It was totaled. Completely and utterly totaled. The whole front fender was
crumpled in on itself, broken bits of headlight scattered across the road,
blinking and sparkling under the street lamp. Glass glittered from where
both the back rear and passenger side front, which had blown out on impact.
The sound of it still rang in my ears, that horrible crashing grinding
hitting bashing noise.
It was still raining lightly so that everything glistened from the silver
blue hood of my car to the grass and the slick black road beneath my fee. It
looked like a snake with a yellow stripe twisting away in either direction.
I reached up to wipe the blood away. It dripped from my forehead and nose
steadily, onto the wet pavement. My arm hurt. And my left calf had a good
two-inch gash in it. But I was walking, thinking, not fatally injured.
I heard a noise then, a human noise, and it reminded me. I looked through
the blood and rain across the double line to where the guard rail twisted
away. I could hear the sound of a radio, someone's voice, and a loud hiss as
I got closer.
It hurt to walk and it occurred to me maybe I was hurt worse than I thought
but I limped across the street and peered down into the darkness. The other
car lay on its roof in the gully below. I could smell gasoline and oil and
antifreeze. And as I looked closer I could see there was someone inside.
They were trying to get out.