by Dani Atkins
From the seat in front of me, which had collapsed backwards and was now painfully crushing both my legs, I heard the terrified sound of Caroline moaning and crying. I tried to reach out my hand to her, but the driver’s seat had me pinioned where I sat. ‘Caro? Are you okay? Are you hurt?’
More crying and a long wailing moan, which I actually thought for a second was an animal. Was the deer down here in the ditch with us? Had we hit it after all? Then I heard the hitching breaths between the moans, and realised it was my friend’s voice – well, something like her voice – because it was plain to hear that she was in shock.
‘What happened? Where are you?’
‘I’m right here, Caroline. I’m in the back seat. Are you hurt?’
She sounded genuinely confused at the question. ‘Hurt? No. Why? What happened?’
I was no medic, but this was most definitely shock.
‘We had an accident, Caro,’ I said, surprised my voice sounded so calm and controlled. ‘There was an animal in the road and we… we crashed.’
‘We’ve crashed?’
I paused before answering. I didn’t know what to say to her, because I had a feeling that hysteria was really only a moment or two away, and I needed to ask her something really, really important.
‘Caroline. Can you see Amy? Is she there beside you?’ I felt, rather than saw her move in her seat, and then scramble up on to her knees and crawl over to the passenger seat, as though to confirm what her eyes were telling her. The only good thing that proved was that Caroline could still move around, so probably wasn’t that badly hurt. ‘She’s not here! She’s not here! Where’s she gone?’ Her face suddenly appeared in the small gap between the two headrests. Her eyes, frantically darting in their sockets, raked the rear of the car. ‘Is she back there with you?’
I bit my lip and swallowed noisily before answering, trying all the while not to look past Caroline at the Amy-shaped gaping hole in our shattered windscreen, which looked to be ringed with something dark and dripping.
‘I think she got thrown out, Caro. She’d just undone her seat belt before the crash—’
‘So she’s okay? She wasn’t in the car when we crashed, so she’s okay, right?’
It was like talking to a five-year-old. Was it just shock, or had Caroline hit her head? I looked at the windscreen, or what was left of it, bowed out in a funnel shape from the accident. I looked at the hole and tried really, really hard not to look at Amy’s blood which was still trickling in places over the shattered screen.
‘Caroline, you have to get out of the car and find Amy.’
‘No,’ protested my friend, shaking her head to emphasise her words. ‘I can’t. I shouldn’t. You mustn’t move after an accident.’
How on earth had that little gem stayed in, when all other good sense seemed to have temporarily been lost?
‘I know, I know. But you’ve already moved a bit and Amy’s hurt. She’s gone thr—’ Something stopped me from making this too graphic, given Caroline’s current state of mind. ‘She’s not in the car any more. So you need to find her and check she’s okay. Can you do that for me?’
Caroline looked back at me, her face a picture of terror. I was terrified too, not just from what had happened, but for what she might find waiting for her out on the road. ‘You’re coming too, aren’t you? We’ll look together.’ She clearly hadn’t seen, or perhaps just couldn’t comprehend, the mangled driver’s seat that was crushing both my lower limbs and imprisoning me in the car.
‘I can’t get out,’ I said, and although I thought I was being so brave, I was suddenly aware that the whole time I’d been talking to her, tears had been falling down my face. I heard them now in my voice as I spoke. ‘The seat’s trapped me here, you have to do it. You have to find Amy and get help. Please, Caroline.’
Something in my desperation pierced through the cushioning haze she’d been enveloped in since we crashed. She nodded fiercely like a child. I looked at the front doors of the vehicle and saw that, like the rear ones, they were wedged tightly in the ditch. There was only one way in and out of the car. ‘You have to climb out through the windscreen and then crawl up the bonnet until you can grab on to the grassy sides of the bank. Can you do that?’
It was a lot to ask, it was a lot to do, but until help in the form of the emergency services reached us, Caroline was our only hope. She turned wordlessly and stared at the hole in the windscreen, then placed her hands on the dashboard for purchase.
‘Wait!’ I commanded, reaching in the mangled remains of the back seat for the jacket Amy had thrown in earlier. ‘Put this around the bottom of the hole before you crawl through, or you’ll cut yourself to pieces.’ Just like Amy must have done, a horrible voice intoned in my head. Stop it! I couldn’t think like that. I couldn’t let the panic take over.
Caroline actually managed to accomplish her exit from the car and climb up the bank with remarkable ease. Without another word she did everything I had asked of her, and scrambled from the tip of the bonnet on to the side of the bank, using an exposed tree root for a handhold. And then she was gone.
The wait seemed interminable. I knew how hard the task I’d given her was. The light from the headlamp was uselessly illuminating only the sky, and the moon was covered with scudding clouds. It was virtually pitch-black out there, and Amy could be anywhere on the road. Caroline could literally walk right by her and never know it. I heard her calling Amy’s name, the sound getting increasingly fainter as she moved further away from the car. Amy was unconscious, I told myself. Amy couldn’t reply because she was unconscious. Any other reason for the lack of response was unthinkable.
As the moments passed I struggled yet again to free myself, shoving both hands against the back of the seat and pushing with every last ounce of strength in my body. It was no use. The seat wouldn’t budge and I couldn’t pull my legs free. I began to feel sick from the effort, and the wound on my head, which I’d been doing my best not to focus on at all, began to bleed even more profusely, dripping down my forehead and into my eyes.
I hadn’t heard Caroline’s voice for a minute or two. ‘Caroline, are you okay? Have you found her?’ I called out. No answering reply came back. And I could only pray that a shocked and confused Caroline hadn’t wandered completely off the road and into the surrounding fields, and was now too far away to hear me.
Then an answering scream split the night, horrible and terrified, just one high-pitched strident cry of a name.
Caroline had found Amy.
I don’t know what we’d have done if he hadn’t come along just then. I certainly hadn’t heard the approach of a car, but suddenly the night was filled with sounds: Caroline screaming, and then a long shriek of brakes as a car attempted to come to an emergency stop. I tried to imagine what was happening on the road: Caroline, kneeling beside Amy’s prone body, and then the two of them caught like rabbits in the headlights, as a car rounded the corner and ploughed straight into them in the darkness.
Thankfully, it didn’t happen that way.
I strained my ears and heard the sound of a car door opening and a deep voice speaking rapidly with words I couldn’t make out, and then Caroline’s (probably incoherent) response. But at least someone else was here now, someone who could help. I struggled to hear more, but a really irritating sound coming from the front of the vehicle kept distracting me. Actually, the noise had been there for several minutes I realised; a sort of intermittent crackling. I leaned over to one side, as far as my trapped legs would allow, and waited for it to come again. I only had to wait for a few seconds, and then I saw a small yellow glow flickering briefly like a trapped firefly, coming from behind the smashed dashboard. But no firefly I’ve ever heard of makes that weird arcing and shorting electrical sound. I edged back in my seat, my eyes riveted to the dashboard as though it was a coiled cobra.
It was frustrating not knowing what was happening on the road, but I didn’t want to distract the new arrival with my own situation. Amy,
and to a lesser extent Caroline, were of more pressing importance just now. The crackling, crisp-crunching noise came again, this time accompanied by the brightest flare of a spark so far.
I could only hope that whoever had just arrived had telephoned for help, because my phone was with Caroline’s in our bags in the boot of the car. And Amy’s… well, I guessed Amy wasn’t going to be able to tell us where her phone was for a little while. Or ever.
‘Shut up!’ I cried to that evil voice, not realising I’d said the words aloud at the precise moment that a face came into my field of vision. Someone was looking down at me from the edge of the bank.
‘Hello there.’ The voice belonged to a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, a man with dark wavy hair and a face whose calm expression belied the gravity of our situation. He had to be concerned and worried to have three wounded accident victims suddenly becoming his instant responsibility, but you’d never have known it from the tone of his voice, or the gentle smile he gave as his eyes darted over the car and me, quickly assessing the situation.
‘Hi,’ I replied in response.
He lifted his hand and raked a powerful flashlight beam over the car’s interior and then over me, from my head to my legs, which disappeared from view at about knee level behind the collapsed seat. He frowned a little when he saw the bleeding head wound, then a lot when he saw my legs.
‘You’re hurt.’ It was a statement, not a question. I raised my hand to my forehead, all the while shaking my head in denial.
‘It’s nothing. My friends? Have you called for help? One of them went through the windscreen. How is she? Is she okay? And Caroline… I think she’s in shock.’
‘They’re okay,’ he said reassuringly, and I didn’t challenge the obvious lie. ‘Help’s on the way, it’ll be here soon and your friend… Caroline… is looking after the other girl—’
‘Amy,’ I provided, knowing full well that Caroline was currently in no state to be looking after anyone. Why wasn’t he out there helping Amy?
‘Please, just go back and take care of them,’ I urged, as I saw him assess the steep-sided bank and the angle of the car and realised what he was intending to do. ‘I’ll be fine here until someone else comes.’
He smiled back at me as he swung himself down from the edge of the bank and landed lightly on the bonnet of the car. Nevertheless the mangled metal groaned loudly beneath his weight. It was hard to tell from this angle, but he looked tall, possibly well over six foot and broadly built.
‘I don’t think so. I think we should try and get you out, right now. I’m Jack, by the way,’ he completed and it was only then that I heard the soft burr of an American accent.
‘Emma,’ I replied automatically, and then for no good reason that I can possibly think of, I added, ‘I’m getting married in a fortnight.’
‘Congratulations,’ he responded, winding Amy’s jacket around his hands to protect them.
‘We were on my hen night.’
He gave a small nod, his attention fixed on the windscreen. ‘Cover your eyes.’
I looked up at him blankly. Perhaps Caroline wasn’t the only one in shock.
‘I need to punch out the glass so I can climb in and help you out.’
‘It’s no use, my legs are stuck behind the driver’s seat. I’ve tried, but I can’t get out.’
Just then the entire dashboard was illuminated by a huge spark from the car’s damaged electrics. Jack’s forehead crumpled into a frown, but the gentling smile never left his face. ‘Let’s just see, shall we? Cover your eyes.’
I did as he said, so can’t say exactly what he did next, but I heard several loud thumps, a grunt or two and then suddenly I was being showered in a shrapnel rainfall of broken windscreen. It fell over and around me like lethal hail, landing in my hair, settling on my face and even sticking to the bloodied wound on my forehead. I went to brush the pieces off my face, but was stilled by his shouted warning. ‘Don’t touch it, just shake your head.’ I did as he suggested, and most of the pieces fell away.
He gave another smile. ‘Can’t have you ruining that pretty face for the wedding photos,’ he said, sliding through the aperture which had once held the windscreen. The moment he entered the car his demeanour changed. He froze, half-crouched on the front passenger seat, and inhaled. I couldn’t see what was worrying him, until I did likewise. Petrol. Really strong petrol. Why hadn’t I smelled it before? The odour was everywhere, the car was permeated and bathed in pungent fumes. More crackles from the front dashboard caused both of us to turn in that direction. We looked back at each other with identical expressions.
‘Let’s just get you out.’
I shook my head angrily. ‘Just go. You won’t be able to do anything, and if this stuff ignites, there’s no need for both of us to be in here.’
He carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. He reached down to one side and released the lever to recline the passenger seat, and pushed it back as far as it would go. A moment later he was beside me on the cramped remains of the back seat. He was a big guy and seemed to totally fill the space. His face was only centimetres from mine.
‘Hi,’ he grinned, as though we weren’t in the middle of a life-threatening crisis.
I gripped his arm with an urgency that I just couldn’t see in him. ‘You have to get out of here. Now!’
He just shook his head, as though I’d said something totally ridiculous. ‘You first, then me.’
Who was he, this American stranger who was risking his own life to save mine?
‘Now tell me,’ he continued in a tone of voice that sounded as casual as if we were chatting at a dinner party, ‘are you hurt anywhere else besides your head? Can you feel your legs, move your feet okay?’ I wriggled my ankles, as much as I could, and winced a little with the pain.
‘No. All good,’ I reported back.
That earned me another smile.
‘Let’s just have a look at this seat, shall we?’ asked Jack, leaning forwards and across me to examine it closely, pushing experimentally at several points along the back of the frame. He did this a few times, more strenuously, grunting with the effort. My field of vision and lap was entirely full of this kind (but clearly misguided) accidental hero, who was making my rescue his current mission.
‘I’m sorry, I’m going to have to get a little personal here,’ he said, placing both his hands on my bare legs and running them down what was accessible of my limbs, until they disappeared under the seat, presumably to see if there was a way of pulling them free. There was an unhurried air to his exploration, even though I knew that a very deadly clock was ticking. ‘I apologise for that,’ he said again, straightening up until he was once more beside me. ‘I know how fond you Brits are of your personal space.’ How could he sound so light-hearted at a time like this?
Suddenly a small muted puffing sound came from the front of the car, followed by a long thin snaking white trail of smoke, which began to meander out of one of the vents. Jack glanced at me, all humour gone. For the first time he looked worried.
‘Please go.’
He shook his head. ‘I think I might be able to push on the seat hard enough to give you enough room to wriggle your legs free.’
He was strong, I could tell that. His forearms were muscled, and with his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, I could see his well-developed biceps straining against the fabric as he braced his arms and pushed on the frame of the seat. The entire back of the car seemed to vibrate with the effort and force he was expelling. Suddenly a dull tearing noise interrupted the low growl Jack was making from the effort. And then his arm just disappeared into the back of the seat through a gaping hole in the material.
‘Fuck! That hurt!’ he exclaimed. ‘Sorry,’ he apologised ludicrously. He withdrew his arm from the hole and it was covered in blood flowing from a long deep cut which ran along the inside of his foreman. The unyielding metal of the frame had sliced viciously back in retaliation. That did it.
‘For Chri
st’s sake give up. Now you’re hurt.’
He looked down at his dripping arm. ‘What? This? I’ve cut myself worse than this shaving.’
‘You shave your arms?’ He grinned at that. ‘Jack, please,’ I implored, using his name for the first time. I kind of liked the way it sounded. ‘The fire engines are on their way. They’ll have all the proper equipment to cut me out of here. They’ll have those Jaws of Death thingies.’
‘Jaws of Life,’ he corrected.
‘Whatever. I can hang on until then. I’ll be okay as long the petrol doesn’t seep into the car and ignite.’
He looked at me intently, and I wondered whether I should have paid more attention to those chemistry lessons at school, after all. From the look on his face, what I thought I knew about combustible fuels was completely and utterly wrong. ‘What? Isn’t that right?’
‘It’s not just the gas that can ignite, Emma. The fumes can too.’
I didn’t need it spelling out any more clearly. The car was full of them, and they were getting stronger by the minute.
I nodded at the seat. ‘Try again.’
He turned his body slightly, and braced his back against the side of the car.
‘Let’s try a new position, this time, shall we?’
Despite everything that was going on, there was a cheeky double-meaning in his words, which I didn’t doubt was deliberate. It was there in the twinkle of his eye, as he brought up his legs and positioned one large booted foot on either side of the seat’s frame.
Absolutely anyone could have been driving the car that stopped to come to our rescue; it could have been a woman, a wimpy stick-thin man, or even a coward. I’m just eternally grateful that instead it was a big, strong, athletic man, with a curiously over-developed hero complex. I knew it was going to work, even before the seat began to move. I knew that that level of steely determination, the grimace of concentration and the extraordinary strength and effort, were going to succeed. He would have it no other way.
