A Little Bit of Me

Jottings and Writing, miscellanous misgivings

Chance would be a fine thing

John didn’t consider himself a bad man, but he was desperate and desperation can drive a man to do something he might not ordinarily do.

He came upon the accident suddenly, so suddenly he had to shake his head and briefly close his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. When he opened his eyes, he stopped, opened his door gingerly and was almost overpowered by the stench of diesel. His first thought was of fire, then he saw the bodies in the wreck and that thought vanished. He scrambled down the bank into the paddock, where the sports utility vehicle lay. The large DATSUN on the rear of the vehicle briefly distracted him, then he pulled open the front passengers door. The female in the front passengers seat was obviously dead. Where the left side of her head had been was now a raw goo of red gore and white brain matter. Looking down, John saw that one of her legs came to an abrupt end above the knee. Her torso and the floor of the vehicle were drenched in blood and the small depression that the RV lay in was now a pond of blood, diesel, and water.

The children in what had been the rear of the cab hadn’t fared well, either. The little girl, if you didn’t look below her neck, looked calm and peaceful save for the ghostly white pallor. Her sunglasses were still intact and the white Alice band made her look angelic. John could tell she had been a beautiful child, like his own Megan, but below her neck her small body was completely crushed. Bones protruded from impossible places and she, too, was adding to the ever-increasing pool beneath the vehicle. John could not tell who or what the other thing was in the back of the cab. It must have been beside the open window and the force of the crash and the opened window had decapitated the body. Looking hard it was difficult to see where the body ended and where the outline of the cab started.

John turned his attention back to the front of the vehicle. The driver’s chest was crushed by the steering wheel, despite the air bag, which had exploded on impact. Both legs had been forced up into the body. The driver was moving and when John placed his fingers over the carotid artery he felt a faint and erratic pulse. There was a harsh, spluttering, breath but blood bubbles dribbled down the drivers chin. The driver was bleeding profusely and when John looked down he saw that his own trousers and shirt were sticky with blood where he had crawled through the cabin.

It was then that John saw the ticket.  Amidst the rubbish strewn about the space that had been witness to so much carnage was a Lotto ticket. Without thinking John bent down, scooped it up and thrust it deep inside the pocket of his jeans. There was a cellphone lying on the floor and John retrieved it and staggered out into the paddock, away from the war zone. He punched in 999, then remembered the instructions for his own cellphone, deleted the entry and repunched 111 SND. He calmly told the remote voice on the end of the line where he was and that he wanted.

He tossed and turned in his bed but could not get comfortable. He scanned his body and realised that his fingers and toes were tightly curled. He tried to relax them and his mind returned to the grisly discovery. He saw himself bending down and stuffing the ticket into his pocket. He smelt the diesel and blood and excrement. He hadn’t been aware of that while he was exploring the wreck. He saw the driver’s eyes as they rolled back in his head. He remembered the thoughts that raced through his head. He tried to relax but sleep would not come.impractical

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