The Passing at Highway 10 – part 10

So I grabbed the old slugger and saw through the windshield of the truck that Sally had broken loose and was booking it hot back toward the truck.  I hopped out, grabbed her by the hand, and shoved her up into the passenger seat of the rig; I told her that I was gonna go take a look at the guy, girl, whatever the hell that sack of slick red flesh was.  Told her to calm down and sit tight.  I was nervous as a son of a bitch, though, let me tell you.  I mean, I’m no John Wayne, but I ain’t no coward.  I’ve endured my fair share of sticky situations, and dealt my fair share of trouble too.  I wasn’t scared of throwing down when I needed to, but I was damn certain that the thing we both saw in the road, the body, was dead.  Its legs were twisted like taffy, and it was covered in blood, so what the hell was I supposed to think?  Nobody survives getting bashed by a car and flung 20 feet like a rag doll.  That thing looked like it had been through a blender.   “Why the hell am I scared”, I kept asking myself.  It’s an accident victim, not some friggin’ B-movie monster.  I kept reassuring myself, but none of that worked.

I just knew that sally was scared shitless, a guy was dead inside of a car, and the person that he hit was rolling around and wailing in the rain like a pissed off newborn.  It didn’t seem like a person that just got hit by a car; it seemed like an angry motherfucker that wanted somebody’s head on a stick.  What the hell was I supposed to do?  Sally was ok, and was in the cab; this fucking guy rolled onto his stomach and started inching at us real slow like.  Just kind of pulling himself over in a slow, slimy, slug-like crawl.  He looked like shit, now that I could see his face in the headlights; he had this low growl like a fucking rabid dog, man, and his face was smashed to smithereens.  I mean, it looked like roadkill, this guy’s mug.  What was I supposed to do?  I didn’t want that shit anywhere near us, let alone in my rig.  I though about chucking him into the back, into the trailer, but I didn’t want that fucker to take a chunk out of me with those teeth that he wasn’t shy about showing off.  And who knows what kind of diseases I’d snag from touching the guy.   Either way, I felt a duty to at least try to get the guy to safety.  No way I was gonna leave him out there to die.  Who wouldn’t be pissed after getting slammed by a car on a night like that?  I tried to put myself in his shoes, and realized that I’d be furious too if I were in that busted up skin of his.

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3 comments

  1. Paula

    Your analogies are so descriptive! ..legs twisted like taffy…..wailing in the ran like a pissed off newborn….pulling himself over like in a slimy slug-like crawl…. On to the next chapter! Can’t wait to see what’s next!!

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