The Last Hour (Thompson Sisters) by Sheehan-Miles, Charles (reading well .txt) 📕

Dedication

To Andrea. For your courage and honesty and friendship.

To Lelyana and the memory of David. You touched my heart.

White (Carrie)

“Will you leave me alone?” Jessica shouted at her twin in the back seat. The beginning of the end started with those five simple words.

A screech of tires to our left, the truck coming at the driver’s side. Ray shouted a curse, Sarah screamed, and then the force of the impact was louder than any sound.

In the movies, pivotal moments sometimes happen in slow motion; so you can appreciate every detail, wonder at the tragedy or awesomeness of the moment. Real life doesn’t happen like that at all: it happens all at once, your senses laid open bare, every single detail happening at once while your mind takes it all in as if your skin and clothes had been ripped off.

The radio played that infuriating Carly Rae Jepsen song, which Ray loved. Ray wore blue jeans and a gray T-shirt sporting the logo of a skull wearing a beret in front of crossed rifles, with the words “US Army Infantry” emblazoned above it. His left wrist bore the watch I bought him, and he’d gotten a haircut three days before, short on the sides, what he called a “high and tight.” Now his left hand mimicked a phone on the side of his face as he belted out, off key, the lyrics to Call Me Maybe. The dashboard clock read 11:15.

Behind him, Sarah sat, decked out in a black t-shirt, black pants and black eyeliner to match her black hair. She was turned away from her more conventional twin Jessica, her jaw set, angry.

It was a cloudless August day, one hundred and two degrees outside, but in our car the air felt chilled and comfortable. We were driving down Connecticut Avenue, at the intersection with Tilden, on our way to the National Zoo.

I saw it at the last second: a green Jeep SUV with Virginia plates, the grill chromed, gleaming, as it ran through the light and sped straight toward us. The Jeep had vanity license plates reading, “GR8 DAD.”

Terror flooded through me, my gut twisting, my throat tightening up, dread at the back of my throat wiping out all thought. I didn’t have time to say anything, to scream, to respond, before it slammed into the side of our car.

Ray’s head slammed against the glass, against the front of the Jeep, which seemed to be coming right through the driver’s side windows, and glass flew across the car, pelting me. The force jerked me to the right, hard, and everything went white as we slammed into another car.

White.

Formless images and thoughts, memories, drifted across a blank canvas.

Ray in his deep blue dress uniform, medals gleaming. He smiled our secret across to me, as Dylan and Alexandra kissed in the university chapel.

The twins, Jessica and Sarah, in matching dresses, playing hide and seek in the upstairs of our house in San Francisco, giggling little girls, not yet locked in constant battle with each other.

Ray again, his right arm in the air, beads of sweat on his forehead and dark circles under his eyes, as he swore an oath to tell the truth.

Walking across the green at Columbia with my sister Alexandra last November when my eyes fell on Ray for the very first time. He was with her boyfriend Dylan on a beautiful fall day. Ray was a tall guy with short-cropped hair and an easy grin. His blue eyes arrested attention, and I couldn’t stop looking at him. We were both tongue-tied and awkward, but he had such an easy laugh.

Months later, his arms around me, warm, safe, as I leaned my forehead against his shoulder and he whispered, “We’ll get through this. No matter what.”

My eyes opened and locked on the two rings on my ring finger, the diamond and the tiny band decorated with sapphires. My entire body spasmed in pain, and I couldn’t move my head. Blood and glass sprinkled a pattern across my lap and on my hands.

“Don’t move, miss,” a voice said, and I needed to scream, “I can’t move!” but nothing came out.

The fear flooded back through me, and I tried to turn to see Ray and Sarah, but someone held my head in place as someone else strapped something around my neck. They eased me out of the car onto a stretcher. A sharp pain ran up my back, and then I was being wheeled away from the car.

“Ray ... my sisters ... are they okay?” I tried to scream the words, but they came out a raw, tiny whisper.

“We’re checking on the others right now, ma’am, stay calm.”

Stay calm. How? I was panting. Where was Ray? And the twins? I felt and heard a thump, and I was staring at the ceiling of the ambulance. Two emergency medical technicians were checking me over, one strapping something around my wrist while the other leaned close and asked, “Do you know where you are, ma’am?”

I struggled to answer, fog clouding my thoughts. I wanted to clasp my hands together across my belly, but I’d been strapped down. My throat was raw, and it felt like my brain was working slowly. I had to concentrate to understand his words.

“Washington,” I said. “We were on our way to the zoo. Where’s my husband? My sisters?”

Even as I asked the question I hated the whine in my voice, but I had to know if Ray and the twins were all right. No one would answer my question, which just made me more afraid. The jeep hit us on the driver’s side. Sarah had been sitting behind Ray. Was she okay? And Ray… my mind kept going back to the sight of him, his head bouncing off the high front end of the jeep. I wanted to scream, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe.

“They’re working on getting the others out of the vehicle. We