Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“His foot is jammed,” someone announces, “if we pull him out, it’ll rip through his whole thigh.”
“We need to get the driver out.” I hear more footsteps from the other side of the car.
“What a fucking mess,” another voice adds, “three-car accident. One man struck on the side of the road.”
“How many are in this car?” a woman asks as I hear shouting from far away, and then more sirens fill the night. Red lights flash into the truck's darkness for a couple of seconds, but I don’t have time to look around before it’s dark again.
“We have three in the back and two in the front.” I want to tell him we have four in the back, but my mouth is dry, and I suddenly taste metal.
The sound of metal clunking fills right outside my door, and I wince as my head throbs. “We got you,” someone says right after the clunking sound stops. “We got him out.”
“Jennifer,” Charlie says. “My girlfriend,” he says frantically, “she’s in the back.”
“We’re trying to get them out,” the man assures him, and I finally am able to open my eyes and look around. We are upside down, my head tilted to the side. My hair is in front of my face as I try to lift my hand to push it away, but it’s being crushed by a body.
“Jennifer,” I call her name since she was the one sitting next to me. “Jennifer is here,” I try to say, “she’s here.”
“We’re coming to get you out.” The voice sounds like it’s right next to me. “We’ll get you out.”
It sounds like a hundred people are working around me. “Jennifer,” Charlie screams, “she was in the back!”
“How many people were in the back?” a man calmly asks him.
“We were six people,” Charlie snaps. “Four in the back.”
“There are only three people in the back.” I hear the words, but nothing makes sense.
“There are four people in the back,” Charlie tells him, frustration in his voice. “Three girls and one guy.”
“Okay,” the man again says calmly. “We’ll go check again.”
“She’s in there,” Charlie declares, and then I hear him roar out in pain.
“Sir, you need to sit down and let us work on your leg,” a woman urges. “Your leg is broken; you won’t be able to stand.”
“I need to go to her!” Charlie screams. “Why aren’t you guys trying to get her out?”
I blink as a white light fills the back seat, so I close my eyes. “There are only three people back here,” a man says softly, “unless she’s under…”
“Fucking front of the cab is on the floor; we can’t even see.” I try to make sense of the bits and pieces of the conversation going on around us. I want to keep my eyes open, but they are so heavy. I just need to close them for a minute, I think to myself, and then I feel like I’m being moved.
“Had to pry her out,” someone relays, and I try to open my eyes but not before I hear Charlie's shrieking.
The agony in his voice runs through my bones. “Where is she?” he yells. “I’m not leaving without her.”
I feel like I’m floating. “Her arm seems to be broken, I think. Her blood pressure is high.”
“She has to be fucking here somewhere!” Charlie screams. “Get me a phone. Someone, please, I need a phone!”
I open my eyes and turn my head for a minute, seeing Charlie sitting beside the upside-down truck. The front of the pickup looks like it’s been crushed. A tree branch lies on top of the bottom of the truck. The four doors are pried open, and one of the tires is not too far from the wreckage. I turn my head to the other side, noticing two other vehicles. A pickup looks like it’s been crashed into on the side, and the other car is missing the front tire and smashed up on one side.
I try to lift my arm, but it feels like it’s stuck to the gurney. My body bumps up and down, and I groan, but it’s swallowed by the sound of two doors being slammed shut, then the banging on the back, and I feel like I’m moving.
My eyes open, and I look around to see I’m in an ambulance, or at least I think I’m in the ambulance. “Hurts.” That’s the only thing that comes out.
“I bet it does,” the woman tells me. “We’re on the way to the hospital.”
“Is everyone okay?” I ask, blinking open my eyes and focusing on the top of the ambulance.
“Um,” the girl says, avoiding my eyes, “I’m not too sure.”
“Waylon,” I say his name, “the driver. Is he on his way to the ambulance?”
“I’m not sure,” she repeats. “All I know is I have you, and we are going to get you to the hospital.”