Yearn A. Ellis (carter reed .TXT) 📖

Just as I started to ask if maybe we should turn around and hit the in-town roads, Dre yelped as the car hit a patch of ice and careened sideways. No amount of pumping the brakes slowed the vehicle’s rapid slide along the sheet of ice. Gritting my teeth and holding on for dear life, I cursed when the car hopped the curb and barreled down the small embankment toward the trees and the water. The creek wasn’t deep, but crashing into a tree or nose diving into the water wasn’t going to turn out well.

Our bouncy ride down the hill ended abruptly thanks to a head-on collision with a large tree. Grateful our velocity had been lessened by the rough terrain, I still grunted heavily on impact as the driver’s side airbag whooshed to deploy.

Fuck. I’d seen enough injuries from airbags to know they were lifesavers in a lot of cases but not always concern-free.

As the rumbling from the crash dissipated, and the quiet of the dark, icy morning settled around us, I immediately did a quick self-assessment and determined I had some bumps and bruises, but nothing severe.

Turning to Dre, I pushed away the airbag material and called his name. “Dre? Hey,” I fought a bit of panic in my voice when he didn’t instantly reply. “Hey, Dre, you good? Dre?”

He stirred with a moan, but concern flowed through me that the impact—either from the tree or the airbag—had knocked him out, even if just for a moment.

“Shit,” he croaked. “Damn ice. I’m so sorry.” He winced as he tried to shift in his seat.

“Hey, nothing to be sorry about. Ice is a bitch; that big ol’ patch would have challenged the best of them.” I unhooked my seatbelt and moved to examine him more closely. The dark made it difficult and I searched for my phone. “Fuck, I can’t find my phone. Do you have yours?”

After several moments of hunting for our phones, I finally gave up. “Probably under the seats or in the back somewhere.” I pressed the button for the dome light and gave a silent thank you that the light still worked. “Okay, let me take a look at you.” I slipped into paramedic mode and did a full assessment.

Despite the dim conditions, I did my best to check his pupils and they seemed reactive. His left eye was already swollen shut from the airbag smacking him in the face and trickles of blood flowed from his busted nose, cheek bone, and lip.

I knew from the way my chest area ached from the seatbelt that Dre was likely in even more pain thanks to the airbag—mine should have deployed, but for whatever reason it didn’t and I had to admit I was grateful in the current situation.

“Fuck, we need to get to work,” Dre muttered and reached for his door handle.

I put a hand out to pause his movement. “Hold up,” I said calmly despite the unease building inside—my gut said it was his belligerence talking and not confusion, but with possible head injuries, you never really knew. “You’re not going to be able to open your door, there’s a tree pressed against it.” I glanced toward my own door and saw there was a bit more room on my side, but there was no way I’d be able to squeeze through thanks to the way the car had wedged between the trees before it struck the one in front of us.

“We’re not going to work today,” I said. “But the good thing is that they’re going to miss us soon and with the roads the way they are, they’ll come looking. We need to keep the doors closed to keep the heat in for as long as possible.” Thank God Dre had been blasting the heater during the drive. The cold would seep in, but keeping the warmth for as long as possible was my goal.

Dre groaned and rested his head against the seat. “Damn, I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck. Is my face as bad as it feels?”

I winced. “You’re pretty banged up. How’s your chest?”

“Feels like a herd of elephants stomped on me.” He turned a lazy smile my way. “Is that right? Herd? Do elephants travel in herds?”

I chuckled. “I think so.”

Dre’s eyes drooped.

“Hey, hey, no sleeping. I’m not sure about your head, you may have a concussion. Let’s stay awake. Once you’re at the hospital and they have you monitored, you can rest.” Worry for Dre’s head and any internal injuries ramped up inside.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

He snorted softly. “Like I was in a car wreck and smashed into a tree.”

I smiled. “Internal pain?” Bleeding organs—whether brain or spleen or something else were always a worry. I was pretty confident his head injury wasn’t severe, but internal bleeding didn’t always present right away.

“Sleepy and my whole body seems to be throbbing. No severe internal pain, just the expected pain from the seatbelt, airbag, and impact.” He groaned. “Why am I so tired?”

“Adrenaline is wearing off.”

He nodded. “Don’t know that I can stay awake.”

I reached for his hand. “I’ll keep you awake. We can talk until rescue gets here.”

“Julia’s gonna be pissed we’re not on shift,” Dre muttered.

“She’ll deal. Not like we did it on purpose.” I mentally calculated we likely had about thirty minutes before they sent someone out to find us. If no one showed by then, I’d figure out a way to maneuver myself to the back and crawl out—even though I didn’t want to let in more cold or leave Dre. Or I’d at least try to find a phone—I swore they were probably under the seats, but the impact had squished things just enough that crawling all over to find them was not going to be super easy.

I checked Dre’s pupils and pulse again. If he seemed to get worse, I’d push the time sooner. I worried