The Passenger

by Jacqueline Druga

  He wasn’t feeling well, he was off, and Jonas thought it best, stranger or not, to have someone in the car with him.

  He started the ignition, buckled up and pulled from the parking lot.

  The road seemed even more winding than when Jonas first had driven to the bar. It was dark, now he was nervous. His hand gripped and released the wheel, sweat formed on his forehead and the car felt like it was floating. Everything was floating.

  Two miles.

  Two miles until the next road, Jonas told himself.

  He knew he was driving slowly; he would have driven that way even if he felt fine.

  It was as if he held his breath the whole ride on the snake-like road, even pausing for a second before turning on to the road that would lead to the highway.

  “Are you alright?” David asked.

  “Um … yeah. Just still mad about tonight.”

  “And you’re still mad about the fight?”

  “Just everything. It was a good night, we sounded great. I’m in the band.”

  “I saw the guitar.”

  Jonas nodded. “Yeah, we uh, were uh …” He stammered his words, slowed down to a crawl until he saw the exit for the highway.

  “You were what?”

  Think, Jonas, think. Keep talking to this guy. The hotel isn’t that far. Almost there.

  “We were playing great. The crowd loved us, and this guy just brought it all down.”

  “How?”

  “By fighting with me. Picking a fight. Getting me mad.”

  “So, he picked a fight with you, you got mad, it escalated into a physical fight, and it was him who ruined the night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don't you think you could have turned the other cheek?” David suggested.

  “I did and he punched it.”

  David chuckled. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it went.”

  “Were you there?”

  “I’ve been there. I’m in this car because of it. Look,” David said “Our actions and reactions cause outcomes. They may not be the outcomes we may have wanted or imagined. Denying it isn’t the answer. Admitting the truth is the first step to righting a wrong and to setting you on a new path.”

  Jonas blinked hard, his eyes felt heavy and David’s words suddenly had an echo.

  “Are you all right?”

  Jonas shook his head. “I’m not drunk, I swear, I didn’t drink enough. I feel like it though.”

  “Why don’t you pull over and let me take the wheel?”

  “I think I—”

  “Jonas! Deer!”

  Crash.

  The animal was a blur as it slammed onto the hood of the car then into the driver’s side of the windshield. Even in his best state, Jonas wouldn’t have had time to react. Then again, had he been in a good state, he would have seen that deer.

  The instinct to hit the brakes came too late, Jonas pushed his foot down to the peddle and jerked the wheel.

  The car slammed into something else. It was a hard hit, jolting his head against the driver’s window.

  He didn’t know what it was he hit nor was there time to think about it. It was violent, sending the car into a three-sixty tailspin before slamming again and flipping the car.

  That was when it seemed to happen in slow motion.

  Jonas had zero control as the car rolled. He felt the shattered glass hit against his face like a hard rain, and visions of his parents flashed before his eyes as the car stopped rolling and turned upside down, it then sailed airborne over the embankment.

  A calm feeling overcame him, his body went limp and he thought, ‘This is it. Nothing I can do.’

  There was no bracing for impact, he didn’t know when that would occur. It didn’t matter anyhow. Thoughts of his family suddenly were blurry, then gone as the car crashed down hard, roof first.

  For a single split second, Jonas felt it and then … blackness.

  FOUR

  It sounded like someone dropped something, a loud bang, that jolted Grant awake after he finally started drifting into sleep. He knew there wasn’t a sound, he didn’t hear anything. Grant was well aware of the sensation. It was a hypnagogic sound. Usually, he had them when he was stressed and decided to read something intense. It didn’t happen often, typically it was a voice or music. He learned the term when he first started teaching history at the community college. Thankfully, the older he got, the less it happened. He should have expected it on this night.

  Cate stressing made him feel stress; he just didn’t show it.

  The tea worked on her. Although it didn’t ease her mind. Grant could tell by the way she slept. On her side, one hand rolled to a fist just under her cheek, the other clutching the covers as if she expected to wake and fling them off at any moment.

  His eBook reader had slid down from his chest. He was glad he didn’t fling it across the room when he sat up. Grant preferred the feel of a book in his hands, but being in his late fifties, even glasses at night didn’t make those tiny words any bigger or brighter.

  After placing his reader on the nightstand, Grant slowly got out of bed so as not to wake Cate. He slid into his slippers and made his way across the bedroom. He was thirsty and he could get a drink of water from the bathroom, but Grant wanted juice.

  In the dark kitchen he grabbed a glass and opened the fridge. He poured some into the glass, drank it quickly, then poured some more. That was when he saw Cate’s phone on the counter connected to the charger.

  Bringing the glass to his lips, he reached down and touched the screen.

  No new messages.

  Jonas hadn’t replied.

  A lump formed in his stomach; one he had felt before. It caused instant nausea. Grant had to tell himself to stop, just stop. Jonas was a grown man. He was fine.

  Even though he thought he couldn’t help but worry just a tad and feel bad about the last time he talked to his son, or rather, argued with him.

  It happened not long before he left for his gig.

  “No,” Grant told Jonas, as they stood in the driveway right outside the house. “No.”

  “Are you serious?” Jonas hissed. “You’re not letting me borrow your truck?”

  “No, Jonas, I’m not.”

  “I have a gig.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s three hours away.”

  “I know,” Grant said.

  “I walked all the way over here for your truck, you told me I could take it,” Jonas barked. “You think maybe you could have told me before I walked here that I couldn’t. I talked to you on the phone.”

  “And on the phone, I couldn’t smell the alcohol on your breath.”

  Jonas huffed. “Oh, come on, it was one beer. I’m not drunk.”

  Grant tried to stay calm and reasonable. “The last time I lent you my truck for a gig, you told me you got drunk.”

  “And I said I was sorry.”

  “I know.” Grant nodded. “You promised me, you promised you wouldn’t drink and drive.”

  “It was one beer.”

  “It’s still drinking and driving.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “No, you’re ridiculous, Jonas. It’s two in the afternoon.”

  Jonas flung out his hand and stepped back. “I’m done.”

  “Wait, how about this,” Grant spoke, walking to his son. “Why don’t I take you? I’d love to see you play. Maybe I can get up and jam with you guys. We’ll make a guys’ weekend out of it. What do you say?”

  Jonas laughed. “I don’t want you there, Dad. I don’t want you up on stage.”

  “Then … then I won’t go. I’ll only drive you.”

  “Forget about it.”

  “Jonas, you have to go to your gig.”

  “Oh, I’m going.” Jonas stepped away.

  “How are you going to get there?’

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Jonas …”

  “I said,” he spat angrily. “Don’t worry about
it. I’m not your problem anymore.”

  It was a tough love card Grant didn’t like playing. He wavered a little but held tight. Now, he regretted it some. Finishing his juice, Grant started to go back to bed and stopped.

  Maybe he was worrying too much or Cate was getting into his head, but Grant lifted her phone and immediately dialed Jonas.

  He expected his son to answer the phone with irritation, what he didn’t expect was for it to go directly to voicemail.

  He stared for a second at the phone but didn’t leave a message.

  It was after three in the morning, more than likely Jonas’ phone was dead.

  He was fine.

  He felt a brief flutter of concern, but Grant tucked it away and went to bed.

  FIVE

  He knew he was in some sort of accident, but Jonas just didn’t know how or why it happened. He tried to think, but it was a blank. He didn’t feel any pain, none at all, maybe it was the shock. The only discomfort he had was when he blinked his eyes. He could feel the shards of glass across his lashes.

  The car was upside down and Jonas was on his stomach, out of his seat. His belt was undone, he didn’t even remember unlocking it. His first awareness after the accident was this moment.

  He could feel his eyes getting heavy and a strange pressure in his head. His vision blurred some. He could smell something. Was something burning? Fuel? He didn’t know. But Jonas was aware he had to get out of the car. The busted windshield would be his exit.

  He could feel himself fading, but he knew he had to fight it.

  Preparing to belly crawl out of the car, it hit him.

  The man that got in the car with him.

  Unless he was remembering wrong, there was a man.

  Jonas couldn’t recall his name. Dan, Devon, David … It was something like that.

  Was he all right? Hurt?

  Quickly, Jonas turned his head to the passenger seat.

  It was empty.

  Fading …

  Where did he go? Did he get out? The door wasn’t open.

  Jonas didn’t assume the man crawled out, his first assumption was he was thrown, and Jonas panicked.

  Thinking, ‘I have to get out. I have to get out’, Jonas reached forward and lifted his chest.

  Fading ….

  Blackness.

  A sensational burning pain in his temple and instant headache caused Jonas to grunt loudly and open his eyes.

  Now he was on his back, outside in the grass. He rolled to his side, wincing as another pain shot through his ribs. The wrecked car was twenty feet from him. He could see the small amount of dancing flames coming from where the engine would be. They were blue, not orange.

  How did he get to the grass?

  He only vaguely remembered being in the car. It was as if he had just woken up from a dream, one that faded quickly. He knew he wasn’t thrown because he knew he was in the car prior to passing out, he felt it, but he couldn’t recall climbing out.

  He felt lucid now, aware, every moment before that was snuffing out fast.

  One memory stayed strong.

  The man in the car.

  What was his name? What was his name? Jonas repeated in his mind.

  David.

  That was it.

  It hurt so much to stand, but Jonas did. First to his knees, then using the slanted ground, he crawled until he was straight.

  “David!” he yelled out. “Dave …” He cringed and grabbed his side.

  Was he in the car? Jonas couldn’t remember if he saw the man still in the car. If he was, Jonas had to get him out. After all, how long would it be before the car would be totally engulfed in flames?

  He staggered a few steps and felt lightheaded. The closer he walked to the car, the more of a tunnel vision it appeared.

  His knees buckled ... he took a step …

  Black again.

  Jonas’ eyes opened fast to the loud sound of a truck going by.

  Awake again.

  Aware again.

  The sound was close, too close, it vibrated against his chest as he lay on his stomach. He could feel a mixture of grass and gravel under his hand and a strong heat against his legs. Looking at his hand, Jonas noticed the orange glow. He rolled to his back and instantly panicked.

  He was on an embankment, down the grade a good hundred feet was his car. It blazed wildly, smoke billowing up, flames sparking and shooting high.

  Utter fear swept over Jonas in that instant. His body trembled and he was truly scared. There he was alone, on that hill, injured.

  He felt tremendously hopeless.

  It wasn’t dying that scared him, it was dying on that hillside and never being found. What it would do to his parents.

  “Help!” He cried out, his voice barely making a dent in the dead of the night, he released a single sob and called out again. “Help.”

  He looked around, hoping to see the man that was in his car, but he couldn’t see him.

  Jonas cycled quickly through panic, fear and sadness, then just a fast as it hit him, it was gone.

  He didn’t know why he felt sad, where it came from. In fact, everything he had just felt was fuzzy. He was fading in and out of awareness. It was coming in waves, lucid moments that made the minutes before hazy and dreamlike.

  Breathing heavily, and really unaware fully of what he was doing, he crawled the rest of the way up that embankment.

  He made it to the guardrail and used the metal barrier to stand. The moon was bright. Bright enough to give some illumination to the highway so he didn’t have to wade in a sea of dark.

  Jonas tried to climb over it, but barely had the strength.

  He rolled over the guardrail and onto the berm of the road with a grunt.

  Stand up, he thought. Stand up. You need help.

  Using the guardrail again, he lifted to a stand. He was discombobulated, looking around.

  Not a car in sight.

  As he turned to his left, there it was, a good distance, barely seen, a mere speck in the road, but he knew it was a deer that lay there. It was by a bent up guard rail. Was that his accident? How did he get so far away?

  Jonas started to stagger, going back and forth between the side of the road and the blacktop of the highway.

  He didn’t have direction. Jonas knew he just had to keep moving, but his body felt otherwise.

  It gave out on him.

  His legs wouldn’t move. He tried with everything he had to keep walking, keep standing, but he stumbled out into the road. He knew it wasn’t a good place to be. Actually, it was the worst place his failing body could be.

  But Jonas didn’t have a choice. He felt like he just folded. Collapsing down, dropping to his knees on to the highway.

  He wasn’t able to move. He tried, but he couldn’t, even when he saw the headlights of the car speeding his way.

  He knew it was the end and braced for that split second when it would all be over.

  SIX

  Russ McKibben was a good man, everyone knew it. Hard when he had to be, soft when he needed to be. He had been the chief of police in the small town of Williams Peak for sixteen years. Before that he patrolled the streets. Born and raised there, Russ was three years from retiring and nothing surprised him anymore. Certainly not an accident on the highway at the notorious Broke Man’s Curve. What did surprise him about the four in the morning phone call was after hearing about the wreckage not only was the victim alive, but he was also relatively fine.

  That was the information Russ was given.

  He’d see for himself when he went to the site. But first he wanted to stop by the hospital.

  Williams Peak had a good little rural hospital. It was rated in the top twenty. Forty beds, an ER, a four bed ICU. It had it all, and a lot of folks from close small towns came there instead of the bigger cities.

  Russ had brewed some coffee and put it in that obnoxious looking travel mug his daughter had gotten him for Christmas. It looked horrendous with a cheese curl de
sign, but it kept a large amount of coffee piping hot for a while.

  He left the mug in his car when he went inside the Emergency Room to enquire about the John Doe.

  As soon as Russ stepped inside the hospital Old Joe Baker jumped from the waiting room chair and rushed to him.

  Not that Joe was old, maybe some would consider him that, he was about the same age as Russ. He got the name ‘old Joe’ because he constantly talked about the way things had been.

  A humble man who fixed cars in a garage he built on his own property. He and his wife Margorie owned the local market and café. And despite the ups and downs and the hard times, Baker’s Market was still going. Just like the town.

  “Hey, Chief,” Joe approached him. “I can tell—”

  “Not right now, Joe.” Russ held up his hand, speaking politely. “I’ll be with you in a minute. I’m here on business.”

  “I know.”

  “Good.” With a nod Russ walked away.

  “You’ll be wanting to talk to me.’

  “I’m sure.” Russ glanced at the reception nurse who gave him a ‘go ahead’ to continue into the back. The second he stepped through the thick double doors he could hear the yelling. It came from the back. A male voice, kind of raspy, but with that loud, angry, gurgling sound.

  “Let me go! Now! Now!” Pause. “I don’t care! Let … me … go!”

  Russ shifted his eyes about, wondering how he didn’t hear that yelling when he walked in.

  What was going on?

  Doc Jenner was behind the nurse’s station. When he first came to the hospital, he was young and wet behind the ears. He had just finished his residency in some Chicago hospital. He thought he knew it all, but he didn’t know people.

  It was like some old movie watching the change in the doc.

  That was twenty some years earlier.

  “Russ,” Doc said with an exhausted voice. “Glad you finally got here.”

  Russ readied to reply but instead lifted his head to the yelling.

  “No! I don’t care. No.” the man shouted.

  “Is he yelling at himself?” Russ asked.

  “Just reacting to Janey, but you know her, it doesn’t faze her,” Doc replied.