Disconnect
I remember only some of what happened immediately after the impact. But I do recall some dude pulling me out of my burning truck. I’d been hauling a load of logs out of Dothan. One of them so called smart cars had pulled out in front of me. I hit the brakes hard, and the rest is history. My front bumper devoured the not-so-smart tiny two-seater. There is no way the driver could have survived.
They say it looks as if my brakes locked up and caught fire. It’s impossible to stop a big rig loaded with three tons of pine logs in a hundred feet. I swerved to try to miss the car. Tie-down chains broke, and I lost the load. It caught fire. Now I’m lying here in some hospital with burns over my lower body—could have been worse if that dude hadn’t pulled me out.
Sometimes I wish he hadn’t. My life’s been self-destructing for the past two years. It all started with the OxyContin pills. My prescription had run out, so I started buying them off the street. That eventually morphed into heroin.
I lost my high paying job, my big house on Pawleys Island and my wife left me. No one would hire me, even though I’d graduated summa cum laude from Virginia Tech. Finally got a job driving the big rig. I somehow managed to pass the drug test. I guess they never checked my record.
A guy in dirty jeans and a hoodie just now walked in my room. Wait… That’s the dude who pulled me out of my truck. Naw, can’t be.
“Tom, how are you doing this morning?”
I stared at his face. “Aren’t you the guy who pulled me out of my truck?”
“Yes, that was me. I just wanted to check to see how you’re doing.”
I searched his eyes; they were compassionate, gentle, even a bit mesmerizing. There was something about the guy I couldn’t quite label. Something more. Something familiar, but just beyond my reach of memory. “So, are you a fireman? EMT? I think I passed out right after you pulled me out of that inferno.”
“No,” he said, “I’m neither. I was just passing by and saw the accident. Two firetrucks were there, but I guess the fire wasn’t the main concern at first. An EMT was pulling a lady out of that crumpled little car. I saw the fire starting to billow up from the wheels into the cab of your truck. I knew there had to be a driver. After I got you out, another EMT took over.”
I raised my hand to shake his. He smiled and offered his fist. “Look,” I said, “You obviously know my name, but I didn’t get yours.”
“Just call me Dee.”
We talked for seemed like an hour or more. Odd, because no nurses or anyone came in the room during that time. He’s one of those rare individuals who is good at pulling a lot of talk out of people. And it worked on me. Things I’ve never discussed with anyone else, not even my wife—make that my ex-wife.
After he’d managed to piece my life together like one of those friendship quilts ladies used to make, his eyes drilled into mine “Tom, I think there are some other things you’re not telling me.”
“Look, you know a lot more about me than I know about you.” I think he could see I was getting a little agitated. I mean, who did he think he was, digging into my past and tricking me into exposing my drug habit. I felt the blood rushing to my face.
He backed away a bit. “Tom,” he said slowly, “take a chill pill, man.”
With those words, a picture flashed across my mind—lightning, turbulence, that plane from Atlanta. I closed my eyes, trying to remember.
Was he on that plane? Naw, couldn’t be. I looked up and started to ask him.
He was gone.
Enjoy the journey
Eldon
Eldon Reed ©2015