I heard screams and a sickening crunch. I thought maybe I’d hit Carl after all, but my truck didn’t stop, didn’t change position. I kept my spin going, thinking maybe it was some sort of ploy, but then it happened again, a terrible crash and the sound of glass breaking. Somebody was hitting somebody else. Had Carl spun into one of the buildings?
I let off the gas and eased the brake, letting the truck roll to a stop. I turned on my wipers, but they just smeared everything. I didn’t want to get out if Carl was still spinning. He could run my ass right over.
I was facing the wrong way to see anything, my driver-side window looking out on the bank of trees at the far end of the lot. There was a lot of screaming and shouting, though, so I unbuckled and hoisted myself up to sit on the ledge of the open window.
And I saw it.
My sister’s little yellow car, battered on both sides. Carl’s truck, smashed in from front tire to back bumper.
People were running, slipping, falling in the mud. Redmond was on his cell phone, shouting.
Carl was still in his truck, holding his face, but moving.
I couldn’t see my sister in her car.
My head cleared instantly, and I slid through the window and out into the mud. I slid and stumbled, almost crawling through the deep trenches we’d made in our spins.
The driver-side door of Hannah’s car wouldn’t open. I kicked at it, but it was crumpled and locked into place. I scrambled to the other side, and when it wouldn’t open either, I started kicking the window. It was already cracked.
It was too dark to see into the car and the webbing in the glass blocked my view, but Hannah had to be in there. And she wasn’t coming out. My ears roared with the slamming of my heart.
“I’ve got a crowbar,” Redmond yelled at me and pushed me out of the way. About that time, somebody managed to drive their car close up and shine headlights on the scene. I wanted to peer in, but backed away as Redmond lifted the crowbar over the rear window.
The first blow cracked the glass into a brilliant web. The second made a hole, and he knocked the rest out.
“Careful going in,” somebody said as he crawled in the back.
“Jesus,” I heard him say, and I was about to follow him in when I heard the locks pop. I jerked open the passenger door.
Hannah lay crumpled against her door, sagging like a rag doll. I turned her head to me, but her eyes were closed. She didn’t move at all. Blood trickled out her ears.
“Wake up, Hannah! Talk to me!” I shouted just inches from her face.
“I’ve called for an ambulance,” Redmond said. He was kneeling in the backseat.
I frantically felt her throat for a pulse, but couldn’t feel anything. I leaned down, pressing my head against her chest.
I straight-out cried when I felt the slow steady drum of her heart. “She’s alive,” I choked out.
Her hand was limp and cool when I took it in mine. “You’ll be all right, baby sister. You’ll be fine.”
“Don’t move her,” Redmond said. “Let them figure out how to get her out the best way.”
I nodded, clutching her hand. A couple bits of glass were stuck in her hair and I picked them out. Everything around us was shattered, all the windows webbed with cracks, a few chinks out and scattered on the dash.
“Did Carl hit her?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Redmond said. “She drove straight out there for some reason. I guess he couldn’t see her. He slammed right into her, knocked her sideways, then hit her again on the turn.”
The airbag was deployed and hanging limp. “Only works once,” I said.
He nodded grimly.
The air burst with color as the first responders approached, their sirens a brutal whine. Redmond climbed back out the window, but I didn’t move, waiting for them to arrive.
“Take it easy,” I said when a man opened the driver’s door, jostling her.
“Is she conscious?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “But she has a pulse.”
He checked her himself and motioned for another guy to come forward with a stretcher. They took a board from it and slid part of it behind her. “Come on out so we can get her information,” they said to me.
I obeyed, ducking out of the car and hurrying around. A third guy was over by Carl’s truck, talking to him.
My vision went red then, and without even thinking, I mucked over to his door and pushed the guy out of the way.
“You motherfucker,” I said, and punched his bloody face.
The uniformed man grabbed my arms and dragged me down. Headlights flashed into my eyes as I hit the mud. I fought him off, but he was trained and strong.
There were more shouts and people rushed from all around. I saw more colored lights and felt the bite of something hard around my wrists. I managed to turn my head and saw a different uniform, dark blue, the police, I reckoned.
Shit.
“You’re not doing your sister any good like this,” a voice said, and after a minute, I recognized it and relaxed. Don Hopper had lived three doors down since I was born. He was a longtime police officer in Chattanooga.
“He…hit her,” I said through gritted teeth, turning my face to keep it out of the slick ripples of mud.