- Author
- 11/08/2021
- 753 Words
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- 21 Comments
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Story Prompts/Ideas - 5. Loss on Asphalt
"I'm here," Brad cleared his throat, pushing the waver from his tone. "I'm here."
Andy clung to him, face buried against his neck. His friend's body heaved in wracking sobs, and he dragged in breaths in staccato gasps.
Brad held him - his oldest friend. The lights of the police cruisers strobed over the scene of the accident, and the odor of gasoline stung his nose.
"Guys, you gotta get back." A policeman with a firm, yet understanding tone extended his arms. "Come on, back up a bit."
The coroner hurried away from the scene, also escorted by the police. Brad looked over his shoulder as the cops put up yellow tape around the mangled cars.
"Wait." Andy turned. "They ... they're not going to leave him, right?"
The cop's face only flickered in the barest slip of his professional composure. "No, we just can't get him out right now. The gas tank started leaking; it's too dangerous, and we've got to wait for the hazmat team to deal with the gasoline."
Andy stared at Nathan's Kia, crumpled and on its side. "He's the only thing good about me."
The policeman swallowed, his eyes finding Brad's for a split second. In response, Brad squeezed Andy's shoulders and gave the lawman a slight nod.
I've got him.
The man nodded back. "Well, there might be folks who disagree." His radio crackled on his chest, and he turned to mumble a reply. He patted each of their shoulders. "Go on over to the ambulance, guys." He squeezed reassuringly. "I'll come check on you in a bit."
Brad did as he was told, and gently steered a shell-shocked Andy to the back of an ambulance. The EMTs had removed their stretcher and set it up on the ground. "Here, sir. Just have a seat. There you go. Can we get you a blanket? Are you cold?"
Andy shook his head, though his breath steamed in the chill.
Brad waved at the EMT. "Can we get that blanket?"
"Of course." The woman returned quickly with a battered but clean gray blanket, and Brad draped it across Andy's shoulders.
Watching the world through glassy eyes, Andy stared at the accident scene, the police, and the newly-arrived hazmat team scurrying around.
Brad pulled him close, and Andy slumped into him, almost like he had deflated.
A few minutes later, the coroner headed back in. The man verified what the paramedics had already reported, and a zippered black bag on a gurney wheeled by a pair of men disappeared into a waiting, white panel-van.
"Hey."
Brad jerked and looked up into the brown eyes of the policeman who'd sent them to the ambulance. The fellow smiled in sympathy and addressed Andy. "Sir, we just got him out, and the coroner has taken him."
"I know what that means." Andy seemed to stare through him, and his voice rang with hollowness.
The officer flinched. He focused on Brad. "Does he have someone who can stay with him?"
"Yes. I will."
"Good." He pulled an embossed card from his pocket. "Here. My contact information. We're going to call tomorrow - there are going to be some procedures we need to follow, but they'll wait until tomorrow."
Brad took the card. Officer Mark Kenson. "Oh, will it be you who calls us?"
"Uh, no." Officer Kenson cleared his throat. "It'll be the coroner's office. But if you have any questions, or need help navigating things, call me." He glanced at Andy. "I can help you guys find any resources you might need - I might not have direct access, but I can find out who to ask and where you need to go."
"Thank you." Brad put the card into his pocket. He looked up at the officer. "Can I take him home?"
"Yeah." Officer Kenson stepped back.
Brad rose and peeled off the blanket around them. He clamped an arm firmly around Andy. "Come on, Andy."
"I can't." Andy shook his head. "I can't go home, not without him."
"Okay, bud. We'll go to my place, all right?"
Andy nodded, silent tears sliding down his nose.
Brad led him to his car, and opened the door for Andy. Once he had entered, Brad looked up and locked eyes with Officer Kenson. The man had watched them, and now stood with a sorrowful, pained expression. He straightened when Brad turned to look at him, and nodded once. Then he turned and strode away toward the cluster of police cruisers still on the street.
Sometimes this is how stories start. I see a single scene, and it is crystal clear, but it has no context. That's what happened here. And my brain won't let them go until I write them down. The same thing happened with Broken,
And sometimes, I have to write it all.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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