Running alongside the road’s shoulder, I search for him, but the terrain beneath my feet betrays me, becoming unbalanced and thick. I strong-arm the door open and leap from my car. Then my memory comes out of hiding, and panic steams through me. I open the door, stick my head out, and find the miracle itself staring up at me.Ī look at the dashboard clock tells me I only lost consciousness for less than a minute. The fear of God sweeps through me, because if this tree hadn’t done me in, the lake surely would have. My mind fumbles for purchase as my gaze travels to the tree, then reality pitches me a wicked curveball, revealing exactly how close I came to losing my life-about seven feet, to be exact, the distance from where my car has stopped before a steep bank that drops into one of the deepest parts of Anderson Lake. I raise my head and peer out through the unbroken windshield. My filmy haze clears enough to reveal the dashboard in front of me. I’m not even sure whether I’m actually alive. Everything is tilted, and I don’t know where I am. I’m gulping air down a throat that feels thick as rope and coated with wax. Something’s telling me I have to wake up. Just below the eyes hangs a poisonous smile-I can’t see it, but I don’t have to. Eyes burning like the blaze of a hundred suns, waves of heat shooting out of them. The last thing I see, a pair of eyes staring directly into mine.Įyes so sharp, so evil, they could have claws and teeth. A speeding pulse hammers through my ears.Ī flash of light explodes with blinding fury, and the last thing I hear is glass shattering. I try to veer toward safety, but wet, slippery ground greases the wheels, fast-pitching my car right at the tree. I missed the kid but may end up paying for it with my own life. But now I’m hurtling toward a giant and unforgiving oak tree. As a last-ditch effort, I wrench the wheel into a half turn that sends my car charging off the road. My stomach roils, my pulse pounds, and I slam my foot against the brake pedal, but wet asphalt instantly counters the action, forcing the car into a screeching skid, propelling me even faster toward him. The boy freezes in my headlights, body rigid, eyes rounded by terror. I yank the wheel to the left, trying to avoid the kid, but the wheel seems to have other ideas-it resists the effort and jerks out of my hands. Several feet ahead, a rubber kickball rolls directly into my path, a teenaged boy in a red hoodie chasing after it. Just as my respiration starts to even out, reality settles, telling me I’ve just escaped what could have been a nasty smack-up. About fifteen heart-stopping feet later, I manage to gain an upper hand as the wheels find traction, at last allowing me to slow. When they fade, I find myself midway into a dangerous skid.Īgain, I struggle for control. My head rams into the side window, and for a few seconds I see stars. Out of instinct, I slam the brake pedal, but the engine grinds out an angry complaint, and my car jerks sharply to the right. Water blankets the windshield, creating instant road blindness that makes it nearly impossible to steer forward safely. My tires hydroplane along flooded pavement with building velocity. I fight for control of the wheel, but it does more harm than good. Am I exaggerating? Would I be so unsettled if another patient had made the same comment?Īnother strong wind forces the car into a shake, jangling my nerves and blowing the thought away. A tone that seemed to resonate with both insight and ambiguity. But there was something else enmeshed within his words. On its face, the statement would seem innocuous, and his manner appeared innocent enough. I can’t seem to let Donny Ray’s parting comment go. As I drive on, the storm gathers intensity, making my tires wayward and slippery. The horizon is dense and inky, trees bending to the threat of a vengeful gale. Those swirling clouds outside my window were indeed the first clue of an approaching storm, and now the moist air and hint of drizzle offer more tangible evidence.įive miles up the road, the proof manifests in a thick curtain of downpour that drops on me suddenly, boosted by a powerful, ramping wind that kicks up loose gravel into my windshield. I head toward the hospital parking lot and realize the weather forecaster wasn’t exactly wrong-just a day late.
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