Если я останусь
9:23 A.M.
Thepolicepolitelyofferalternateroutes,backroadsthatwilltakepeoplewheretheyneedtobe.
Theymusthaveplacestogo,thepeopleinthesecars,butalotofthemdon’tturnback.Theyclimboutoftheircars,huggingthemselvesagainstthecold.Theyappraisethescene.Andthentheylookaway,someofthemcrying,onewomanthrowingupintothefernsonthesideoftheroad.Andeventhoughtheydon’tknowwhoweareorwhathashappened,theyprayforus.Icanfeelthempraying.
WhichalsomakesmethinkI’mdead.Thatandthefactmybodyseemstobecompletelynumb,thoughtolookatme,atthelegthatthe60mphasphaltexfolianthaspareddowntothebone,Ishouldbeinagony.AndI’mnotcrying,either,eventhoughIknowthatsomethingunthinkablehasjusthappenedtomyfamily.WearelikeHumptyDumptyandalltheseking’shorsesandalltheseking’smencannotputusbacktogetheragain.
Iamponderingthesethingswhenthemedicwiththefrecklesandredhairwhohasbeenworkingonmeanswersmyquestion."HerGlasgowComaisaneight.Let’sbaghernow!"shescreams.
Sheandthelantern-jawedmedicsnakeatubedownmythroat,attachabagwithabulbtoit,andstartpumping."What’stheETAforLifeFlight?"
"Tenminutes,"answersthemedic."Ittakestwentytogetbacktotown."
"We’regoingtogetherthereinfifteenifyouhavetospeedlikeaf**kingdemon."
Icantellwhattheguyisthinking.Thatitwon’tdomeanygoodiftheygetintoacrash,andIhavetoagree.Buthedoesn’tsayanything.
