
“Oren, look at me,” Will said, and my gaze drifted over to him. His eyes were the bluest things I’ve ever seen. When I looked at him, he smiled at me, wide and bright. “There you are. How are you feeling? Do you know what happened?”
I shook my head.
“Did you lose consciousness at all?” an EMT asked me as they shone a light in my eyes.
I hissed when someone pressed a bandage to the side of my head.
I couldn’t make myself talk. Even when an officer came over and tried to question me, I couldn’t make my mouth move. Worry paralyzed me. He might have said something about catching up with me at the hospital. Everything was out of focus like I was still drunk. The throbbing in my skull increased with every beat of my heart but, I couldn’t look away.
I watched the wreckage. Stared as more men pulled two unmoving figures from the car before it was fully engulfed in flames. Will moved and blocked my view after that. He stood by me as the EMTs worked on me. Examined my head. My body.
I didn’t want to leave the scene. I wanted to know about Ron and Rita.
“He’s going into shock.” A faraway voice said. Everyone around me seemed to move at warp speed after that. I was loaded up into the back of the ambulance.
