Page 87 of A Light in the Dark
“Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?”
His bemused tone offered hope he found me to be pleasant enough company. “Because I can. And it’s true. That’s what you’re dealing with. And you are now in my silky web. You can struggle if it would make you happy.”
“There is something to be said for a good struggle. I understand the appeal. I propose we take turns struggling.”
I laughed at his proposal, and as I saw many benefits to the arrangement, I bobbed my head in agreement.
The grind of ill maintained brakes alerted me to trouble up the hill. I turned, hoping the foundations emerged from the potential wreckage. A rusty car, so far gone I assumed the owner had bought it from a junkyard, smacked into Joel’s stairs.
To my astonishment, the stairs won, resulting in the vehicle flipping, smacking down on its hood, and rolling our way.
Our neighbors weren’t so fortunate, and while I gawked at the demolition derby, Joel grabbed my arm, yanked me towards the wall, and peeked around our neighbor’s stairs.
Two SUVs, one silver and black, followed after the rolling vehicle, which smashed into my steps.
By some miracle, they held, and the car ground to a halt.
The likely culprit of my steps’ inexplicit survival whistled before hurrying up the hill, all humor fleeing from his face as he went to see if the driver had survived. “Call the police,” he ordered without as much as a glance back.
I did as told, climbing the hill while holding my phone to my ear.
“Emergency services, what is the nature of your call?” a man’s voice answered.
“There’s been an accident. A car smashed into the steps and foundations of several homes, and it’s flipped several times.” I gave him Joel’s address before explaining that the vehicle had come to a halt at my steps. At the dispatcher’s request, I gave him my address as well. As I drew closer tothe stopped car, I winced at the volume of blood splattered over the vehicle. “I think the driver’s dead.”
“Why do you think that?” the dispatcher asked in a sharp tone.
I leaned over for a better look inside the vehicle, determined the driver’s neck had snapped, resulting in his head being turned at an unnatural angle. “It looks like his neck is broken, his eyes are open, and he’s not moving. There’s blood everywhere, too.”
Joel crouched next to the vehicle, and he shook his head. “He’s dead.”
“My friend thinks he’s dead as well. The car hit the steps quite hard, and then it flipped onto its roof. It’s an older vehicle.”
“How old?”
“It’s so rusted I can’t even tell the make or model,” I admitted. “Especially not now.”
The two SUVs parked, and four men came out to check out the accident site. I’d always liked that about Stonecreek; while there were issues, for the most part, if people saw a problem, they’d help. They would often complain about it, but they’d show up and do what was needed. Two of the men went to Joel, and the other two came my way. They dressed well, wearing suits and likely fresh from a shift of work. I appreciated I’d been able to keep a Monday to Friday schedule, but Stonecreek never slept, not really.
There was always somebody working somewhere, and our long days made it possible for everyone to have lives while the city stayed up all day and night.
The first one to reach me, tall with blue eyes and lighterbrown hair, looked me over. “You all right? We saw the crash, and it looked like you were pretty close.”
I supposed that from the top of the hill, they might have believed we were fairly close to the crash. I pointed where we’d been actually standing. “We were, fortunately, a safe distance. It’s a good thingsomebodyhad shored my steps.”
“Oops,” the somebody up the hill said without a scrap of guilt or remorse in his tone. “Right now, I’m glad I had someone swing by and take care of that. That might have ended a lot differently if your steps hadn’t been shored. Pity about the driver. I guess he lost control at the intersection?”
“It sounded like his brakes had given out.”
“Yeah, I heard that.” Joel rose to his feet, shook his head, and regarded the driver again. I joined him, bending over for a better look at the body.
Nothing could bring back the dead, and all I could do was hope that he’d died shortly after the collision with Joel’s steps, dodging any suffering.
I rose to tell Joel I’d skip down the street to apologize to Elenora about missing out on our baking date. Something cold and hard smashed into the side of my head. My legs gave out beneath me before fiery pain in my skull flared up and consumed me from within.
The sweet andslightly tart flavor of strangleberry washed over my tongue, and the only reason I choked on it involved my semi-conscious state. Coughing and hacking woke me up, and my head pounded to the beating of my heart. Iregistered voices, laced with urgency, but the words escaped me. A hand clapped to my mouth and pressing my chin up prevented me from spitting the berries.
It took me a few more moments to comprehend someone attempted to kill me with my favorite poisonous treat.
