Mango Crush

by Bill H Myers

  “I won't think less of you if you don't go in. I can go get the golf cart and drive you and your lady friend back to the office, and you can be on your way.”

  I nodded, but I'd already made up my mind. I needed to go in and look around. It had to be done.

  Instead of just climbing in, I tried to remember where Bob was when we got hit. He had been sitting up front with me when we pulled into the Walmart parking lot. But while I was putting the groceries up, he moved to the couch behind the driver's seat. I was pretty sure that's where he was when the Vette crashed into us.

  With most of the driver's side wall missing, I could see that the couch was gone as well as the wall on the other side. The ceiling had collapsed onto the floor, hiding whatever was underneath.

  The Corvette had hit us six feet off the ground, just above the couch. If Bob had been sitting there, there wouldn’t be much chance he survived.

  I didn't want to find his remains in the rubble, but I had to look. I wanted to believe he had escaped and was still alive, but I needed to be sure.

  Since the front section of the motorhome was the least damaged, I started there. The back of the driver's compartment had been sheared off, leaving just an open shell leading to the front seats.

  I didn't have to worry about getting the mangled driver's door open. I could step in behind it, where the sidewall and couch had once been.

  I stepped in, and the front half of the motorhome moved under my weight. I quickly stepped back out and looked over at Rooster.

  He pointed to the glass littering the floor and said, “Don't worry about the wreck moving a bit. It ain't going nowhere. It's the broken glass that’ll get you. The front window might have been safety glass, but the side windows weren't. When they shattered, they sprayed glass all over. You'll need to watch your step and be careful where you put your hands.”

  I nodded and stepped back into the front half of the wreck. This time it didn't move, but the broken glass crunched under my shoes. Looking around, I could see glass on the dash, seats, and the floor.

  Thinking about what it was like right before the wreck, I remembered the only things of value in the driver's area had been my wallet, my phone, and my insurance and registration that I kept in an envelope in the console.

  My wallet and the burner phone had been recovered by the rescue team but not my primary phone. I needed to find it. It had my contact list, lots of photos, and my call history. If I could find the phone, I could check my messages and let people know I was still alive.

  Since the cab area had the least amount of damage, and since that's where I last saw my phone and the registration papers, I decided to start my search there.

  I took another step; more glass crunched under my feet. I put my hand on what remained of the cab wall but immediately regretted it. A sliver of glass dug into the palm of my hand. The cut wasn't deep, but it stung.

  I continued moving into the cab area. Another step, more broken glass crunching under my feet. I reached for the back of the driver's seat but stopped when I heard Rooster say, “Don't touch that. It's full of glass.”

  He was right. I could see tiny pieces of glass glistening in the light coming through the missing roof. I turned to thank him, and he said, “Come out of there.”

  I shook my head; I wasn't leaving until I found what I was looking for.

  Apparently, Rooster wasn't the kind of guy who took “no” for an answer. He said, “Don't be a fool. Come back out here. I’ve got something you’ll want.”

  I looked back to see him holding a pair of oil and mud-stained work gloves. “They ain't pretty, but they'll keep your fingers from being sliced up.”

  He leaned into the wreck and held the gloves out toward me. I took them, thanked him, and put them on. They were soaked with oil and crusty with mud. But they fit and were heavy enough to keep my hands from getting cut.

  From behind me, Abby said, “Walker, be careful. There's nothing in there worth getting hurt for.”

  I shook my head. “I won't know until I look.”

  I turned back toward the front and worked my way through the debris to squeeze between the driver's and passenger's seat. The console over the engine cover was directly in front of me.

  I cleared away the broken glass from the top and reached into what would have been a glove compartment. I was hoping the envelope with my registration and insurance was still there.

  It was. The envelope had gotten wet, probably from the water the fire crew had sprayed while the RV was burning. But the papers inside were still intact.

  I made my way back out and handed the wet envelope to Abby. “Hold on to this. It's got my insurance in it.”

  She took it from me and asked, “Can we leave now?”

  “No, I'm going back in. I want to see if I can find my phone.”

  I climbed in, made my way back up to between the driver's and passenger seats and looked around. I was hoping finding my phone would be just as easy as finding the registration. When driving, I keep the phone in the top slot of the console. Maybe it was still there.

  I checked and came up empty. No phone, just a lot of broken glass.

  I remembered they said the motorhome had been knocked over on its side when the car hit it. Everything loose would have slid over to the passenger side. My phone included.

  It most likely fell out of the console, dropped to the floor, and slid under the passenger seat.

  Since I was already standing next to it, I bent over to take a look. I saw a lot of broken glass, a few coins, but no phone.

  That meant it was probably in the foot well, the space between the door and the passenger seat.

  If that’s where it had landed, it would be a problem. When the motorhome tipped over and slammed into the pavement, it pushed the passenger seat tight up against the passenger door. That made it impossible to slide my hand from the seat cushion down into the foot well. I had to figure out a different way.

  If I could get the passenger door open, it would be easy to get into it. But there was no way to open it from the inside. The collapsed passenger seat blocked access to the door handle. I looked around trying to see if there was anything else worth recovering. But there wasn't. Just more broken glass.

  I climbed back out of the motorhome and walked over to the passenger side. The window was missing, and the door frame was bent. The exterior door handle was missing as well, probably crushed by the weight of the motorhome when it tipped onto the pavement.

  I wasn't giving up though. I reached in through the broken window and tried the inside handle. But I couldn’t get to it. The remains of the passenger seat were wedged up against it.

  With the back half of the motorhome gone from just behind the passenger seat, I figured I could climb back in and reach into the foot well from behind the seat. It would be tight, but I was pretty sure I could do it. All I'd have to do was squeeze my arm between the seat and the door then reach down into the foot well to see if anything were there.

  With all the broken glass, it wasn't something I wanted to do. But if that's what it took to find my phone, I was going to give it a try.

  I went back into the wreck and squatted down close to the back of the passenger seat. I put my hand between the door and the seat and shoved my arm in as far as it would go. It was a tight fit; I could feel the hard surface of the door along with tiny slivers of glass tearing at my skin. Still, I had gotten my arm far enough in so that I could reach into the foot well.

  Not being able to see what was in it, I had to use my hand to feel my way around. It was packed with debris that hadn't been bolted down at the time of the accident. A plastic water bottle, a few candy wrappers, lots of coins, and plenty of broken glass.

  I touched every solid object hoping one of them would be my phone. But no luck.

  Pushing my hand deeper through the broken glass, I reached a new layer of debris. It was there that I felt the phone. I wrapped my fingers around it and held firm as I pulled my arm out from the impossib
ly tight space.

  I turned to Abby and showed her what I'd found. Instead of smiling, she frowned and walked over to me. She took the phone then pointed at my arm. It was covered in blood.

  I hadn't felt the cuts while I was digging through the debris, but there was no doubt they were the result of broken glass.

  Fortunately, none looked too deep. I wiped my arm on my shirt and held it out so Abby could get a closer look. She said, “They're not as bad as I thought they'd be, but you need to be careful in there. Those cuts could get infected.”

  She was right. With all the debris in the motorhome, including the spilled contents of the toilet and black tank, it would be easy for the open wounds on my arm to rub against contaminated surfaces.

  Abby held up my phone. “Was it worth the effort? It's just a phone and it's broken.”

  I could see the glass on the front was shattered. The phone would be useless, but the SIM card, which identified the phone on the network, would make it easier to get a replacement.

  I turned back to the wreck and climbed in. There was a lump in front of the passenger seat under the floor mat and I wanted to see what it was. I went to the mat and lifted it, hoping the lump below wasn't the remains of Bob.

  It wasn't. It was my GPS. The expensive one made for RVs. It had cost more than three hundred dollars, and, like the phone, the display screen was shattered. The frame was bent, and you could see damaged wires and circuits inside. There was no doubt it was ruined. So I left it.

  I climbed back out of the motorhome where Abby was waiting. She looked worried. “You ready to take a break?”

  I was.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The back side of the motorhome fared far worse than the front. Most of the walls were missing, as was the ceiling. When the force of the collision knocked the RV onto its side, just about everything inside came loose or was consumed in the fire.

  Stepping into the gaping hole where there once had been a couch, I gingerly made my way to the back, being careful not to step on sharp metal or slip on the foam that had been laid down to smother the fire.

  When I reached what had once been the bathroom, I could see that when the motorhome went over, the toilet dumped its contents onto the bedroom wall, which then fell onto the bed. Bob's litter box, which had been in the shower stall, had dumped its contents onto the remnants of the hall.

  The bedroom wall and door had fallen onto the bed's mattress. My closet, where I kept my clothes, had partially collapsed as well. The clothes that had been neatly hanging were now on the floor, soaking wet from a combination of fire suppression foam and the contents of the toilet and litter box.

  There wasn't much hope I would find anything salvageable in there. But I had to look because that's where I stored my laptop and tablet.

  The most important thing I needed to find was the fireproof safe, which I kept under the bed platform. It probably survived the wreck but was covered with what was left of the bathroom and bedroom walls. To get to it, I'd have to clear the debris from the bed, including the mattress.

  I didn't want to be doing this with the open cuts on my arms. I needed to cover them so they wouldn't get infected. Looking in the remains of my closet, I saw an Eddie Bauer rain jacket, something I'd had for years. It was made of Gore-Tex, and while it had gotten wet, the inside was still dry.

  I grabbed the jacket and backed out of the wreck.

  Abby was waiting for me with the same question she had asked before. “Are you ready to take a break?”

  I was. But I wasn't going to. Not yet.

  She pointed at the jacket. “What are you going to do with that?”

  I smiled and said, “I'm going to put it on before I go back in. It'll protect my arms.”

  She nodded but didn't say anything.

  I put on the jacket and started to climb back into the wreck then stopped. I turned to Abby and Rooster. “I'm going to try to get to my lock box. It's under the bed. To get to it, I have to move a lot of junk out of the way. Including the mattress.

  “There's not really any place to put it inside, so I'll be bringing everything up here and dumping it on the ground. You might want to stand back.”

  Abby moved but Rooster didn't. Instead, he said, “Anything you dump in the yard has to go back inside the wreck. No way you're leaving a mess for me to clean up.”

  “No problem. I'll clean it up before I go.”

  I climbed back into the wreck and made my way to the remains of the bedroom. I looked at the debris and decided the best thing to do was to start at the top of the pile and take everything out.

  I cleared a path from the bedroom to the gaping hole in the middle of the wreck. It would give me a way to haul the debris to the outside without having to step over broken furniture.

  The collapsed bathroom walls were on top of the bed, so I moved them first. Then I cleared away the remains of the splintered bedroom door. Like the walls, I took it outside and dumped it onto the debris pile. I kept it close to the motorhome so that getting it all back in wouldn’t be too much work.

  It took about thirty minutes of digging and hauling before I finally got to the mattress. It was Bob's favorite place to nap. He could lie there, next to my pillow, and when the window shades were up, let the sunshine warm his bones.

  I was relieved to see there was no Bob and no blood on the bed. If he had been back there when the Vette hit us, he had somehow gotten away.

  I pulled the soggy mattress off the bed and pushed it out of my way. My head was pounding, and I was feeling a bit dizzy. Too much work, too little food, too soon after leaving the hospital. I needed to take a break.

  I went back outside and saw Abby standing alone.

  “Where's Rooster?”

  She pointed to the office. “He said he had another wreck to work. He wanted me to stay here and make sure you didn't get hurt. How's it going in there?”

  I was hot, sweaty and tired. I needed to sit in the shade and cool down. Most of the dizziness had gone away, or maybe it hadn't, and I was just getting used to it. Either way, it didn't bother me as much as it had before.

  I sat on the edge of the wreck and wiped the sweat off my brow with a gloved hand.

  “I bet you could use some water. Stay here; I'll see if they have any in the office. Don't go back in the wreck though. Not until I come back.”

  I nodded. “Don't worry. I won't. If you see a candy bar in there, get it for me. I need the energy.”

  She turned and headed to the office.

  A few minutes later, she returned carrying a bottle of cold water, a Snickers bar, and a wet paper towel. She handed me the towel and said, “Pull off the gloves and wipe your hands. Then wipe the grease off your face.”

  I did as she said, took off my gloves and used the paper towel to wipe my hands and face. The wet towel felt good.

  She gave me the water, and I took a long drink. Then I held out my hand and said, “Candy please.”

  She smiled and handed me the Snickers bar.

  While I was crunching on it, she asked, “Anything else I can do for you?”

  I thought for a moment then pointed back to the wreck, “Yeah, you can find out who did this. Find out who crashed into me and destroyed everything I owned.

  “I want them to pay.”

  She nodded and said, “I'm working on it.”

  Her answer surprised me. “You're working on finding the other driver? Any leads?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing solid yet. But I'm not giving up. I need to follow up on a few things. But don't get your hopes up. The cops couldn't ID the driver, and I may not be able to either. But like I said, I'm working on it.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The cold water and candy bar, along with the break and the thought that I was near the end of what needed to be done, gave me the energy to go back in.

  I pulled on the gloves, climbed back into the wreck and headed to what was left of the bedroom. I had cleared away most of the debris and had a clear
view of the plywood platform that had supported the mattress. Like the rear bed in most motorhomes, the platform was hinged and could be lifted and held in place by gas-filled struts. I was hoping the hinges and struts weren't damaged in the wreck.

  I went to the bed, grabbed the platform with both hands, and lifted. To my surprise, it went up easily. The struts held it in place.

  Not wanting to waste time, I dug through the linens and blankets I kept stored under the bed until I reached the fireproof safe. Just as I had left it, it was unopened with the key still in the lock. I didn't bother checking the contents. I'd do that later.

  I grabbed the heavy safe using the handle, lugged it outside and set it on the ground in front of Abby. I smiled and said, “Almost done. Just one more thing to check.”

  I went back in and headed to what was left of the bedroom closet. Everything that had once been on shelves or hanging on the clothes rod was now a wet jumbled mass on the floor. I wasn't worried about the clothes; I could replace them. But I wanted to find my computer.

  Chances were good that it would have been damaged in the wreck, but the solid-state drive in it should have survived. If I could find the computer, I could take it home, pull the SSD and connect it to another computer to retrieve all my files.

  Digging through the pile at the bottom of the closet, I found a pillowcase and decided to stuff it with the clothes that I felt were worth keeping. Jeans, a few shirts, and a heavy coat. Near the bottom of the wet mess, I found my computer.

  As expected, the screen was shattered. I'd check later to see if the SSD survived. I grabbed the laptop, put it in the pillowcase with the clothes and took one last look around, making sure I hadn't left anything important behind. I hadn't found Bob or his remains, which gave me hope that he had somehow survived the crash.

  Just as I started to leave, I remembered I needed to find my health insurance card. It had been in the top drawer of the nightstand on the left side of the bed along with a few other important documents.

  The nightstand was heavily damaged by the water from the toilet and holding tanks but was still standing. I tried to open the top drawer, but it was jammed shut. Not wanting to leave without retrieving the documents, I looked around for something I could use to lever the drawer open.