The Aftermath by Gail Schimmel (free ebook reader for ipad .TXT) 📕

I nodded, pleased that he had decided to see the good side of things, sure that this meant the fight was behind us.

But we had to stop a few times, and soon it was dark . . . dark like it can only be on a narrow highway in the middle of nowhere with no street lights. There was almost no traffic, but cows or even buck could step into the road at any point, and we both knew stories about accidents like this. A cow, hit at the right speed, is surprisingly lethal.

‘Drive carefully,’ I said. ‘There’s no rush.’

‘I am driving carefully,’ Mike snapped. ‘It’s hard.’

We saw the lights of the truck approaching from a long way away. It was barely of any interest, except that we hadn’t seen much traffic for a while. I watched it approach – not with a sense of foreboding, but because it was all that there was to watch on that road.

Suddenly, out of the blue, as the truck drew level with us, the driver swerved. Nobody ever knew why. The truck swerved on to our side of the road; everything became loud and black and hard and for what felt like forever, I didn’t know what was happening – it was all lights and noise and the screaming of brakes.

The truck hit the driver’s side, almost ploughing through us. The wonder is that they weren’t killed on impact. Like the truck driver. Because on the driver’s side of the car was Mike. And behind him sat our four-year-old son, Jack, who we had thought was old enough to enjoy the trip to the game reserve. Jack, our first child.

Jack, the brightest, funniest, best-looking little boy that ever lived.

Jack, who was asleep in the back of the car when the truck hit.

I screamed, ‘Jack, are you okay?’ and he said, ‘What happened, Mummy?’ and my heart released because he was alive and that was all that mattered. I thought that someone would come past soon, and help us. Jack was alive. Everything would be okay.

And then I looked over at Mike, and he was very still, and there was blood trickling out of his nose. But I could see that his chest was moving slightly and I knew that he was alive too. I remember thinking, This is terrible, but we will be okay.

But I was completely pinned to my seat. The airbag was holding me in, and a piece of metal from the truck had landed across me. I tried to fight it, to get to Jack, but I couldn’t. Eventually, I worked my arm free, grazing all the skin off my forearm in the process, and I reached behind me to Jack. He found my hand.

‘Jack,’ I said.

‘Mummy,’ he said. ‘Mummy, I have blood.’

‘Where, baby?’

He laughed. Actually laughed. ‘Everywhere, Mummy!’

‘Does it hurt, love?’ I said, because I was starting to feel my own pain – in my foot and along my side where something had grazed me, and my arm that I had just hurt working free.

‘A bit now, Mummy,’ he said. ‘My tummy is a bit sore, Mummy.’

‘Okay, Jackie,’ I said. ‘Mummy’s here. Someone will come help us soon. It’s gonna be okay, my baby. It’s gonna be okay.’

But nobody came. And I started to remember how empty the road was as we drove, and I managed to move my left arm, the one that was still caught, so that I could see my watch. It was 10 p.m.. If the roads were already empty, it’s unlikely they would get any busier now.

But still, I hoped. I knew that help was our only chance.

‘Mummy,’ said Jack. ‘I’m really sore. And sleepy.’ I squeezed his hand.

‘Jackie, my baby, my love,’ I said. ‘I think it’s better if you try to stay awake.’

So I talked to Jack and I tried to sing and I tried not to think about the fact that Mike hadn’t moved and the whole world was quiet. And after we had sung a few songs, Jack said, ‘Mummy, I want a hug.’

I started to cry. ‘Me too, Jackie,’ I said. ‘But I’m stuck. Someone will help us soon. Just imagine Mummy is hugging you. Imagine my arms are around you.’

But Jack started to cry too and I was crying, and he said, ‘I’m so sore, Mummy. I want to sleep.’

But I knew that he mustn’t. I knew that I had to keep him awake. ‘No Jack,’ I said. ‘You mustn’t sleep. Tell Mummy about your dinosaurs. Come on. Talk to Mummy.’ But there was nothing I could do. His eyes were closing. ‘No Jack,’ I yelled, trying to pull on his hand to wake him. ‘Wake up. Wake up. Help is coming, you just have to stay awake.’ But he fell asleep, and his hand slipped from my grasp, and for a while I could hear him breathing.

And then I couldn’t.

And I screamed his name and I screamed and I screamed.

It was another two hours before a car came to a screeching halt beside us and called to me, and then drove as fast as it could to the nearest house and phoned for help.

The morning after Eddie’s lunch, I wake up, late, screaming.

My body is drenched in sweat, the sheets are tangled tight around me, and my face is wet with tears.

And I am screaming so loud that it hurts my throat. I’ve dreamt about The Accident. In the dream, everything happened exactly like it happened in real life – it was so vivid it could have been real. I tried to change things, to alter the outcome, but I can’t. The only difference between the dream and reality is that in the dream, just before the truck swerves, I see a rabbit in the road. And I don’t know if this is a dream thing, or a memory. Did my baby die to save a rabbit? I can’t bear it.

I know that this has all been a terrible mistake, thinking I could ever be better.