Novelist and more.
This is another excerpt of the New Religion storyline.
Andrew Baxter, going home on a snow-covered highway, has just witnessed a car in the oncoming lane begin to drift…..
“Hey, hey, wake up.” He mumbled.
The car drifted back to the left.
Thankfully there were no cars in either direction but that one and his.
The car drifted back to the right.
“Wake up, wake up you dumb-“
The car hit some black ice, swerved to the left, spun around twice, went off the embankment and flipped end over end, disappearing into a deep recess by the road, debris skating down the road to his left.
Andrew didn’t pause before he shifted the Jeep into four-wheel drive and drove over the heavily snow-covered divide and made a U-turn back toward the accident.
He reached for his cell phone but the battery was dead and he had left his charger at home.
He searched the long straight distance of the night road, but no fellow drivers were seen.
He was cursing his luck having left his walking leg at home.
He put on the hazard lights, pulled off the side of the road, kicked the door open and ran to the back of the Jeep, his metallic, curved, prosthetic leg slipping on ice.
He popped open the back, grabbed a couple of roadside flares, lit them and tossed them into the road and behind his Jeep. Then he pulled out his first aid kit, a professional one, not a rinky-dink one and headed toward the ravine.
The car was steaming; he scanned for a safe way down and saw there was no good way down.
He tied the kit around his prosthetic hand, turned on his left side, sat down and began a slow slide toward the car.
A woman began screaming.
A small fire flared underneath the turned-over chassis in the engine.
He pushed himself against the snow and let go, sliding quickly down the icy incline.
He thumped to a halt as the fire began to build.
He untied the kit and left it where it was as he ran, bounced and skipped to the car.
His eyes blurred.
“Not now, not now!” he mumbled as the cursed flashback began.
The Humvee was upside down pressed against the building. Johnson and Levin were still inside; he dragged his damaged leg behind him after the IED had thrown him from the side as they were inspecting a vehicle. The first IED had turned the Gunny to pink mist. The second one had tossed Andrew and the Humvee he was taking cover behind, in opposite directions.
He pressed his right hand down and recoiled in blinding pain.
His hand was only a thumb and connective tissue.
He ignored his wounds and crawled to help his fallen comrades.
She was screaming from the Humvee.
The woman’s screams brought him back to the present.
He reached the vehicle and the heat was building, the interior was crushed, a bloodstained left arm waved in the light from the fire.
“I’m here, I’m here! I’ve got you!” he screamed.
He reached for the woman’s arm and pulled Johnson’s disconnected gloved left arm from the Humvee.
“No! It’s not real!” he screamed.
The fire grew hotter and closer.
The woman gripped his left hand, she wouldn’t budge.
He looked under to see how badly she was pinned.
Levin’s smashed and leaking skull stared back at him.
“Go away!” he screamed.
The fire crackled by his head as she continued screaming.
He stood, braced himself against the car realizing it was rocking slightly away from him.
He pushed with all his might, the prosthetic hand popped and he readjusted above his wrist. He couldn’t get any leverage because of the ground and the construction of his leg.
“Someone! Help me!” he screamed over his shoulder.
The flames flared in front of his face and crept down the snow toward him from some leaking tube from the engine.
The woman screamed louder.
“I won’t leave you! Someone! Help!” his throat cracked from screaming.
He felt a hand on his back.
To be continued…