Prisoner in Time (Time travel) (6 page)

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here,” Geoff reassured.

Sitting on the outside seat, Sam’s face began to contort slightly. He looked around and flared his nostrils as he took in short wifts of air through his nose. Turning back to the other four teens, he had a confused look on his face.

“What’s up with you?” Bill asked, seated directly across from him.

“You smell that?” Sam asked in return.

“What?”

“Cigarettes,” Sam replied simply.

With Sam’s simple statement, all five teens stopped talking. Each breathed in the air and confirmed his finding.

“Who that heck is smoking in here?” Ted asked rhetorically, now searching the nearby area.

Instantly, all eyes looked to the back of the restaurant.

“Arles!” the five said in unison.

As Carl exited the kitchen door, the stale odor of cigarette ash immediately struck him. Without a second thought, he knew who the offender was. He quickly rushed down the isle to the back of the restaurant and stood over Arles.

“What the
HELL
are you doing?” Carl shouted angrily.

“What? I thought this was a smoking section,” Arles shot back, indignantly.

“There’s no smoking in this restaurant and you know it,” Carl replied, now seething. “Get the
HELL
out of my restaurant and don’t come back…
EVER
!”

Arles looked up at Carl, stunned. His smoking was just another attempt to gain attention, but this time his antics backfired on him. In his twisted mind, he felt his punishment was unfair and sat defiantly in his seat, smoking his cigarette, testing the will of the restaurant owner.

Carl took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Look, you little worm, if you’re not out of here in three seconds, I’m going to…”

“What? Call the police?” Arles said, cutting Carl off in mid-sentence.

Carl stood for a moment and thought about his choices. Under normal circumstances, he would have made a calm, cool decision. This was not one of those times.

“I don’t need the police to handle a little runt like you,” he spat.

Instantly, he reached over, grabbed Arles by the shoulders and hauled him out of the booth. Humiliated, Arles began to flail against Carl, but he was no match for the size and strength of Carl’s six-foot-two-inch frame. With Arles tucked under his arm, he easily carried the insolent teen to the front door. As he opened it, he pushed Arles out into the pouring rain. Arles fell to the ground, the water and rain instantly saturating him to his skin. Immediately, he jumped to his feet.

“No one puts there hands on me,” Arles yelled over the rain. “You’ll be sorry.”

Carl stared back unconcerned.

“Don’t ever come back. Next time I
will
call the police,” he warned.

As he closed the door behind him, Arles stood for a moment in the rain and contemplated his options. Suddenly, he became aware of the patrons staring at him through the windows. Soaked and humiliated, anger raged inside him. Wiping the water from his brow, he turned and headed for his truck. He opened the door and got in. Before closing, he held his arm above the cab and extended his middle finger.

Moments later, he roared out of the parking lot, the rear end skidding on the wet road.

Back inside the restaurant:

“Wow man, that was awesome!” Greg said, watching the orange truck swerve out of the parking lot.

“Holy crap! Ole Carl put the smack down on Hero Boy’s ignorant ass,” Ted said, continuing with the humor. “And me without a camera.”

Suddenly, Geoff shouted, “Oh Shit! He’s going to …”

The crash was thunderous and violent. All heads turned and watched in disbelief as the bright orange truck skidded across the road and slammed into an oncoming car. Instantly, the vehicles deformed and became unrecognizable. Twisted metal exploded off the two crumpled heaps and littered the street with debris. Truck and car formed as one, spun around in opposite directions and came to rest on the road’s centerline. For a moment, all was quiet as the patrons of the Fifty-Nine diner stared in disbelief.

“Holy Shit!” Ted blurted.

Without another word, all five teens pushed and shoved their way out of the booth and ran toward the entrance. Reaching the door first, Sam hesitated at the sight of the pouring rain. Bill instinctively shoved his way past him and headed out the door. As the other three hurried on by him, Sam filed in behind them and rushed out into the driving rain.

The five teens raced between the parked cars and headed out into the open street. Cars had already stopped and by-standers milled around the twisted wreck, each on their cell phone to emergency services.

“I wonder if Arles is Ok,” Greg shouted as he ran.

“I’m betting he’s not,” Bill shouted back, now nearing the tragedy.

Although street lights shined down on the crash scene, evening darkness made identification difficult. Bill raced to the edge of the orange wreck and peered inside the cab. Shock and disbelief enveloped his thoughts as he stared at the crushed teen barely clinging to life.

The oncoming car had impacted the driver’s door on the truck, crushing Arles between it and the steering wheel. Without airbags or seatbelts, he absorbed the full force of the crash. Broken and bleeding, life was quickly fading from Arles.

As the five finally caught up with each other and collected around the window, they peered in at the ghastly sight. Moving away, they stared at each other, not saying a word, their eyes betraying their thoughts.

“Wow, poor Arles. Man, I think he’s going to die,” Greg said in grim tone.

The rains poured down on the five teens. Suddenly, Bill hurried around the truck to the other vehicle. As he neared, his heart stopped and his stomach churned. His mind struggled to register the site.

“Oh my God! It’s BOBBY!” Bill shouted loudly over the rains.

The four looked into each other’s eyes.

Instantly, disbelief was replaced with dread as the four heard Bill’s voice. Geoff immediately broke off from the four and raced around the truck. The front end of the tiny white car appeared unrecognizable. As he approached the driver’s door, he stopped abruptly and stared at a small yellow sticker affixed to the rear fender. It was the same sticker Geoff had placed on the fender as a joke weeks before. It was now clear: the mangled white car was in fact, Bobby’s Toyota.

“NO!” Geoff screamed in angst.

He rushed to the edge of the folded door.

“BOBBY!” he shouted into the cab, hoping for a response.

He could see his brother’s body, twisted amongst the metal and deflated airbags. With his body contorted unnaturally, Geoff knew the situation was grave.

He grabbed at the handle and desperately tried to open the door. Tears streamed down his cheeks and were lost in the droplets of rain. With one hand on the handle and the other inside the crushed door, he frantically rocked the car. Bill came up from behind and the two combined their efforts only to give up in defeat.

“Bobby, wake up!” Geoff continued to shout, his sense of denial preventing him from accepting the truth.

He raced around to the opposite side and tried to open the other door, only to find it in worse condition. Looking in at his brother’s lifeless body, anguish and desperation coursed through every fiber within him. He hyperventilated from his torment. He reached in through the door’s broken window and gently touched his brother’s hair, hoping his connection would somehow awaken him.

As he pulled his hand away, he realized the moisture. Looking down, his fingertips were coated in blood.

“Nooo! Oh my God, No!” he cried out in horror. Turning back to his brother, he shouted out to anyone who would listen, “Help… someone call for help. My brother’s in there.”

He stared at his brother’s lifeless body and streams of tears rolled down his face as he cried inconsolably. His guttural shrills of desperation and despair could be heard from far away and his four friends rushed to his side. Standing at the edge of the car, the four held him, trying to soothe his grief. No words, no touch of sympathy could lessen his pain. With each breath he inhaled, he exhaled a blood-curdling shriek that symbolized his heartache.

Overwhelmed with despair, Geoff felt his strength leave his body and he collapsed to the ground beside the crumpled white wreckage.

-----*-----*-----*-----

Off in the distance, the sound of sirens grew louder. Minutes later, flashing lights surrounded the chaos as emergency personnel rushed to save lives. Separated into two teams, one worked to save Arles, the other, Bobby.

Reaching in through the broken window, EMT Gerry Franklin held his fingers to Arles’ neck, trying to locate the carotid artery. He shifted his fingers to various locations, then pulled himself from the vehicle. With a quick shake of his head, he confirmed what the team already knew: Arles was dead.

EMT Dan Glass carefully pulled back the collar of Bobby’s jacket. With his neck exposed, he held his fingers to his neck. Moment’s later, he exited the window. The five teens stood anxiously and waited for a sign.

“This one’s still alive. We need the Jaws-of-life, STAT!” EMT Glass shouted.

Geoff replayed the words in his mind and for a moment, he found a measure of relief.

“He’s alive… he’s alive,” he mumbled to himself.

Minutes later, loud mechanized machinery moaned and creaked as the Jaws-of-life strained to tear metal from its fittings. As the emergency crews worked frantically to extricate its victim, time began to work against them. Bobby’s injuries were extensive. Bones, muscle and organs were damaged and now he began to show signs of internal bleeding.

“Better hurry. His pulse is growing weaker by the minute,” EMT Glass shouted over the deafening roar of the Jaws-of-life.

Seconds later, all machinery went silent and the emergency team moved to action. With a plastic sheet protecting them from the rain, they stabilized Bobby’s neck and back, then slid him out of his seat and onto a waiting gurney. Geoff rushed in to see his brother.

“Is he ok? Will his make it?” he shouted to the team, as they moved him to the waiting ambulance.

“Who are you?” EMT Franklin asked, abruptly.

“I’m his brother. Will he be Ok? Can I ride with you?” he said, in quick succession.

“Absolutely. We’re taking him to Erlanger. You can ride in the back,” EMT Franklin shot back quickly.

As the two EMT’s loaded Bobby into the ambulance, Geoff glanced back at his friends.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Ted shouted, in an assuring tone.

Geoff forced a smile, turned and hopped up into the back.

-----*-----*-----*-----

“Erlanger, we’re currently en route to your location. We have a code one, level orange: auto accident, young man in his late teens. His vitals are BP eighty-seven over forty-nine, pulse forty-five, pulse ox is eighty. Head injury: pupils unresponsive. Fractures to his femur and radius: obvious. Probable internal hemorrhaging. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

EMT Franklin clicked off his mic and waited for a response.

“That sounds really bad. Is he going to make it?” Geoff asked, nervously.

“I wish I could give you a good answer, but honestly, I don’t know. We’ll be in the ER in a few minutes. At least we’re close,” EMT Franklin replied, trying to answer him delicately.